For fox sake

But even that was starting to slip away. The gap between his late night visits was increasing. Two times a week had turned into one. Once a week turned to maybe once a fortnight. He was getting busier with his new girlfriend. Or maybe he was losing interest in you. You didn’t know which was worse. 

You hated to admit it but that thought scared you. The one thing in this fucked up town that made you feel just a little bit in control was slipping away. Because Roy Tillman had deemed you as tainted, unfit to be wed because you dared to have ‘relations outside of marriage’. Whatever. It’s not like you cared about what Roy Tillman had to say about your sex life. Not when Gator Tillman used to beg to fuck you almost every chance he got. 

The days were hotter as summer arrived; the nights even more so. Your body feeling empty, no sharp knocks only your front door. You hated missing the nuisance that Gator was, making his way through your apartment like he owned it. Owned you.

It’s not like you needed him. This town had a specialty for men who’d fuck you in a heartbeat at night, then deem you as a slut the morning after, ruined for a husband. The hypocrisy was almost laughable, but you’d long outgrown the need to listen to what people in this town had to say about you. 

But anything that got your mind off of Gator fucking Tillman for an hour or two was worth it at this point.

Somewhere between a long, exhausting shift where you forced on fake smiles for poor tips, happily wiped away messes from patrons who were too drunk to even walk straight, he’d caught your eye.

His name was Theo maybe, or Leo, you didn’t really care. A familiar face at your bar, usually with his friends. Shyer than most of those loud, sleazy fucks who all eyed you as you worked. But he was cute enough. A friendly smile on his face. You gave him a once over - with his greasy blond hair and dorky glasses - and offered him a smile. A real one. Accidentally brushed your arm when you served him a drink. 

You weren’t inexperienced, far from it. But your lack of action in the dating pool between Gator’s usual presence keeping you busy and now, his extended absence, had you slightly off balance. Slightly out of touch. If it sucked, at least you got some practice out of it. 

“Just you tonight?” you asked, leaning over to grab his empty drink to refill. “Where are your buddies?” You didn’t really care much for the answer. His friends were gross, loud, messy. And more importantly, if he was alone, it was easier to get his attention. And that’s what you needed right now. 

“Ah, nope, just me,” he replied, after the initial surprise wore off that you were actually making conversation with him. “Got off work late, needed a drink… you know how it is.”

Sure. You could definitely work with that.

“I could keep you company,” you said, tilting your head, blinking down at him. “I mean… after I get off tonight. Or any other night.” 

A week later, you were sitting in the booth across from - Theo, you’d now learned - listening to him talk your ear off about … okay. Maybe you weren’t the best listener right now. But you were nodding at the right times, sipping your drink generously as you twirled your hair with one finger. Anything to show him you were interested. 

Two drinks in, Theo was still talking. Seemingly not picking up on your signals that you wanted to do anything but talk right now. You weren’t sure how many more hints you could drop about heading back to his place or yours.

With a soft sigh, you stood up, still forcing that smile on your face. It was your second date and, sure, you’d hooked up last time, and that wasn’t bad. But now he wanted to talk, get to know you more.

“I’ll be right back,” you said, “just getting a refill.”

And you very much needed it if the next hour was going to be filled with more talking instead of fucking. With a little wave to the bartender - one of your coworkers who already knew your favorite - you leaned against the counter, trying not to contemplate every life decision that had led you here. 

If you hadn’t let Gator get the best of you every time, maybe you wouldn’t be in this position. It happened one too many times - going out with a guy once or twice before you got bored, not giving them a chance to get to know you better. Because nothing fueled that fire in you like he did. And here you were again, on a second date with a guy you weren’t even that interested in just because you felt empty, because you needed to prove to yourself that you were still wanted. 

Then you heard his voice. 

“Oh, look who it is,” his voice was low behind you, sarcastic and mocking. “Aren’t you off tonight?”

A beat passed before you turned to glance at Gator over your shoulder, schooling your expression. He was in uniform, camo pants and deputy vest, that stupid black, tight muscle tee as always. 

“You keeping track of my shift schedules, deputy?” you asked dryly. 

“What? No,” he replied quickly, scoffing as he glanced to the side. Then he glanced back at you, giving you a once over, noticing the fresh drink now in your hand. “Got a call about disorderly conduct. Some desperate slut making a scene.”

You scoffed loudly at that. “You’re so full of shit.” 

“And you’re a whore, dressed like that.” he reached out, tugging at the thin strap of your dress, smirking when it snapped against your skin. 

You pulled back, glancing over his shoulder at Theo who was still sitting in the booth, checking his phone. Thankfully, he hadn’t noticed Gator talking to you yet. 

But looking at him was a mistake, because Gator immediately followed your gaze. 

“Who the fuck is that?” 

You folded your arms, pursing your lips. “None of your goddamn business.” 

“If he’s fucking you, then it is my goddamn business.” 

His nerve to seem self righteous, as if he had some kind of right over you, made you angry. 

“Yeah? What’re you gonna do about it?”

A tense moment passed between you. The chatter from around you seemed to fade, both of you in a silent standoff as you stared at each other. Waiting. 

And then he snatched your drink, setting it down on the counter before he grabbed your arm, dragging you out of the bar. “You’re under arrest.” 

“What?” you said, dumbfounded, trying to pull away. But he didn’t even budge, just yanked you harder outside of the bar. “You can’t-”

“Shut your fuckin’ mouth,” he pinned your hands behind your back. The metal of the cuffs were cool against your wrists as he clicked them on, before tugging you forward to his patrol car. “Disorderly conduct, contempt, obstruction of justice. You’re sure gettin’ yourself some hefty charges tonight.”

“On what fucking grounds, you pig?” you snapped. “You can’t just-”

“Think you’re forgettin’ who runs this town,” he murmured in your ear before he shoved you into the backseat. “I can do whatever the fuck I want, sweet thing.” 

“Right,” you glanced at him. “Except when your daddy tells you not to.”

His eyes flashed at your words, and you knew what that meant. If you hadn’t completely pissed him off earlier, you surely had now. Maybe enough for him to actually drive you down to the station and book you in just to remind you that he had the authority to do whatever the hell he wanted. 

But you were past caring. Not when he’d interrupted your date and dragged you out of the bar in front of everyone. 

“How’s it going, anyway?” you asked once he sat in the driver’s seat, starting up the engine. “That girl of yours. Sweet little Virgin Mary herself.” 

“Shut up. She’s none of your business.” 

You could never tell if his hypocrisy was deliberate or he was just that stupid. 

“Oh, you’re getting defensive.” you mocked, scooting closer to the edge of the seat as he sped down the road. “Is she not doing it for you? Guess you can’t exactly get it up if they’re too easy.”

“You’re such a fuckin’ bitch.” he muttered, taking a hit of his vape. The fruity scent filled the car, making your nose scrunch with disgust. 

“Why were you hangin’ ‘round that bar anyway? You said it’s a shithole.”

“It is a shithole,” he grunted in response. “No wonder they hired ya.” 

“So why the hell were you there?” you pressed on. “The good girl daddy picked out still boring you?”

You could see the clench of his jaw, the way his fingers flexed on the steering wheel. “Why the fuck were you? That poor fella doesn’t know you’re an easy little bitch.”

“You just can’t fucking admit it, huh? You listened to your daddy and broke up with me. And yet you’re still here.”

“Does he even make you cum?” Gator scoffed. He wasn’t even listening to you now, more caught up in whether Theo was even good, whether he could satisfy you. Like that was any of his fucking business.

You felt your irritation rising, glancing out the window to watch the lights blur past. 

“Yeah, he did.”

A total blatant lie. It slipped out before you could even think; you were just so pissed off. That even though you were trying to do the right thing and move on from Gator, you were still here. Cuffed in the back of his car like he didn’t have a girlfriend; as if he wasn’t the one who broke things off in the first place. 

“You’re such a fuckin’ liar.” 

“Oh yeah? ‘Cause he’s bigger than you.” you snapped. “And fucks me better.”

Your face slammed into the seat in front of you as Gator pulled over to the side of the road, car screeching to a halt. 

He yanked open the door, shoving you onto your stomach across the leather seats, making you yelp softly. 

“Here’s what’s gonna happen,” he murmured, voice low. He loomed over you in the cramped space of the car, hiking your dress up. The very one you’d worn in hopes of getting Theo’s attention, which was now getting crumpled as Gator bunched it up around your waist to slap your ass. “You’re gonna shut up while I fuck you, and maybe I’ll let your pretty ass off with a warning.” 

Your knees dug into the leather seats uncomfortably. Your hands were still cuffed behind your back, wrists chafing slightly against the metal, your face awkwardly pressed down against the seat. 

“That’s real generous. Considering I haven’t done anything wrong.” you snapped. “Uncuff me.”

Gator scoffed loudly, one hand tugging at your cuffed wrists just to fuck with you. “Haven’t done anything wrong? You’re going ‘round town like a fuckin’ tramp.” 

“And that’s none of your-”

An involuntary, pathetic little squeak left your throat as his palm cracked down on your ass again, leaving your skin burning. 

“He fucks you better, huh?” he muttered, fingers sliding against your clothed cunt, pressing his thumb down on your clit through the thin fabric. “Really, darlin’? ‘Cause it feels like you’re real wet for me right now.”

Your cheeks were burning, shifting your hips, but he wasn’t giving you an inch. Gator’s rough hands gripped your sides, keeping you in place as he stared down at the state of your wet panties. 

“That’s-”

“So what were you gonna do tonight, huh?” he continued, sliding your panties to one side before he pushed two thick fingers inside your slick pussy. “Let that loser touch you like this? Or does he just stick his dick in like a fuckin’ dumbass?”

All you could do was moan in response, the way his fingers curled, making your head spin. 

And despite that, a breathy laugh let your lips, because finally, you had Gator right where you wanted. Fueled with ugly jealousy, fingers pressing into your sweet spot like he needed to prove something to you. 

“You sure you wanna know?” you asked. 

He didn’t respond, but his silence was enough of an answer. You glanced back at him over your shoulder, already starting to drool as his fingers stretched out your needy hole, pulsing around his fingers. You needed more. 

But he wasn’t giving you more. He stared down at you, hazel eyes dark as he studied your expression like he needed the approval that he was making you feel good. 

“You’re such a slut,” he muttered, voice low and raspy, fucking his fingers in deeper. 

The crackle of the radio chatter didn’t even deter him. Was he still on duty? 

You didn’t get the chance to ask him, because suddenly his fingers pulled out of you, leaving you empty. Then he was leaning down, licking a broad stripe from your clit all the way up. And all of a sudden you didn’t really care if he was still on patrol.

“Gator,” you said, because that’s the only thing your useless mouth could say as he sucked on your clit.

“Bet he doesn’t do this for you,” he was mumbling against your dripping cunt before his teeth grazed against your clit. A jolt of pain tangled with pleasure ripped through your body at the sensation. “Bet he didn’t even make you come, huh?”

“I…” you trailed off, a little too far gone to fully process his question. 

“It’s a simple fuckin’ question, darlin’,” he said, thumbs spreading your cheeks wider before he spit on your clit. The corners of his mouth twitched upwards at the sight of his spit dripping down your glistening folds before he dove back in, nose nudging your cunt as his tongue swirled around your throbbing clit. 

“Fuck you.” you managed to say between pants, but it came out breathy and soft. Almost like a plea.

“So much attitude, baby.” he smacked your ass again. “If you answer, I’ll take ‘em cuffs off you and fuck you proper.”

That made you pause. “No,” you finally admitted. “I was lying.”

You didn’t have to look at him to know he was smirking. “Good girl.”

When his mouth pulled away from your clit, you whimpered pathetically. Your clit throbbed, aching for more pleasure, more of his touch. 

The cuffs clicked off you finally, and you shifted to turn over, but Gator’s hands moved back to your hips. 

“Didn’t say you could fuckin’ move.”

You gritted your teeth, holding back another insult because his fingers finally slid back into your slick pussy. The wet sounds filled the cramped space of the car, fingers curling again. Pushing in and out repeatedly until you were moaning like the pathetic mess you always ended up being under his touch. 

“Fuck, Gator,” the words spilled out of your mouth with a rough groan as he leaned down to suck on your clit. “That’s- fuck.”

“Yeah,” he groaned. “Fuckin’ come, baby, show me I’m better than him.”

Your thighs trembled, your orgasm hitting you fast, a strangled moan ripping out of your throat. White hot pleasure overtook your senses, but Gator didn’t stop; still thrusting his fingers as your walls squeezed around them tightly. 

“I’m always gonna be the best you’ve ever fuckin’ had,” he said as he finally pulled out of your dripping cunt. “You should know that.”

You did know that. You lived it. Every time you were with a guy that wasn’t him. But you couldn’t speak, still trying to catch your breath as he finally turned you onto your back. 

His eyes met yours, a smirk curling at his lips as he grabbed a fistful of your hair. “Say it. Say I’m the best you’ve ever had.” 

You tilted your head back, hips lifting off the seat as he pressed his hips down, dick bulging in his pants. The rough fabric pressed against your oversensitive clit and you were whimpering again. 

“What about you, huh?” you replied. “You wouldn’t be here if she was satisfying you.”

Gator tilted his head, hands clumsily tugging down his pants to free his cock, glistening under the low light. “Fuck that,” he muttered. “This ain’t about me. It’s about you bein’ a slut.” 

“You’re the one with a girlfriend.”

“Yeah, you think I fuckin’ want that?” he raised his voice. “That I want her?”

You huffed softly. “I think you still want me and just can’t admit it.”

His thumb slid inside your mouth, pressing down on your tongue. “Shut up.” He shut his eyes as you sucked on it, cock twitching against your thigh. “You’re so full of yourself.”

The silence stretched in the car as you stared up at him, drooling around his thumb. Then he shook his head, pressing his hips forward, rocking against you. 

“Say it,” you murmured, squeezing your eyes shut as his tip nudged between your aching folds, pressing against your clit once before he slid inside. “Admit it. That’s why you were at the bar tonight. Why you arrested me.”

“I said, shut up,” he said, louder, as he slammed into you, knocking the air right out of your lungs. “Fuck.” 

You couldn’t speak or think or even breathe, the car rocking violently as he snapped his hips forward, fucking into your pussy. Each rough thrust had you moaning louder, the curve of his cock pushing in and out of you. 

His hands were rough, fingers digging into your skin as he gripped your hips to keep you in place. Not like you had much room in the tiny backseat. Gator was panting, fucking moaning as he leaned down, lips finding yours. 

Then he bit down hard, eyes hazy as he stared down at you, and you moaned, tilting your head back. “This enough to show you what I want, huh?” he asked breathlessly, making that smug tone come out more like a need for approval. “This fuckin’ pussy. Every day if I could. Shit, yeah. Every day.” 

“Then do it,” you whispered, chasing his lips as he pushed one knee up so he could fuck into you deeper. “Everyday. All the time. I want you.”

Gator groaned into your mouth, tongue sliding against yours as he gripped your hair. Your words were only spurring him on, making him go faster. The car creaked and groaned with every thrust he was giving you.

“Bet you’d like that, little whore,” he was saying now, hands groping your tits through your tank top. “Think you can take this everyday? My cock fillin’ you up every mornin’? Every night?”

You couldn’t speak anymore, not with the way his hand slid down to circle your puffy clit while the other pinched your nipple. All while his cock stuffing you up, balls slapping against your skin like you were all he needed. 

“Fuck, Gator, ‘m…” 

“Yeah,” he groaned, thumb circling your clit faster as his tip nudged that sweet spot, making your walls squeeze tightly around his dick. Gator practically whined at the sensation, rutting into the same spot, his thick cock angling just right each time against your g-spot. “Yeah, I know, baby.”

You bit your lip so hard you could taste blood, muffling your whine as your second climax hit you even harder than the first. Your skin felt like it was on fire, the pleasure swirling in your stomach and your head dizzy. 

Gator’s hips stuttered, thrusts growing clumsy before he was spilling into you, too lost in his pleasure to think about pulling out. Thick, hot spurts of cum filling up your still fluttering cunt, making your toes curl. 

The car finally came to a halt, cock still buried deep inside you before he collapsed over your body. Your breaths mingled in the hot, heavy air. 

His hand brushed your hair back, blinking down at you with heavy lids. “Get up,” he mumbled, voice softer than it’d been all night. “I’ll drive you home.”

What he meant didn’t have to be said out loud. Not when you knew how his father was. 

Have I known you twenty seconds or twenty years?

“I think Jessica is coming over,” Steve said as he handed you a can of soda, the cold condensation on it making your fingers slip over his. 

You screwed your face up and rolled your eyes behind your sunglasses - Steve’s sunglasses - ‘cause it was a rare Saturday that you’d managed to get off work together, seventeen and desperate for time to do nothing with your best friend. 

It wasn’t meant, but you let the sound of annoyance slip from your lips, stretching yourself out on one of the Harrington’s sunloungers. Steve looked at you from where he’d sat himself down by the pool edge, exasperated and somewhat fond. You picked at the edge of your bikini bottoms, peachy orange and still damp from the water. 

You scrunched your nose, looking over at him from over the top of his old Ray Bans as he took a sip of his cola, eyes on you, waiting for you to talk. He knew you wanted to say something, could tell from your face, the way you twisted your lips and fidgeted with your swimsuit. 

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” 

If you didn’t know the boy well enough, you’d have thought his tone was condescending, maybe even a little mocking. But when you were both fifteen, he’d stood by your side at the counter of the ice cream parlour, watching your cheeks flush a pretty shade of pink when the older guy behind the freezer had winked at you, handed you your cone and called you ‘sweetheart’.  

Steve had called you the same ever since, never getting tired of the way you lit up at it, all soft and full of affection, lips twisted to hide your smile, nose turning pink. 

“I thought it was just gonna be us hanging out today?” You asked, trying to keep your voice level, casual. 

It was silly the way your chest was hurting, an anxious creep across your bones, making your skin too warm in a way that the sun wasn’t. It wasn’t necessarily because you didn’t like Jessica, you didn’t really know, honestly. 

But you’d been in Steve’s life long enough to know that not many of his girlfriends had liked you. It made hang outs and movie nights awkward, a fresh set of eyes on you, watching the way you and Steve interacted, holding back from the way you’d normally touch him, keeping your head off his shoulder, throwing your legs over the arm of the chair instead of his lap. 

You’d go to the kitchen, the bathroom, bringing back more snacks and a drink only to hear the boy being interrogated about how long had Steve known you, didn’t she have a boyfriend and god, why was she always here?

You’d stand with your back against the hallway wall, a packet of twizzlers crushed to your chest as you listened for Steve’s response. It was always the same, sure and strong and leaving no room for argument. It made you feel warm and a little safer, like you belonged in the Harrington house just as much as him, brought up in the large home with its pool and absent parents together, barbecues in the summer, Christmas in the dining room, mom and dads by your sides. 

“She’s my best friend,” he’d always say, “where she goes, I go.”

Some girls put up with it for longer than others, dirty looks given to you out of the car window when Steve would insist on dropping you home too, a messy press of a kiss pushed to your cheek before he made sure you got in your front door okay. 

There were girls that were done after bumping into you in the school hall, a sweater on your frame, the hem almost covering your shorts and god, they’d think, that looks awfully familiar. They’d sit in whatever class they had next, eyes on the chalkboard but their minds trying to decide if they’d seen that sweater on Steve’s bedroom floor before, thrown lazily over the back of his desk chair. 

You’d find them arguing about it at his car after school, voices clipped and raised, drawing a little too much attention and you’d hear your name said like a curse. Steve would let them walk away, hands rubbing at his eyes and when he’d pull himself onto the trunk, he’d find your gaze across the parking lot and he’d smile, a little soft and a little sad. 

But he’d look at you from the driver seat when he was taking you both home, eyes flickering with something else as they dare to roam across your shoulders, your chest. You’d catch him staring, brows raised and your knowing smile would make him blush but he’d tell you, everytime:

“Looks better on you anyway.”

Steve shrugged, looking a little guilty but swung a leg into the pool, letting the water swish around his shin. 

“I know, but,” another shrug, his gaze on the blue tiles, “she’s my girlfriend.”

You sighed, pushing yourself off of the lounger and walking over to the edge of the pool, chlorine and cedar from the garden filling the warm air. You poked a toe to the boy’s side before sitting down next to him, both feet in the water and the garden slabs sun-warmed against the back of your thighs. 

You nudged a shoulder into Steve’s, fighting a smile when he did it back, shuffling closer so your arms brushed together. 

“We haven’t hung out just the two of us in ages,” you told him, trying to sound annoyed but your words came out a little mournful, huffy even. “It’s been weeks.”

You knew it wasn’t Steve’s fault. Between school and both of you working weekend jobs, it was hard to find time to see each other. And since the startling realisation of finding out there were kids with superpowers out in Hawkins, other worlds that held monsters and magic, you figured trips to the cinema were at the bottom of both of your lists. 

“M’sorry,” Steve said anyway, and you hated the way he sounded, like he really meant it, like it made him sad too. “If the kids didn’t need rides to the arcade all the damn time, maybe we’d-”

You rolled your eyes, fond. “You know it’s not the kids I mind, Harrington.”

And that was true. You and Steve had taken your unofficial babysitter roles pretty seriously, and with six twelve year olds to wrangle together, it would’ve been a hard enough job without the threat of impending doom lurking behind every corner. 

You’d grown up thinking monsters only lived under your bed, hiding behind your closet door, and they could be banished with a flashlight, a kiss from your mother, the promise of chocolate chip pancakes in the morning from your father. 

But you’d grown up too fast, seeing things that weren’t supposed to be real and you hated the way you knew how to butterfly stitch someone's skin back together, how you’d seen too much of your best friend's blood. 

He pressed his nose to your shoulder, warm skin on warm skin and he let his teeth graze you, a playful threat of a bite before he sighed, knowingly, understanding. 

“Jess said she likes you,” Steve offered, hands on the grass as he leaned back, head tilted to the sun. He was watching you from under his lashes, the length of them casting shadows over his cheekbones. “Said you had chem together and you were crazy smart.”

You scoffed, laughed mirthless, because the only reason Jessica Preston knew you had class with her was ‘cause she used you to cheat off of you before you moved seats.  

“I bet she did,” was the only answer you gave, because the garden gate was suddenly squeaking and Steve was standing up, splashing water over your thighs as he greeted the girl in question. 

“Jess, hey!” Steve called out, reaching for her and pressing a kiss to her lips. His came away glossy and a little pink as Jessica reached into her bag, pulling out a tube and quickly reapplying. He gestured to you, smiling, “you two know each other, right?”

You grimaced, holding your hand up in some sort of wave before you pushed Steve’s glasses onto your head. 

“Sure,” you said, not sounding sure at all. You stood up, brushing drops of water and small flecks of gravel from your skin. “Chemistry, Mrs Telford’s class.”

Jessica squinted at you, pretty features twisted in confusion and Steve wanted to jump head first into the pool from the awkward silence that had filled the yard. 

“Right!” The girl finally gasped out, all false smiles and white teeth. “Totally! Of course.”

And then, you were dismissed.  

“Steve, there’s a party tonight,” you heard the girl tell him, stomach twisting as you walked past them, grabbing your shorts from the lounger and dragging them up your legs. “Matt’s parents are gone and,” she tapped a finger on his chest, trailing it down his sternum. “So are mine.”

You wondered if you had too much sun, wondered if the heat was what was making your insides bubble, your chest feeling too tight. You found your way into the kitchen, the open patio door doing nothing to curb the same heat that had leaked in from outside. 

You ran the tap, waiting for it to turn freezing before filling a glass and chugging it, back pressed against the counter so you didn’t have to look out the window. 

You could still hear them though. 

“You can pick me up, right? I’ll be ready at eight and then you can stay over at mine,” Jess was practically purring and it made you slam the now empty glass down into the sink a little harder than you meant to. “We’ll have the place all to ourselves.”

“Uh, actually, we’re having a movie night later,” you froze, turning to look over your shoulder to see Steve gesture to you through the window. Jess followed his hand, lips downturned and eyes holding venom. 

“You’re kidding right?” The girl asked, disbelief spilling from her lips. “I’m offering you a night in my bed and you’re turning me down for Back To The Future with her?”

It was actually The Goonies, you’d wanted to tell her, but Steve was licking his lips nervously, eyes flickering between you and Jess and you really wish you could say something to save him. 

You stepped out the patio doors, arms crossed self consciously over your chest. “Steve, it’s okay, we-”

Steve shrugged and he didn’t look surprised when Jessica stepped out of his embrace, glossy lips twisted in shock and annoyance. 

“We’ve had it planned for a while Jess,” he explained, “movies, pizza and-”

“Well come after,” Jess demanded, like it was simple. “Or better yet, just do your stupid movie night some other time.”

Steve looked confused, staring down at the girl as if he was wondering which part she wasn’t understanding. You grimaced, eyes wanting to fall shut ‘cause you knew what the boy was going to say and god, you wished you could hide from it. 

But then he was explaining to her that you were staying over, crashing at his like you always did, like you had done for years. 

Steve said it so plainly that you almost wanted to laugh. In fact, your lip twitched, the threat of a smile pulling at it and you turned, toeing at the grass as you waited for the impending blow out. The boy had an endearing habit of stating the truth with such a sincerely soft tone, almost oblivious to the carnage his honesty could sometimes cause. 

“I’m sorry,” Jessica stated, voice climbing a little higher in volume and pitch as she took in this new information. “I could’ve sworn you just told me you had another girl staying with you tonight.”

Steve scrunched his nose, mouth parting as he wondered what he was supposed to say to that. He floundered, hands gesturing wildly as he tried to gain some control on the matter. 

“Jess, what? It’s not a big deal, it’s not like that.”

And he was right, it wasn’t. Not yet. 

Nothing had ever happened with you and Steve, not when you were pressed together at night, side by side in his bed, moving closer as you slept, pillow creases on your cheeks, hands close to places you shouldn’t have been touching. 

Nothing happened in the mornings either, when you were both soft with sleep, hair mussed and misbehaving, warm hands and toes pushing into the other's skin as you tried to find the comfort of that lazy feeling in each other. 

You’d never noticed him stare at you when you got out of the shower, skin still damp, hair pushed back from your face and a too big shirt clinging to your thighs. He never realised you held your breath when he pulled his top off at night, body warm and solid beside you, fingers desperate to trace a map of constellations across his back, freckle to freckle. 

Your realisation that your best friend wasn’t just attractive, but was pretty, was a slow burn. It came as you aged, an appreciation growing as you did, Steve too. You noticed the boys in your class as they grew taller, filling out, and you didn’t realise the same was happening to Steve until the summer you both turned fifteen. 

You’d spent school vacation at his parents lake house, watched him laze shirtless on the small motorboat, new muscles flexing, drops of water casting tiny rainbows across the tanned skin it clung to. He’d grown his hair out, chocolate brown strands out of control and messy, boyish as it was pretty. You didn’t know what to do with this new information, new feelings, and when Steve continued to throw you over his shoulder, playing in the shallows of the lake, his wide hands spanning the curves of your thighs, your hips, you ignored the burn his touch left behind. 

Jess huffed out a laugh and it sounded dangerous, a little like a threat. She found your gaze, held it until hers dropped to scan you up and down, doing her best to make you feel small. 

“Whatever, Harrington,” she shoved past Steve, shoulder edging into his chest as she headed for the gate. “Ask your little friend to suck your dick instead.”

You burned at her words, eyes wide as you stared at a crack in the patio, refusing to watch as she stormed through the gate, the hinges protesting loudly as it was slammed shut, leaving you both in silence. 

The trickle of the pool filter was the only sound for a minute, maybe two, then you heard Steve sigh, heavy and world weary. You looked at him, feeling a little guilty. 

“Shouldn’t you go after her?” You asked. 

Steve gave a half shrug, already moving to sit down on the lounger that you’d spent your morning on. You joined him, sitting on the end so you didn’t touch, like you weren’t supposed to after Jessica’s accusation. 

“Nah,” he told you, “it’s fine, it’s… whatever.”

You snorted and the sound made the corners of his mouth lift a little, eyes flitting over to you, always interested in what you were going to say. 

“That’s a new height of romance, Harrington,” you mused, foot dipping into a small puddle of pool water. You drew lines and shapes on the dry concrete with your toe, watching the sun dry them out almost instantly. “It’s whatever?”

“I dunno,” Steve sighed, reaching over to pluck his sunglasses back from the top of your head and pushing them over the bridge of his nose. He looked good with them on, you mused, too pretty, too nice. “Wasn’t like we had that much in common.“

“Then why date her in the first place?” You asked, face twisting with annoyance.

Steve had developed a habit in freshman year of dating girls who gave him nothing more than wandering hands in the back of his car, passive aggressive comments when he missed their calls and whiplash when they found out about you. 

A smirk tugged at his lips, a handsome match with his Ray Bans and messy hair and he turned to you, eyebrows raised. 

“You’re a pig,” you muttered, trying to sound disgusted but Steve was pushing his fingers into your sides, hands dragging over your ribs and you were laughing despite yourself, “get off me!”

You were ignored, unsurprisingly, and you wondered if Jessica had made it back to her car yet, if she’d driven away or if she had heard your shriek of delight when Steve suddenly stood and scooped you up. 

One arm was wrapped around your waist, a wide, rough hand pressed against the skin just under your breast, his thumb grazing the of your bikini. The other curved itself on your thigh, your body held tight to his as he ran with you, hurtling you both to the edge of the pool and you pressed your face into his neck when he jumped, bracing yourself for the cool water. 

Steve didn’t let you go until you both surfaced, his feet planted on the bottom of the pool as he pushed you both to the surface. Your hands were around his neck and you gasped, water dripping from your lashes and lips, hair a wet mess and he was laughing. That soft laugh that made any summer day feel warmer than it already was, a laugh that reminded you of fresh lemonade and bedroom sheet forts. 

He let go of your legs before you waist, letting the lower half of your body slide out of his grasp and slide against his, so you were chest to chest, your abdomens pressed together and you almost lost your footing, chin slipping under the water, eyes gazing up at him despite the way the sun made it hurt. 

Maybe it was the way you pressed a hand to his stomach to ground yourself,  feeling the muscles tense under your touch, maybe it was the way you were looking at him, maybe he just forgot he wasn’t supposed to look at you like that. But something happened and Steve cleared his throat, letting go of your waist and allowing himself to fall backwards and under the water. 

He reappeared a few feet away, hair darker and slicked back, eyes a little wild as he looked at you, like you were suddenly dangerous. 

And I'm highly suspicious that everyone who sees you wants you. 

You weren’t overly fond of Nancy Wheeler, not at first. 

You couldn’t deny that the dislike you felt for the girl stemmed from jealousy and your own inability to get a handle on your feelings but, you had to admit, she was better than most of the girls Steve had dated before. 

Pretty, smart, sharp and with a keen eye. She liked journalism, the quiet and even you. You shared the knowledge of The Upside Down, bonded over the fear you both felt for her brother and his friends and when you passed each other in the hallway, you nodded, civil and overly aware of all the things you’d both seen together. 

You weren’t joined at the hip and you didn’t love how she slid her hand into Steve’s, or how he kissed her at her locker, telling you he’d catch up with you at lunch. You’d spent months telling yourself you weren’t jealous of Nancy, just that you missed your best friend and you resented the way the girl took up all his free time. 

You missed the way he snuck in your bedroom window, a pointless task and waste of his energy, ‘cause your parents would hear him clambering up their drainpipe, eyes rolling, fond and affectionate, ‘cause it was Steve. 

He’d always told you that he did it for the fun of it, to see you smile when his head appeared over the sill and so you’d help him clamber over the window frame. He’d spend the late hours with you, whispering about nothing and laughing about everything, shoulder to shoulder in your bed until you both fell asleep, sprawled on top of the sheets, his shoes in the middle of your floor and his arm slung over your waist. 

You liked it when the sun woke you early, the curtain still opened from when you’d forgotten to close them after Steve’s sudden appearances, the light pink and peach as it leaked into your room. It painted stripes of light and shadow over your walls, over the boy’s broad shoulders and cheek, the other smushed into your mattress, hair a mess and lips parted sleepily. 

You got to admire him like that, when his eyes were still closed and he was so unaware. Steve couldn’t catch you staring, wondering if his lips were actually as soft as they looked, if he knew how pretty you thought he was, if he thought you were pretty too. 

He still picked you up for school in the morning, his BMW sat at the end of your drive but his clothes were sleep creased, hair mussed from spending the night with Nancy instead, sneaking through her bedroom window and not yours. He still smacked a kiss to your cheek when you parted for class but it wasn’t the same, he wasn’t quite just yours anymore and you hated the way it hurt. 

So yeah, you could appreciate that Nancy was a nice person and seemed to be good for Steve - at least, until she wasn’t - but you didn’t have to like her for it. 

When she broke your best friend’s heart, you’d found him sitting on the hood of his car after school, lips downturned and expression sour, nothing but worry beating in your chest ‘cause you hadn’t seen him since the morning before and no one answered your calls to his house that night. 

But then rumours started swirling around the halls, floating over tables in the cafeteria like wildfire and you couldn’t fucking find him. You saw Nancy in the library during your free period, her head bent close to Jonathan Byers as they whispered about something you couldn’t hear, their hands on the table, fingers too close to touching and Nancy had the right to look guilty when her gaze met your own. 

So you’d marched straight over to Steve and he crumbled a little when he saw it was you, slipping off the hood and letting you usher him to the front seat. He didn’t really hesitate when you held out your hand to him, silently asking him to let you take care of him. 

He placed the car keys in your palm, eyes tired, face sad and you were desperate to fix it. You hadn’t seen Steve like that before and you didn’t know what to do, his pain was yours, your heart beating hard against your chest until you felt like your bones were bruised. 

There were talks of the girl cheating on him, wandering around late with Jonathan and you knew they shared the same worries and trauma that you all did when it came to knowing things the rest of the town didn’t, but you didn’t know what was happening between the pair. 

So you drove him home, listened when Steve told you that he loved her, that he didn’t know how to fix it. But then it was and then it wasn’t, a game of on and off, yes and no, that you couldn’t really keep up with. 

It all came to a head on Halloween, after months of leaving your window open for no one. 

Steve climbed in, startling you, hands finding your bedroom floor before his feet did and when he stood, eyes meeting yours, you wanted to be mad at him. 

It had been a week since you hung out, passing in the halls and waving when you could, exams stressing you out and his time taken up by Nancy and all the parties he seemed intent on going to. He’d given up trying to get you to go with him, sick of it all after the second time, a spare part, third wheel, an audience to his kisses with Nancy. 

But he stood by your bed with the most forlorn expression on his face, features soft and watery and you simply pulled back the sheets, shuffling over to the side that had been made yours when you were both seven, so Steve could claim his. 

The boy toed off his shoes, his jacket falling to the carpet as he shrugged it off and you felt like a kid again when he crawled across your mattress, shuffling underneath the covers and pushing himself against you. 

Steve got as close to you as he could without asking for a hug, his pride already seemingly too hurt to put himself out there, even with you. But he didn’t hesitate when you turned into him, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into you, your nose pressed into his hair. He smelled like smoke and weed from the party, a little like Steve underneath it. 

He returned your touch instantly, seeking it out with a desperation that almost shocked you, eager to accept it when it was offered. He tugged you in by the waist, arms wrapped around you and his face pressed into the crook of your neck. 

He wished he told you then, that you smelled like summer and afternoons by the pool, like cherry popsicles and promises and home. But he didn’t feel brave enough, not then, not yet. 

“We broke up,” Steve finally mumbled, voice a little broken and muffled by your neck and hair. “She broke up w’me. Called us bullshit.”

You frowned, confused, pulling back a little in the hopes that Steve would look at you and explain but his grip on your waist only tightened and you patted at his hair, smoothed the almost curls at the nape of his neck and whispered his name. 

“Steve, hey, babe, what?” You received a groan in answer but you persisted, shuffling out of his grasp and gripping his chin with your finger, pushing at him a little pleadingly until the boy looked up and met your gaze. 

“What happened?”

Steve didn’t answer until you pulled the sheets over your heads, your own little bed fort that let the dim light of your bedside lamp filter through, soft and warm and hazy. You let go of his chin, your hand smoothing his hair back from his face and he pushed his cheek into your touch as he spoke. 

“Nancy, it’s over,” he told you, a frown pulling at his brow, “she said the whole relationship was bullshit, that I was bullshit.”

You held your breath, letting him talk as you smoothed a thumb over his cheekbone, feeling him relax into you despite the way he was letting his words tumble from his lips, mixing in with his emotions until he was stuttering over himself. 

“She, she said we were just acting like we were in love?” Steve caught your stare, his eyes confused as he looked at you, as if he could find an answer in your gaze but you just gaped at him. “Said that I only thought I was in love with her ‘cause I was too busy tryin’ to pretend I wasn’t in love with someone else, or some shit like that, I don’t fuckin’ know.”

“What?” You whispered, voice full of surprise because what the fuck? 

“Right?” He answered, indignant and wide eyed. “I don’t know what she was talkin’ about, she would answer me, just told me she wasn’t in love with me and god, fucking Byers took her home.”

“Jonathan?”

You screwed up your face, hardly even reacting when Steve groaned again, pushing himself back into you, his face comfortably pressed into your chest, just above the swell of your breast, his mouth warm through your shirt. 

It should’ve startled you, the proximity, the intimacy, especially after missing him for so long. But it was still Steve, your best friend, the boy that promised to be there until the very end. 

“Why’d Jonathan take her home?” You asked, your cheek pressed to the top of his head as you spoke, the sheets fluttering around you both as Steve shifted, arms wrapping around you more, pulling you until you were flush with his body. 

He couldn’t have been touching more of you if he tried. 

“She was drunk,” he mumbled into your chest, lips moving over your shirt, making the material shift across your skin and it lit you up, body electric and the air buzzing. “I told him to. She didn’t want me.”

You sighed, eyes closing at the pained sound in the boy’s voice and you let him hold you, your own hand taking into his hair, scratching at his scalp in a way you knew he liked. 

“Steve,” you murmured, soft and sympathetic. 

He whispered your own name back to you, his tone the same and it made you smile. You could feel his own against your chest, lips lifting, breath coming out in a small huff. 

“You could still talk to her tomorrow, y’know?” You said conversationally. You hated yourself for trying to fix it for him, for attempting to out the girl back between you both but fuck if you weren’t a good friend. “Maybe she just said all that shit ‘cause she had too much to drink.”

You twirled a length of the boy’s hair around your finger, making it curl. “Was it Jack Templeman’s punch? That dude makes rocket fuel in a bowl, she might have been absolutely wasted.”

Steve shook his head before he pulled back, falling into your pile of pillows and gazing at you.  

“Nah, I don’t wanna chase her,” he said and despite the sadness in his voice, he sounded sure. “I don’t wanna be with someone who thinks I’m bullshit. I mean, I know I’m not perfect, but damn, bullshit?”

You shook your head, gaze hard and you wanted to shake him, to make him understand how wrong Nancy was. 

“Steve, you're not bullshit.” He held your stare, lips parted. “You’re the furthest thing from that, I’m sorry I don’t know why Nancy said that, I wish I could-”

He stopped you before you could continue, a small smile lifting at his lips and he found your hands between the tangle of sheets, tugging you over to him and onto his chest. You lay your head there, protesting when Steve’s finger poked at your cheek, fond and soft. 

“I know what you’re gonna say, sweetheart, and it’s fine.” He sighed, sleepy and weighted. “You don’t need to fix everything for me, not this time, anyway.“

You fell silent, thinking about the times Steve was referring to, wondering if this was finally the year he stopped needing you. The thought made your chest hurt, your eyes blur and you sniffed. 

“My dad’ll be home from that conference soon,” he mumbled softly and you could tell without even looking at Steve that he had his eyes closed. “You can come fight my battles for me then, how’s that sound short stuff?”

It was silly, his words. The way they made you feel. Like you were needed again, important. Like he didn’t wanna face the things that scared him without you. It hurt that after all those years, he still felt like that about his own father but it calmed a part of you to know that he didn’t seem as cut up about Nancy Wheeler as he once was. 

“Are you okay?” You asked, tentative, and you made a face ‘cause god, that seemed like a stupid fucking question. “Will you be okay?” You asked instead. 

Steve hummed noncommittally and you craned your neck to look up at him, smiling when you were proven right at his closed eyes. His lashes fluttered against his cheeks as you shifted over him, tucking yourself into his side. 

“I mean yeah, sure,” he murmured, voice dropping lower and rougher as sleep pulled at him. “I’ll be fine. I’ve got you, haven’t I?” 

He turned his face to yours at that, nose nudging at your forehead as he blindly sought out your features, pressing a soft, warm kiss to your temple. 

“M’sorry,” he whispered into your hair and you stilled, swallowing the lump that had caught in your throat. “I’m so sorry I’ve not been around.“

You squeezed your eyes closed at his words, letting them burn until you were sure you weren’t going to cry. 

You wanted to say it was okay, to soothe him, to make Steve feel better but the lie got caught on your tongue and you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him something that wasn’t true. 

You shrugged instead, lips twisted to keep them from turning downwards, his words heavy on you because god, you’d missed him so much. 

“I missed you,” Steve whispered and fuck, it lit you up inside. “Like, really missed you.”

He was soft and gentle with it, words brushing against your temple, breath warm, hands twisting in the sides of your shirt, barely grazing at your skin, head butting at yours playfully. 

He was Steve, he was late nights, long days, summer rainstorms, driving lessons, flunking your test, Saturday afternoon drives, feet on the dash, music too loud, smile blinding. 

He was a little bit yours again. 

“Yeah,” you sighed, feeling a little lighter than you had before, eyes falling shut like Steve’s. “I missed you too, Harrington.”

Steve’s breath was becoming slower, chest falling heavy and lazy and you both curled into each other on instinct, sleep pulling both of you together, the same way it did when you were both ten and piled on the sofa, movie still playing. 

“You still my best friend?” His voice was a soft mumble, and you heard the worry there, hidden behind a crack of humour. 

“Yeah, I’m still your best friend.”

—————

You didn’t see Nancy until a week later, and when you did, you didn’t expect her to corner you at your locker, big eyes wide and asking if you could talk. 

You met her after school, walking to the opposite end of the parking lot from where Steve would be waiting on you, perched on the hood of his car as usual. 

Nancy saw you coming, her face a little nervous as she bid goodbye to Jonathan who’d been standing beside her and you watched as they squeezed each other's hand before he took off. 

You raised your brows as you approached, tugging your headphones to sit around your neck and you wondered what Nancy Wheeler could possibly have to say to you. 

The world wasn’t ending, the kids were all safe and she wasn’t your best friend's girl anymore. 

She squinted at you, trying to work out your mood, your emotions but you remained a little stoned faced, wondering if Steve would be pissed if had to see you here. You knew they’d spoken since Halloween, a chat that Steve had said felt too formal and stilted, but the air was cleared enough that they could cross paths when dropping Dustin, Will and Lucas at Mike’s house, an awkward wave exchanged from the front door to the car. 

“You wanna sit?” Nancy asked, gesturing to a bench that sat by the edge of the school line, shadowed by trees that provided a little coverage from the wind that was picking up now that winter was approaching. You kicked at the leaves on the ground and shoved your hands into your jacket pocket, holding it tighter to your body. 

“Sure,” you muttered, following her across the grass, leftover rain sticking to your boots. 

The sky was still blue, a crisp Fall day that turned your nose pink, numbed your fingers and had you wishing for a Hawkins summer, the smell of sunscreen and cut grass replaced with rain and the promise of snow. 

You sat on opposite ends of the bench, bodies turned to face each other and with the safety of your school bags between you both. You picked a dead leaf off the sole of your shoe, waiting for the other girl to talk. 

“Look, I don’t know what Steve’s explained to you,” Nancy said, voice cracking a little with what seemed like nerves. “You know, when we spoke the other week.”

You shrugged, “I mean, not much,” you answered, “but it’s really not my business to know.”

Nancy nodded at that, appreciative, “I guess but I just want us to be friends, you know? I wanted you to understand why I broke it off with Steve. He’s a great guy but-”

“I know he is,” you interrupted, brows pulled together in confusion ‘cause there was never any debate about that. You softened a little when Nancy smiled at you, lips pulled up and eyes a little knowing. “Sorry, that was rude.”

“It’s fine,” she told you, voice lighter than it had been before. “Like I said, Steve’s great… I guess I just didn’t love him the way I should’ve. And maybe that would’ve been a little easier if I didn’t see the way he looked at someone else.”

You frowned, staring at the girl as she looked back at you, silently willing you to catch on. 

“What?” You asked, “I thought this was about you and Jonathan? You can’t act as if you haven’t been glued to Byers hip since this happened.”

Nancy had the right to look guilty, picking at her nail before looking back up at you. “Yeah, no, you’re right. I didn’t mean for what happened with Johnathan to happen… it just did, but that doesn’t make it okay.”

She brushed a curl from her face, bringing her bag down to her feet so there was less separating her from you. The wind rushed at you both, stinging your cheeks and whipping at your clothes before it settled back down and let Nancy speak. 

“I’m not blaming this on Steve, I’m not, and I shouldn’t have said he was bullshit,” she rushed out, “maybe we were just meant for other people you know? And think that, maybe, Steve doesn’t know that he’s already found his person.”

“I genuinely don’t know what you’re talking about,” you huffed, “but whatever. I’m just glad I don’t have to hear the two of you arguing every other day.”  

Nancy nodded, smiling at the way you were avoiding her gaze, your mind suddenly racing with what she’d said. 

“For what it’s worth,” the girl murmured, foot nudging friendly against yours, “it would probably make it a lot easier on the poor guy if this girl could admit that she was in love with him too.”

“Alright, yeah,” you stood up suddenly, cheeks flushed and your head a little scattered. “I think you’ve got it twisted Wheeler, but, uh, good talk.”

The girl hid a laugh, pressing her lips together as she watched you gather your bag, eyes shining. Nancy nodded, looking up at you as you stood a little awkwardly. You raised a hand in a goodbye, a small smile lifting at your lips in what seemed like an amicable agreement. 

You stopped before you got too far, the sun in your eyes as you squinted back at the girl who was still sitting on the bench. 

“Hey, Nancy?” She looked at you, eyes surprised. 

“Yeah?”

“Are you happy?” You asked and she was taken aback at how genuine you sounded. She paused, eyes flicking over to where Jonathan’s car was parked, engine idling as he waited for her. 

She nodded, resolute. “Yeah, I am,” she answered quietly and confidently. 

You nodded too, surprised at how it warmed you to hear that. You never wished ill on the girl, you just didn’t like how she broke your best friend, leaving you to put him back together again, piece by piece. 

“I’m glad Steve’s got you, you know,” she called back before you could start to walk away again and her words made your heart stumble. You swallowed, looking at her with parted lips. “He’s lucky to have you.”

And well, wasn’t that a statement to behold?

When you finally clambered into Steve’s car, bringing the chill and some stray leaves from the outside, Steve was frowning softly, concerned by your lateness. 

He looked at your flushed cheeks, pink nose and glassy eyes from the sharp wind and cranked up the heat, pointing his vents to your side too. 

“Where’ve you been?” He asked, voice worried, “I was gonna call in the kids, start a search party.”

You laughed, a little strained after the conversation you had, rubbing your hands together for warmth and you shrugged, noncommittal. 

“I was uh, just catching up with a friend.”

Can I go where you go? 

When Steve got a job after graduation at Scoops Ahoy, it was supposed to mean free ice cream and catching a late showing at the cinema after his shifts. 

It brought you Robin Buckley, Steve in a sailors hat, a new flavour of ice cream every month and fucking Russians. 

You thought dimensions and demogorgons were about as much as you could handle but Dustin came back from camp with a new gadget he’d built, some kind of high tech radio that looked like it was held together with duct tape and paper clips but the thing actually worked. 

It worked well enough to pick up secret codes from underground labs, translated by Robin and well, fuck. Suddenly you were trapped in an elevator that wasn’t actually supposed to be an elevator and Erica Sinclair was going to miss her Uncle Jack’s party. 

You knew Steve wasn’t happy with you, you could tell by the way his jaw was set, the way that he looked at you when he thought you weren’t paying attention, and his lips twisted and his gaze dropped when you tried to catch his gaze. 

It made the air in the elevator crackle and buzz, tension on top of tension as you moved around each other, looking for a way out, hardly touching, hardly speaking. Robin twisted her lips, sympathetic, when she caught your gaze, your face flushed with annoyance. 

He’d told you not to come. 

Not out of meanness, or because you had fallen out, simply because he didn’t want you in harm's way. You’d ended up yelling at each other, a hundred feet below the mall and trapped in a metal box because why did it matter when Robin and the kids were stuck there too?

Steve, of course, cared that he had another friend, a thirteen year old and a ten year old to keep safe and he had every intention of doing so. But he couldn’t help but feel sick, his stomach rolling, at the thought of you being put in a dangerous situation. 

You’d told him that he was being stupid, that you weren’t leaving him. You thought you’d seen all the dangers Hawkins had to offer, you could handle yourself, you could help him. 

His worst fears came true when you all got split up, Dustin and Erica hopefully somewhere above you all, on their way for help, for something, anything. 

But then a man came, tall and dressed in uniform, badges adorning his chest, and he took one look at the way Steve stood in front of you when he entered and swung for the side of his head. 

The boy fell backwards, dazed, groaning at the shock and pain of it all before pulling himself off of the floor, body slow and sluggish. He lifted his head in time to see the same man gripping you by the back of your neck, hair fisted painfully in his grasp as he pulled you out of the room. Robin was yelling, swearing as she tried to get a grip on you, her hand wrapped around your ankle from where she was on the floor but you were pulled from her easily, a swift kick sent to her stomach for the audacity of her trying. 

Steve felt his heart leave his chest, plummeting to his stomach, his blood running cold and everything around him slowed down. His vision was fuzzy but he could see the panic on your face, lips parted in a gasp as you tried to get to grips with what was happening. 

Russians. A lab. Under Starcourt Mall. 

He couldn’t move fast enough and he wanted to yell out, he wanted to run. But it was like being trapped in a bad dream, body damp, sheets tangled around his limbs as he tried his best to scream, to move, but nothing fucking happened. 

The door slammed shut before the ringing in his ears could stop and he could taste blood in his tongue, metallic and horribly warm. He made his fists bleed from pounding on the door, knuckles cracked and bruised, voice wrecked from yelling your name. 

He only stopped when the man came back, pulled him from Robin's side and threw more hits to his face, his body. His skin was littered with angry bruises, almost black, skipping the shades of lavender and pink, turning inky within minutes. 

Between each punch, Steve spat out blood and asked where you were, groaning as he spoke. He was ignored, time and time again, until he lost it completely, tried to lash out, fists swinging, legs thrashing and he wasn’t sure if he was crying, or it was just blood dripping down his face but he wanted to sob, desperate for you. 

He was thrown to a chair, tied back to back with Robin as some guy in a white coat threatened him with surgical equipment that looked like it didn’t belong in a hospital and when his eyes fell shut with the weight of his injuries, he wondered if he’d ever see his best friend again. 

You were finally gathered up in what could’ve been hours later, maybe one, maybe five. A guard tugged at your wrists, taped together and red raw from where you’d tried to pull them apart and suddenly you were pushed through the same door they’d taken you from, thrown at Steve’s feet and the yelling continued. 

Who did you work for, who did you work for, who did you work for?

It didn’t end until people were dead and Starcourt Mall was on fire. 

Alarms had gone off, Dustin rushing in with an electric cattle prod of all things, weidling it like battleaxe and telling you all you had to run. You weren’t sure who was supporting who as you all tumbled back to the surface, dripping blood and tears onto the mall floor as Steve gripped your hand with a fierceness you’d never experienced from him before.

But then there were guns, El broken but still fighting, the rest of your friends, concern and confusion written on their faces ‘cause when you had all been fighting Russian Soviets, they’d been fighting Billy, the evil inside of him turning him into something different from the boy you’d seen in the school halls.

You’d held Max when he fell, body bloodied and ripped open, eyes glassy like he’d known what was coming. You left the mall that night with a new fear of loud noises, of fireworks that cracked and snapped in the sky. You knew what burning flesh smelled like, you knew that there was more to be said about monsters, more danger in the world than just the creatures that lurked in the cracks of the earth.

You knew that evil could come in the shape of a man, a familiar face, behind a uniform, a doctor's white lab coat. 

You were tired, beaten, a little bloodied and bruised and your throat was raw after you’d screamed for Steve, fists beating on the door as you went ignored. You heard him from behind the steel walls, his voice as wrecked and panicked as your own and you sobbed when you heard his yells turn to groans, sickening wet thumps of bone hitting bone, breaking up the sound of him calling out your name. 

You sat beside him in the ambulance, hands still clutching each other tightly, fear of being torn apart again ripping through you both. The medic wanted to take him to hospital, to make sure his cheekbone wasn’t shattered, that you both weren’t suffering from shock or concussion but Steve refused, just wanting to go fucking home.

The sky was angry, red and crying, plumes of black and crimson smoke billowing from the broken building and you didn’t know what to do. People were dead and the whole world seemed to be burning. 

But Steve took you by the hand, pulled you to his side as you made sure everyone was okay, as well as they could be considering the circumstances and the boy stood a little numb as he watched you drop to your knees and fold Max into a hug, tears streaking through the blood and dirt on your cheeks when you pressed a kiss to El’s forehead. 

Everyone was a little broken, barely standing, barely breathing and it didn’t seem difficult to continue the lie to your parents, calling them from a pay phone to say that you were okay, you had seen the news but it was fine, you had been at Steve’s the whole time, you’d be home in the morning.

You let Jonathan bundle you both into the back of his car, one of his old jackets thrown around your shoulders as Nancy sat in the front, Steve beside you, shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh. He dropped you both at Steve’s front door, little to be said between the hour of you as shock and tiredness tugged at your bodies, your heads. Hands were pressed to shoulders, squeezing softly, telling each other everything you all needed to say but couldn’t - not then, not just yet.

Thank you, I’m sorry, I’m glad you’re okay, I’m happy you’re safe.

The Harrington house was empty, as expected and the rooms felt darker and colder than they had before, empty and too big, your harsh breaths rattling too loudly and you could feel a panic building inside you, clawing at your chest. 

It grew when you looked at Steve’s face, dried blood and dark bruises making him look like he was about to fall apart and when you squeezed your eyes closed, you could hear the way he yelled your name, raw and broken.

A sob bubbled from your throat, spilling from your lips and you’d barely taken a breath before Steve was in front of you, arms pulling you into him, a hand around your neck, foreheads pressed together. It was supposed to ground you - and it did, in a way - but the cries still came, stuttered and broken, the heavy kind of sobs that made your body heave with the exertion of it all. 

Steve held you through it, both of you swaying unsteady on your feet in the middle of his hall, shoes streaking dirt across Mrs. Harrington’s white tiles. Neither of you could ask the other if they were okay, ‘cause the answer was obvious but when your tears finally stopped, your face wet and your head sore, the boy took you by the hand and led you up the stairs. 

He walked past his bedroom door, the little slice of heaven you most wanted at that moment in time, the only place in the large house that truly felt like home to you both. It was a surprise when he nudged open the door to the main bathroom, rarely used due to all the ensuites that were accessed through bedrooms but the large corner tub there suddenly looked like a gift from above. 

You felt like a spare part when Steve let go of you long enough to turn the taps, filling the bath with hot water and a mixture of his mother’s expensive soaps and bath milks, sweet smelling bubbles and steam filling the room. 

You found a first aid kit underneath the sink, pushed to the back of the cupboard, unused and when you motioned to the boy to sit on the closed toilet seat, he did without arguing. He spread his legs for you without you needing to ask, standing between his knees with a bottle of antiseptic and some cotton balls, more tears slipping down your cheeks as you mumbled out apologies, dabbing the stinging liquid into his skin.

Steve simply held onto your legs, eyes closed and his hands wrapped around the back of your knees, his thumbs stroking over the sensitive skin there as he whispered back, telling you it was okay, it’s fine, I'm fine sweetheart. 

The cuts on his face didn’t seem as angry, as severe, when you wiped away the blood that crusted around them but the dark bruises seemed mean and vicious against the pale cast of his skin, shock seeping out all the colour from his cheeks. 

He let you press a kiss to his forehead, clutching at the sides of his head, fingers buried in his damp, messy hair and the push of your lips was fierce, conveying everything you wanted to say but couldn’t, because fuck, you didn’t know how to tell your best friend that you think you were falling in love with him. Because how else could the thought of losing someone hurt so fucking much?

Steve left you alone to bathe, skin stinging as you stripped down to your underwear, your body and bones lazy as you pulled at your jeans and shirt. You gave up when you got down to your underwear, cotton pants and lacy bralette mismatching in a clash of cherry print and forest green and they both stuck to your skin as you slid into the hot water. 

You drew your knees to your chest, eyes closed and head pressed there as you let the heat nip at you, cuts and scrapes protesting but it was good to feel something when your head felt numb, your chest hollow. You weren’t sure how long you sat there for but you could've sworn someone was calling your name, a knock on the door echoing on the tiles and your mouth felt too fuzzy to answer. 

Steve could only hear the slow, steady drip of the tap and panic rose in his chest when you didn’t answer him and he had thoughts of you unconscious and slipping beneath the bubbles. 

So he knocked once more, heart racing before he turned the handle and pushed at the door a little, calling out your name. 

He heard the water splash at the sides of the tub, movement at least. But then he heard you sniff, the noise turning to soft sobs and it gripped at his heart, crushed it a little and before he knew it, he was in the bathroom, bare feet on the tiles and staring down at you, tucked into the smallest ball you could amongst the bubbles.

Neither of you spoke as Steve pulled off the shirt and cotton sweats he’d changed into, his own eyes glassey as he left his boxers on, stepping into the water with you, sitting down in the space behind you.

It felt like the most natural thing in the world when he spread his legs and pulled you into them, your back to his bare chest as he wrapped his arms around your knees too, holding you to him. He let you cry like that, head bent over yours, the two of you curled into the water together, steam licking at your skin. You think you felt a tear drop from his eye, warm as it slid through your hair and onto your cheek and the feel of it made you search for his hand, scrambling desperately under the hot water and foam so you could link your fingers through his.

Your grip on each other was as tight as it was when he’d pulled you to your feet after Dustin saved you from pliers and scalpels, the same way it had been when a six year old Steve had helped you up from the playground, knees scraped and front tooth missing after falling from the monkey bars. It was the same touch you granted him when you were twelve and he had to go to the emergency room, his arm broken after falling off of his bike. You’d begged to ride in the ambulance with him and his mom, his ink stained fingers reaching for you, not Mrs. Harrington. 

When you had no tears left to give and the water was turning lukewarm, Steve turned the tap again, let the hot water fill the room back up with steam and soothe your tired bodies. He grabbed a sponge, tapped at your knee until you turned to him, face to face and unbelievably vulnerable. 

But you let him smooth the sponge over the bare skin that he could see, up your arms, wiping away the soot from the fire, the stubborn dried blood that didn’t want to leave. He squeezed warm water over your chest, looking at your eyes and definitely not your bra, the pretty, green lace turning darker against your skin.

He pressed a kiss to your hair when you let your head fall into him, too tired to sit up and when you couldn’t hear the far away whine of sirens in the distance anymore, he helped you stand, the water that was light pink with blood swirling down the drain. He wrapped you both in towels, murmuring the whole time that you were okay, he had you, it was gonna be fine. 

You pulled your favourite shirt from underneath his pillow, tugging it on and falling into his bed, the smell of Steve and home surrounding you in the same way that the sheets did, soft and comforting. The boy clambered in beside you, body stiff and pain settling in his bones but you glued yourself to his side, hands intertwined and pressed between your chests and you couldn’t close your eyes until Steve leaned into you, breath warm and smelling of mint as he pressed his lips to your ear as he told you: “Remember when I promised you that I’d protect you from everything bad?”

You nodded, remembering that cherry flavoured popsicle and the way Steve’s pool looked so much bigger and deeper back then. “We were eight, Steve.”

He hummed in agreement, forehead rubbing fond against your own and you revelled in the fact that you both smelled like the same cotton and lemongrass body wash. 

“We were,” he agreed, voice a soft whisper, cracking a little from the yelling that had ripped his throat apart. “But the promise still stands, sweetheart.”

You opened your eyes to look at them and he looked a little fuzzy as you teared up. But Steve shook his head gently, hand tightening around your smaller one.

“No more tears, please babe,” he sniffed too, as if the entire night suddenly hit him, “I got you now, yeah? I’m never gonna let anythin’ happen to you, promise.”

You slept then, a little broken and fitful, but every time you shifted in your sleep, the boy followed, bodies traversing across the mattress and between the sheets. When you woke in the morning, you had your head on Steve’s chest, a leg thrown over his own, your thigh hitched high over his and his arms were a vice grip around you, his face pressed to the top of your head. 

The sheets were on the floor, a pillow by the door as if it had been kicked and the sun was shining through the gap in the curtain, bright and warm and mocking. The world felt a little different after that night, and so did your friendship with Steve Harrington. 

I've loved you three summers now, honey, but I want 'em all. 

Working at Family Video with both Robin and Steve meant that you got to spend a lot more time with your friends. It also meant that Robin was more privy to watching how you and Steve interacted with each other and it had the girl taking notes on your relationship with the boy like her new favourite science experiment. 

“Look, I’m just saying, he’s not really dated since Starcourt and the boy lost it over you that night.” 

You rolled your eyes, still putting away the videos that were stacked in your arms as Robin followed you up and down the aisles. The store was quiet, a Tuesday afternoon giving you little to do but you’d graduated after you fought a monster and survived the soviets, so applying for colleges wasn’t all that high on your to do list. 

Your parents had taken that news better than Steve’s, both couples perplexed at their kids' choices to stay in Hawkins and work for the summer but at least your Dad had threatened bodily harm against you when you’d told him. 

You eyed Steve who was on the other end of the store, leaning lazy against the counter as he ticked off the delivery list. He looked a little older, like you did, but the stubble on his jaw and the broadness of his shoulders made your lips part every time you chanced a look. 

He was still Steve, but he was a little taller, a little stronger. He was still late night drives and sneaking through your window, mixtapes on your birthday and cherry popsicles in his backyard during the summer. Maybe he flirted a little more with you, comments suggestive and compliments coming easier but you tried not to think about it. When you did, late at night and alone in bed, it made your head spin, your lips part, your eyes close. 

You sighed, turning to Robin to tell her with an exasperated whisper, “we’ve been best friends since pre-k, of course he was upset that I was dragged away by a fucking Russian Soviet, Robin.”

She rolled her eyes at you, stumbling over her own foot as she tried to keep up. Steve glanced up at you both at the noise, brows furrowed as you both froze, eyes a little wide and you waved, hands raised awkwardly in unison. 

“What’re you both doing?” He called out, suspicion lacing his voice and you felt heat travel from your chest to your cheeks. 

“Nothing,” Robin called out at the same time you told him you were fixing the horror section. 

Your voices piled over each other and you wanted to groan, because Robin couldn’t lie to save herself and now you both looked like idiots. But Steve just smiled, fond, and turned back to his stack of papers. 

“I'm telling you,” Robin continued, voice a little lower now, “Steve likes you, like, he likes you, likes you. Why can’t you see that?”

You stopped and turned at her last words, truly taken aback at how sincere she sounded, how confused she seemed. 

‘Cause Steve was still Steve and you were still you and nothing in the world could really change that. Steve had promised you that he’d always be your best friend, and at nineteen, that still seemed like a pretty sweet deal. 

You shrugged, pushing the last copy of Nightmare On Elm Street onto the shelf and you crossed your arms over your chest, suddenly feeling far too exposed at her interrogation. 

“It’s not like that,” you told her, whispering still, “it’s never been like that with Steve.”

She huffed, swiping a finger along the row of videos and blowing away the dust she’d collected. Robin turned, an eyebrow raised. “Would you want it to be like that? ‘Cause seriously, dude, I still can’t believe that, in like, sixteen years of friendship, you’ve never even kissed once.”

You shrugged again, holding back on telling the girl that sometimes you thought the same. 

When you were fourteen, you thought that Steve was going to be your first kiss. Looking back, you weren’t sure why, you just did. Maybe it was a feeling, maybe it was hope, maybe it was just inevitable. 

‘Cause you grew up beside the boy and never once did he feel like a brother, and that had to mean something, right? He held your hand when you watched scary movies, when you crossed the road on Main Street, when it was rush hour, just like your parents had told you to when you were seven. He never dropped your hand, he never kicked you from his side of the bed when the movies you watched together became too much. 

You went through middle school and high school still the same, joined at the hip, still sharing secrets, still holding hands when things got too hard. 

But then one summer, Hayley Collins had a birthday party and you’d been sick, too ill to attend but Steve had still stood underneath your bedroom window, features twisted with conflict as you told him it was fine, he could go without you. You remember telling him to have fun, and to bring you back some candy. 

He did. He brought you back fistfuls of sweet stuff, bags of M&M’s and pop rocks but you didn’t expect him to bring his lips to your ear and tell you a secret you never expected. 

Steve had had his first kiss. A game of spin the bottle in Hayley’s basement with her cousin who was from out of town. A girl a year older, a girl who had pretty blonde curls and a reason to wear a real bra. 

You remembered the feeling when your heart sank and the pop rocks stopped fizzing on your tongue. You wondered why the sugar tasted bitter, why your eyes were suddenly pricking with hot tears and when the boy asked if you were okay, a grin slipping from his lips, you lied and told him that you still felt sick. 

You turned to Robin, a fake smile pulling at your lips as you tried to act casual, as if her words weren’t kickstarting a feeling in your chest that you had been trying so hard to ignore for the last five years. 

You furrowed your brow, turned to the cart that was still full of videos no thanks to your friend, and picked up another pile. You stacked them until they reached your chin, until they gave you a reason to walk to the other side of the stands and take a deep breath.

“I haven’t really thought about it,” you lied, and it felt heavy on your tongue, tasting too sweet and sinful. Because of course you had. “It’s not something that’s crossed my mind.”

Robin saw right through you and you could tell by the way her brows rose and she hid her smile behind a press of her lips. 

“Sure,” she said, voice too light. “Humour me then. What do you think would happen if you did let it cross your mind?”

You stared at her, mouth agape, because what the fuck was the girl getting at. 

She grabbed some of the videos you were holding, The Exorcist close to slipping from its slot underneath your chin and she started stacking them beside you, completely out of alphabetical order, but that was a problem for another day. 

“Just listen,” she said and you hated how she sounded excited. “What do you think would happen if you asked Steve to kiss you?”

She dropped a box, cursing when the corner of it hit her toe but she bounced back up, bright eyes still brimming with all the thoughts that were swirling round her head at once. 

“Cause you know he would, right? Like the poor guy can’t say no to you, he’s never been able to.”

You made a sound of protest, heart hammering in your chest because Steve was still right there, fingers running though his hair, pen between his lips and so completely fucking oblivious. 

But Robin suddenly stopped and spun to face you. She wrapped a hand around your wrist, soft and warm and you could tell she was choosing her words carefully before she said them, a sure fire way to tell that the girl was being serious. 

“There’s a reason that none of his girlfriends have stuck around, babe,” Robin murmured, sincerity lacing every word. “It’s ‘cause he always picks you, every time.”

—————

It had been a week since Robin had cornered you at work, whispering to you about Steve and kissing and god, you couldn’t stop thinking about it. 

You thought about it when he gave you a ride home after work, sun setting, the day turning pink and casting indigo shadows over his face, the line of his jaw, the curve of his mouth. 

You thought about it when he pushed himself into you during Saturday morning shifts, his body lazy as he leant against you, his chest to your back and his head on your shoulder. It felt softer and intimate than when he’d done it before, your mind running wild with the idea that if you turned around and kissed him, right there in the middle of Family Video, he might kiss you back. 

You thought about it when you were lying by his pool, his parents gone, the kids and Dustin’s new friend Eddie starting water fights on the lawn. You’d watch the way Steve watched you, jealous eyes and lips pouted when Eddie soaked you with a water balloon, skin damp, cheeks flushed and eyes bright. You watched how he softened and lit up again, your attention on him when you shook your wet hair over his bare chest and you couldn’t help but notice how his gaze followed the movements you made when you bent to slide your shorts back up your legs. 

So maybe it was for those reasons that you turned to him one Friday night, when it was just the two of you out in his backyard, and asked him why he’d never kissed you. 

It could’ve been the joint you’d been sharing making you feel braver, or maybe the shadows that you were hiding in, the spaces that the pool lights didn’t quite reach. 

Maybe it was the way Steve had been looking at you each time you took the joint from his lips and put it between your own. Hair a little messy, eyes hooded, jaw slack. 

Maybe it was because of all of it. Maybe it was because you were nineteen and growing impatient. Maybe it was sixteen years of build up. Of wondering, wanting, waiting. 

The air smelled the same way it did when you were eight, chlorine and cedar from the trees, that afternoon's sunscreen mixing with weed and smoke. Your tongue was stained red from the popsicle you’d had, Steve’s blue and there were new freckles on both of your faces, noses a little pink from lying out in the sun all day. 

And when the afternoon faded into evening and the sky was lilac, Steve produced a joint with a grin, a wiggle of his brows and suddenly you were lying on the deck together, the pool filter trickling in the background and laughing soft as you blew smoke into the night. 

There was a buzz of insects from the forest that stood behind the house, the faint hum of someone’s music that played from a couple of yards over and you felt the warmth radiate from the boy from where he lay beside you. 

Your bare feet pointed to opposite ends of the pool, one of yours dipped into the water and your heads were touching, cheek to cheek. If you turned to look at him, you knew your lips could slip over his easily and the thought of it made your body fizz. 

He had just plucked the joint from your mouth, thumb grazing clumsy over your top lip, fitting pretty into the dip of your Cupid’s bow when you tilted your head, cheek resting on the patio, the slabs still warm from the afternoon sun. 

“Hey, Harrington,” you sounded quiet and lazy, like you didn’t have a care in the world. But god, your heart was in your throat, pulsing like a warning. “You ever thought ‘bout kissing me?”

If Steve was shocked, he didn’t show it, not really. His eyes widened slightly, joint hanging slack from his lips and he stubbed it out on the concrete before swallowing, hard. 

He turned to you, noses almost brushing and you watched the way his gaze settled on your lips. 

“Why d’you ask?” His voice was a hush, warm and rough. 

You shrugged, boldness faltering because he hadn’t answered your question but holy shit, he was still looking at your mouth, the way your tongue snuck out to wet your bottom lip before you spoke. 

“Just something Robin said,” you told him, nose scrunched. 

Your words made his lips part, nodding in understanding because of course Robin was involved and the girl had been at him too, hounding him in the stockroom at work, calling him out on his obvious crush on your over old, dusty videos. 

But all the boy could say was, “oh.”

And then there was silence, for a second, maybe two. It felt like minutes, like an hour, like the sky was suddenly crashing down on you, as if lavender clouds and the stars were going to bury you were you lay but then-

“I have,” Steve said, quietly sure. You looked over at him as he blew out a breath, “course I’ve thought about it. ‘Bout kissing you.”

“Oh,” it was your turn to keep silent, his admission washing over you like a tsunami sized wave, one that you weren’t sure you’d be able to keep your head above. 

You sat up suddenly, shocking Steve and he leaned up onto his elbows with wide eyes, watching as you turned to face him, legs crossed and knees knocking into his thighs. 

“Why haven’t we?” You asked, bemusement colouring your tone and you couldn’t help but press your hand to his where it lay on the deck. Your fingers brushed over his, a new kind of touch. “Why haven’t we ever kissed?”

You wondered if he could hear your heartbeat, if it was rattling against your ribs as loud as it seemed to be. You held your breath as Steve sat up too, mirroring your pose and crossing his legs until you were knee to knee and looking like a couple of innocent kids again. 

He shrugged, blowing out another breath and he tugged a hand through the front of his hair, making it stand on end. He looked a little wild, like you short circuited him, like you were half way to ruining him. 

The boy’s voice cracked a little when he tried to answer and you wondered if this was okay, if you should’ve asked but then Steve was speaking, his thumb drawing absentminded circles over your bare knee.  

“I’m not really sure,” he said and he spoke soft and quiet, like he was telling you a secret. “I suppose I just didn’t wanna lose my best friend.”

It was the answer you expected. Best friend first, the prospect of a girl to kiss in the background of his mind. You should’ve been happy, you should’ve felt loved, but the idea of never having Steve in the way you realised you wanted him was becoming more crushing by the day. 

“Or maybe,” he suddenly continued, “I guess… I guess I didn’t realise I was allowed to.”

Your lips parted at that, a small bomb dropped in the middle of the Harrington’s backyard. You waited for the pool to empty, for the small wave to hit your back, for the sky to light up but nothing came and Steve was watching you, waiting. 

“You’re allowed to,” you whispered and oh my god, you didn’t feel high enough for this, but you continued, tummy dropping and skin electric. “You’ve always been allowed to.”

You heard Steve’s breath hitch and it only felt natural when his hand came up to cup the back of your neck, thumb pressed to the spot behind your ear and god, he was leaning in and so were you. 

“I just don’t know if we should,” he was telling you but he was still moving into you and his hand never fell away from your face. 

“It’s just a kiss,” you told him, voice shot, lips falling apart and you could smell his aftershave, the leftover chlorine that stuck to his skin and he was summer, he was cherry and smoke and god, he was forbidden, he was yours. “Friends can kiss, doesn’t have to mean anything.”

“It’s really just curiosity, right?”

His nose was bumping against yours, both of your eyes fluttering closed at the feel of the other's breath falling across your lips and you wondered if he’d taste like his popsicle, blue raspberry, sugar and fizz. 

You nodded at his question, too gone to speak and the movement made your top lip brush against his. Sparks against your skin, electric, dangerous and it made you sigh. 

“Steve?” You whispered, eyes squeezed shut like you were seven again and making a wish beside your birthday cake, candles making your skin glow.

He hummed, thumb still pushing against that spot on your neck, “yeah sweetheart?”

“Will you kiss me?”

And fuck, maybe Robin was right because the boy didn’t say no. In fact, Steve didn’t say anything, he just moved into you until your nose was pressed into his cheek and his lips were plush against yours and oh my god you were kissing your best friend.  

He still tasted like raspberry, like you thought he would. Like summer and promises and pool days and a little smoke and Steve. 

It was a slow push of his lips to your own, mouths slanting over each other’s, soft and languid like you both knew this was your only chance. You thought you heard him moan, a soft, low noise that made your chest hurt and when the kiss lingered, you brought your hands to his cheeks, fingers splayed over his jaw as you tugged him a little closer, greedy. 

And when his tongue licked at the curve of your bottom lip, his hand travelled to tilt at your chin, asking you to open for him, you did, no questions asked. You sighed, blissed out, when his tongue slid over yours, a hand falling to fist in his t-shirt, soft cotton crumpled in your hand because you felt like you were going to float away. 

Then Steve was pulling back, chest heaving, forehead pressed to yours and eyes still slammed shut as he gave you another secret, pressed to the corner of your mouth, your jaw, the curve of your neck. 

“I always thought you were gonna be my first kiss,” he said it like a confession, like something holy. “M’sorry you weren’t.”

And then he was back on you, lips melted between your own and you knew that the pretty noises that you pulled from him would play like a record in your dreams for months on end. Steve was grasping at your hip, the material of your dress bunched under his hand, making the cotton hitch higher up your thighs. 

You were in his lap, wide hands on your sides, guiding you as you kissed him, lovesick, eyes closed, body buzzing and you fell across his knees, thighs shifting apart to cage him underneath you and oh my god. 

Fuck. 

You sat a little higher than him, knees planted on the deck and his head was tilted back to kiss you as you crowded him. One hand was on your jaw, thumb rubbing against your cheek as he kissed you deeper now, a little dirty and when he pulled a small moan from you, his hand clasped at the back of your thigh, skin on skin. 

You could feel him hard underneath you and it made your head feel fuzzy, your body pleading with you to drag yourself along the length of him, hips rolling, chest heaving. 

When you pulled back, panting, the reflections of the pool were bouncing off your faces, ripples of light dancing across the boy's features, hitting his eyes and turning them caramel. You felt golden when he touched you, skin lit up, the air around you both crackling like a storm was coming. 

Maybe it was still the weed, maybe it was a new found courage, maybe it was just teenage hormones and the thought of seeing each other naked for the first time since you were both four, but when Steve asked if he could take you inside, you didn’t hesitate to say yes. 

It felt different in his bedroom when you both tumbled in, colliding with the dresser as you kissed each other like you meant it, like you’d never do it again. The room felt smaller, darker, softer, more intimate than it had ever been for you and suddenly you felt like a girl at the end of date. 

Steve touched you like you were more than just his best friend and it made your stomach roll, your thighs rub together and you couldn’t quite get over the way his hand spanned the width of your cheek, fingertips grazing your hairline whilst his thumb managed to pull at your bottom lip, eager for more of you. 

It all got a little wild after that, loose change and bottles of aftershave cologne clattering off of the drawers, falling to the floor as Steve picked you up and slammed you on top of it, legs spreading for him to fit in between. Hands roamed up your thighs, pushing at the soft skin there until he hitched a knee up and over his hip, pressing himself into you. 

Your dress came off first, his shirt following, a mix of colours on the carpet and he pressed his lips to the skin he uncovered, mouth over lavender lace and delicate straps. 

It felt desperate, you felt desperate. And when he sucked a bruise into the column of your throat, you keened, high and needy. It made the boy groan, mouth vibrating against your chest as he kissed over the lace triangles covering you, his gaze flicking up to watch you nod at him before he was pushing one aside, tongue smoothing over a nipple. 

It made you grab at his hair, fingers delving deep, tugging in appreciation and you were prepared for the sound it pulled from him, low in the back of his throat and it made his eyes flutter shut. 

“Sweetheart,” Steve huffed out, hands skimming up and down your sides as he pressed his forehead to yours, “I’m gonna come in my pants if you keep that up.”

He sounded wild, unravelled and sharp around the edges. It made you feel full of power, pretty lips and lace and soft skin, and you pressed the softest kiss to Steve’s mouth, his breath coming in harsh pants and before you could ask, you were being manhandled again, legs around his waist and his hands on your ass. 

He sat you both on the bed like that, spread out pretty on top of him, knees pushed into the mattress as you pulled at his belt, holding yourself up as he shuffled out of his jeans. He sucked tiny bruises on your collar bones as your bra was peeled off, nothing but your underwear separating you both and you felt his hands drag down your back, a touch that was so affectionate and soft that it took your breath away. 

Then night seemed slower after that, like time paused for you both, just for you to remember every touch. Like the world stopped spinning on its axis just for you two, just so you would both remember the way the other felt, ‘cause fuck, you had a feeling this wouldn’t happen again. 

“We don’t have to go any further,” Steve gasped, lips barely leaving yours as pushed and pulled at your hips, helping you rock over him, body rolling across his lap. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

But you were ready to climb him, your hands grabbing at his hair to tug him back to you, kisses swallowing his words and telling the boy that you wanted exactly the opposite. 

It was strange how natural it felt, to tug the length of him out of his boxers, the feel of him hot and hard in your hand. You shuffled in Steve’s lap as he palmed you over the lace of your underwear, breath uneven. It didn’t take long for him to tug them down your legs as he slid on a condom, your foot kicking purple lace to his bedroom floor and you suddenly felt like you were underwater; body moving lazy and slow as you lifted yourself onto your knees, Steve’s hands strong and reassuring as you took him in your hand and sunk down onto him.

Neither of you moved, bodies tangled and still as you fit perfectly in his lap, arms wrapped around each other as you panted heavy into parted lips. Steve whispered your name, like a prayer, soft and broken before he pushed his lips to yours, head tilted into you so he could catch your lips deep and slow.

He grunted in surprise when you tightened around him, body clenching on his at the touch of his tongue across your bottom lip and you whimpered, hips beginning to wiggle. This was more than you’d felt before, more than wandering hands in back seats, more than a quick and fast hook-up in a party bathroom, more than fingers under skirts in your bedroom when your parents were asleep across the hall. 

“Can I move?” You ask, quiet, your hands grappling desperately at Steve’s shoulders palming over the muscles there. “I need to move, Steve, please.” If you were begging, you didn’t care, because you felt so full, so tight around him and you couldn’t help but admire the way the boy looked underneath you. 

But Steve didn’t have you waiting long, any teasing long forgotten about ‘cause he felt like he was wound too tight and you felt like fucking heaven around him. You didn’t know your eyes were wet until his thumb smoothed over your cheekbone, breath stuttering and you both gasped and swore when you lifted yourself up, just to rock yourself back down.

He moaned your name so prettily, lips glossy from your kisses and his eyes were hooded, gaze set on you, jaw slack, hands roaming across the expanse of your back as he held you to him. 

You moved over him with purpose, Steve answering with low groans and he pulled soft whimpers from you, your hand catching his face so you could look at him, gazes heavy and hot, pinned to each other. Your thumb found the curve of his bottom lip, tugging a little and Steve moaned when the pad of it slid over the edge of his teeth. “Steve,” you gasped, hips moving messy and the boy grabbed at your ass, helping you ride him a little faster. 

“That’s it, sweetheart, tell me, tell me what you want and I’ll give you it,” he pressed his lips to yours as he spoke, words slipping over your lips, your tongue and god, they tasted sweet. “I’ll give you anything.”

“More,” was all you could manage, breath hitching, eyes slamming shut ‘cause Steve’s hand dropped between you both, skin slick and he pressed his thumb over your clit; quick, hot circles that made stars flash behind your eyelids. “Close?” Steve asked, voice rough and you nodded, moving a little wilder over him, the boy reciprocated, hands holding your hips still so he could thrust up hard into you until you were biting down on the muscle on his shoulder, thighs tensing, eyes tearing up. 

Steve whispered your name when he came, arms tight around you, head buried in the crook of your neck, eyes squeezed shut, hoping and praying that he’d always remember the way you felt around him.

He kissed you one last time that night, bodies still naked and stretched out between his sheets and you didn’t say anything to each other as you caught your breaths, eyes wide on each other. There was a part of you that wished you could have the excuse of alcohol, too messy after some party to remember. You couldn’t blame the weed either, the half smoked joint still stubbed out in the backyard, hardly enough to do anything than let you both share a buzz. 

In the morning, you pulled on your clothes, wrinkled on Steve’s bedroom floor, still smelling of smoke and the boy. You tiptoed around his room, searching for your underwear, your shoes, all while the boy lay on his bed, face down, hair mussed and the white sheets barely covering his waist.

You wish you had it in you to let yourself drop back down into bed with, to have the courage to press a kiss to the freckle on his right shoulder, smooth a soft hand down his spine. But the sun was coming in through the window and your lips were still swollen from your best friend’s kisses and everything was starting to taste like a mistake. 

You didn’t know it, but Steve was awake as you left, eyes open and face pressed into the pillow that still smelled like your shampoo, heart beating wild in his chest but he didn’t move, didn’t call out to stop you. And well, that was that. 

My heart's been borrowed and yours has been blue. 

You didn’t talk about it. 

A week passed and neither did Steve and before you knew it, you were a month down the line, the feel of your best friend's lips on your skin feeling like a fever dream and you didn’t know if you’d ever be able to forget the feel of him moving against you, inside you. 

It hurt to look at him, for a while. It got worse before it got better, stilted conversations and awkward eye contact, the taste of regret in both of your tongues and all the things you wanted to say to each other were left unsaid. 

But it was fine. 

Steve asked you round for a movie one Friday, videos stacked on the coffee table in his living room, your favourite sweater of his lying out on the arm of the sofa along with red vines and the good kinda popcorn. 

You didn’t push yourself into his side like you normally would and you didn’t know if that disappointed him or not, but when he dropped you off home later that night, the sky was a dark, rosy pink, the lingering smell of rain in the air and he smacked a messy kiss to your cheek before you climbed out of his car. 

It was fine. Until it wasn’t. 

Steve started dating again, one girl, two girls, three girls. Lucy on Saturday, Matthew David’s cousin Paula the next Friday, Cindy from last year's cheer squad the week after. 

You didn’t ask about it and he didn’t tell you, just poking an affectionate finger to the apple of your cheek when he told you he’d see you the next day. You were his best friend, again, still, only. 

It was fine until one Friday shift, when you disappeared into the back room a little earlier than the store closed. You came back out in a new dress, short and pretty, with blush on your cheeks and a gloss on your lips. Robin had wolf whistled, Steve had frowned. 

“Where are you going?”

His tone of voice cut you in half, accusatory and a little shocked. Steve leaned over the counter, a finger picking delicately at a lock of hair that you’d spent too long trying to get to sit nicely. 

“A date,” you told him, voice soft, gaze lowered as you tried to cram lip gloss tubes and perfume bottles into your bag. 

“With who?” Was the instantaneous response, that same tone of voice. 

You saw Robin’s gaze flitting between the pair of you, not privy to the events that took place a month prior, but not for a lack of trying. The girl was perfectly aware that something happened. She just didn’t know what and neither your or Steve had told her anything. 

“Nate Owens,” you told him and god, why was it so hard to meet his eye? “You know, he was on the team with you.”

Steve pulled his brows together, bewildered at your answer. “Yeah, I know him, why the fuck are you going on a date with Owens?”

You heard Robin’s sharp intake of breath and she watched as you squinted at the boy, annoyance on your features. Knowing what was to come, she grabbed the last of the returns and made her way to the other side of the empty store, leaving you two alone.

“What?” You huffed out, exasperated already. Your stomach was tumbling and you hated the way you didn’t know why. Maybe it was first date jitters, maybe it was the way Steve was looking at you, maybe it was because you knew you had absolutely no interest in dating anyone that wasn’t your bet fucking friend. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Steve grappled for something to say, stuttering over excuses until he tutted and grabbed the stapler, carelessly turning it over in his hands as he told you, “you’ve got nothing in common with him, like, at all.”

You scoffed, pulling at the hem of your dress and smoothing out imaginary creases, you were annoyed, something burning and twisting inside of you. “Sure Harrington, I forgot you choose all your dates based on compatibility and shared goals for the future.”

“He’s a douchebag,” Steve tried again, “he’s only after one thing.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I am too,” you said loftily and you didn’t look for Steve’s reaction, you didn’t want to. You moved from behind the counter, leaving a cloud of perfume in your wake and headed for the door. “Robs, I’ll call you later, ‘kay?”

Before the girl could answer, Steve was tailing you, moving across the store with that stupid stapler still in his hand and he called out your name, making you stop and turn.

“He’s just gonna hurt you,” the boy explained and you hated how his voice had turned a little softer. “You can do so much better than him.”

“Yeah?” You turned fully, chin raised and shoulders set as you locked eyes with Steve. “Who should I date then, Steve? Who’s good enough?”

The air felt electric, fully charged as the boy stared back, lips parting, chest barely moving as if he was holding his breath. If Robin was still there, you didn’t know, your mind only registering the way the boy was still silent in front of you. 

“That’s what I thought,” you eventually muttered, hot tears threatening to prick at the corner of your eyes. “Don’t wait sixteen years to start taking an interest in my love life Harrington, I’ve got by just fine without your advice.”

You’d opened the door by the time Steve replied, voice hot and clipped with anger and something else, a tone you’d never heard him use with you before. “Yeah, well, don’t come fucking crying to me when he turns out to be a dick.”

You laughed humorlessly, your back turned to him as you faced the night outside, the cool air nipping at the heat on your cheeks. You wanted to go home, to chance a look at Robin and silently ask her to clamber into bed with you, if she’d let you cry onto her shoulder as you ate pizza and watched reruns of Charlie’s Angels.

There was also a part of you that wanted to turn to Steve, glassy eyed and confused, to ask why it suddenly felt like you were fighting for the first time since middle school. 

But you didn’t.

You walked out into the night and let the door slam shut behind you. 

If you’d hung around, you would’ve heard Robin slam down the copy of Stand By Me that she was holding, eyes a little angry and disappointed as she looked at the boy and said: “You’re a fucking idiot.”

‘Yeah,’ Steve thought, ‘he knew he was.’

----------

You hated that Steve was right, you hated that Nate Owens was a pig, you hated that he did nothing but look at your chest over the dinner table, you hated that he tried to lean in for a kiss the minute you both got back into his car, you hated that he got pissy with you when you didn’t let him push his hand up your dress, you hated that he told you to put out or get out.

You hated that he left you on the side of the road, a little out of town, at a restaurant that you didn’t really know, dinner paid for with his daddy’s money.

You hated that when you finally found a payphone at the side of a dark gas station, you punched in Steve’s number. You hated that you started to cry when you heard his voice, you hated that he told you was coming to get you. 

Steve found you easily despite your awful directions, and when he asked if you were okay, voice quiet and gentle, you choked out a little sob, feeling pathetic and Steve told you to stay put, that he would be there as fast as he could.

He definitely broke some laws to get to you, flashing through amber lights faster than he was supposed to and when he pulled into the station only twenty minutes later, his heart ached at the way you leaned against the brick wall, half in shadows with your arms wrapped around you, the slight wind picking at the hem of you dress, lifting it from you thighs.

Steve got out of the car before you could move, pushing yourself off of the wall and he hated that your eyes were glassy, that you seemed embarrassed. You let him tug one of his sweatshirts over your head, one he specifically grabbed for you before rushing out of his door, ‘cause he watched you leave work without a jacket and if he’d been in a better mood when you were going on your date - if you’d have been going on a date with him - he would’ve teased you about being cold later.

Steve opened the passenger door, waiting for you to fold yourself into the front of his car and when he got back in, the only light coming from the old neon sign that was flashing red, telling customers that the store was open. 

He wrapped his hands around the steering wheel, squeezing it until his knuckles turned white and he glanced at you, expression almost unreadable.

“Did he hurt you?” he asked.

“No,” you shook your head, and it was true. You’d thrown an elbow into the Nate’s chest when he tried to push you too far, too fast, the sharp point of your arm catching him just below his throat and he’d turned on you, telling you to get the fuck out. “The only thing hurt is my pride, but I guess that’s on me, huh?”

Steve sighed at that, turning fully in his seat so he could face you, his hand coming up to press into your cheek, his thumb running gently under your eye, catching the tears there before they fell.

“Sweetheart-” Steve started, but you were overwhelmingly emotional, everything from the night and Nate and Steve suddenly becoming too much and god, you just wanted to yell with it. 

“What? Is this the part where you say I told you so?” You tried to sound biting, but the words hitched in your throat, fresh tears springing to your eyes. “Why’re you even here Steve?”

You knew why. 

“Cause you asked me,” he answered, simply and that was all there was to it, wasn’t there? “And I’m not gonna tell you shit, I’m… I’m sorry I acted like that early, I dunno what was wrong with me.”

You wanted to press further, you wanted to ask him if he truly didn’t know the reason he acted like an asshole. You wanted to ask if he was jealous, if he wanted you the way you wanted him, if he missed you, if he thought about you when he went on all these dates, if he wanted to kiss you again, if he thought about it all the time, the same way that you did. 

But Steve was still talking, fingers slipping from your face to pick at a stand of hair, playing with the end of it absentmindedly. The car felt too small, too warm and too dark, and you were sure that the last time you were both this close, you’d been in Steve's bed, wrapped around him as he made you come. 

“He didn’t deserve even an hour of your time,” he told you, brows knitted together in a frown. “And you deserve better than Nate fucking Owens, you’re too good for him,” he repeated his statement from earlier and it made you chest ache, your tummy tumble over because god, you wanted to be brave.

“Who’s good enough then, Steve?” You breathed it out, voice almost a whisper because you were so close to losing it, to grabbing the boy by his face and telling him how you felt, how’d fallen in love with him fuck knows how many years ago and you’d only recently let yourself believe it.

He started, wide eyed, lips parted and waiting, the same reaction he’d had back at Family Video. But you didn’t walk away this time, you let out a huff of laughter, no humour in it as you sat back in the seat and started out of the windscreen. The gas station was deserted, the night creeping into a new day, the clock ticking closer to midnight and the light was still flickering. 

It painted you both crimson, eyes brighter than they should’ve been, cheeks rosy. You pushed a foot to the dash, dress slipping up your thigh and gathering in the crease of your leg, showing off way too much skin but you didn’t care.

“I grew up with all the other guys in our grade knowing that I was Steve Harrington’s best friend,” you told him, voice hushed and cracking, “all of them too scared to touch me ‘cause your stupid ten year old ass always threatened to beat them up.”

He was still staring, lip twitching as if he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to laugh or not because it was true. But then he watched a tear slip down your cheek and it caught the light, a flash of ruby before it got caught on your top lip and you licked it away.

“Then in high school, I was a challenge, ‘cause I was still Steve Harrington’s best fucking friend. Boy’s would either be terrified to talk to me or treat me like the best prize they could win. They thought I was off limits, some thought I was your girlfriend and god, Steve, fuck…”

You swallowed, hard, breath catching in your chest and the car was so silent, the boy watching, listening. 

“I never thought that I wanted that, to be anything more than your friend. I didn’t,” you tried to sound convincing, but even to your own ears, your protests sounded weak. “But then you kissed me.”

You looked at him from under your lashes, hands twisted nervously in your lap, his sweater fisted between your fingers and you hated the way it smelled like him, like mint and cedar and smoke and suddenly, it was all too much.

“I know I asked you to,” you blurted out, eyes brimming with tears again, spilling over the line of your lashes and suddenly, you didn’t care about what you said anymore. “But fuck! Robin said that you never say no to me, that you’d do anything for me and god, I just wanted it once, I didn’t know it would go that far that night… I don’t regret it,” you rambled, words falling clumsily over the next and you chanced a look at him, his eyes full of shock but there was a softness behind it, familiar and fond. “I don’t regret it at all, I just-”

You sucked in a breath, let your head fall back onto the rest and let your eyes fall closed before you admitted another secret.

“I just can’t stop thinking about it.”

You kept your eyes closed as you kept talking, the words, the confessions, falling so much easier now that you’d started. The dark made you feel a little bolder, the silence of the boy encouraging you to just keep spilling your heart out, no interruptions.

“I thought that maybe you would feel the same, that you’d say something first, ‘cause you’ve always been braver but then you started dating that girl, then the other one. And maybe I was just stupid, maybe I was wrong,” you sighed, gazing to the side to catch Steve’s eye, a warmth blooming over your entire body, embarrassment, adrenaline and the feeling that you were throwing yourself off a cliff surging over you. “But there was a part of me that thought you’d maybe figure out you loved me too.”

You didn’t know what you expected, really. There was such a large part of you that still believed you were only going to ever be friends, that if Steve wanted more, he would've told you by now. That part told you you were imagining things, that sleeping together was nothing more than an experiment, a product of being high and bored with your best friend. It told you to ignore the way you thought he looked at you, the way that sometimes, you were so sure his touch lingered for longer than it needed to. 

But then there was a voice in the back of your head, a shit, it sounded a little like Robin’s and it told you that the boy before you would do anything for you, anything you asked. And wasn’t that why he was here now? It told you that friends didn’t look at each other like that, that friends didn’t have to untangle themselves from each other's arms each morning, that friends didn’t kiss like you had both done. 

Steve whispered your name then, a hand reaching out to catch yours. 

“You know I love you,” he whispered, voice a little shocked, a little awed. He sounded broken too, like he didn’t know what he was supposed to say, like he was terrified of saying the wrong thing. “I’ve always loved you, you’re my best friend.”

Your heart fell. 

“I- I don’t wanna lose you,” Steve said and he was rambling, falling over his words as his eyes searched your face for something he wasn’t going to find. The softness you’d held in your features was gone. “Babe, you’re my best friend, I can’t lose you-”

“Don’t call me that,” you choked out, your heart racing, your stomach twisting. You thought you might be sick. “Fuck, shit, take me home.”

You pulled your hand away from where the boy held it, your demand sounding harsh and too loud in the quiet of the car. You couldn’t look at him. The red light was still flashing, flickering and it suddenly felt like it was splitting your head in two, like it was pulsing to the same beat as your heart. 

Steve said your name again, pleading, his hand on your arm, silently begging you to turn, to look at him. 

“Can you let me explain? Please, god, I didn’t mean it like that, you have to understand-”

“Take me home, Steve, please.”

But he ignored you, tugging the keys out of the ignition and leaning forward, a hand tilting at your chin to try and a catch your gaze but your cheeks felt too hot and the burn at your eyes told you that you were going to start crying again and all you could think about was the list of boys who were too scared to make you theirs, too happy with a quick fuck in the back of their shitty cars and you never used to care because you were only ever happy with one boy. 

You knew you should’ve let him talk, that you owed him his chance to speak but the burning sensation of embarrassment and rejection was creeping up your spine like poison and you hated it, you couldn’t stand it. 

You panicked. 

You pulled at the door handle, fingers clumsy as you pushed the door open, clambering out with Steve’s sweater still swamping your frame and you could hear the boy calling your name even after you slammed the door shut. 

You made a start for the alleyway behind the gas station, somewhere the car couldn’t follow and by the time you made it a few streets over, you realised Steve wasn’t coming for you anyway. 

You got halfway home before the rain started falling, a pathetic spit that misted into the air and soaked you through. It made your hair stick to your cheeks, Steve’s sweater damp and hanging heavy on your body and by the time you reached home, it didn’t smell like him anymore. 

Good, you thought. 

Because when you were eight years old, Steve Harrington was the first big to tell you he loved you and then he promised you three things:

One, he’d always be your best friend. Two, he’d always protect you from everything bad and scary. And three, he’d never break your heart. 

It took almost twelve years, but shit, the boy finally broke one of them. 

Take me out, and take me home. 

It took Steve twelve years to break his promise to you, but only four days to fix it. 

Which was impressive really, when he spent the first three days agonising over what to say to you. You’d been avoiding him like the plague, worse than the plague, quite frankly. 

He expected you at work the next day, chest sore from holding his breath as he watched the door, eyes tired from staying up all night.

 He’d stayed in that gas station parking lot for too long after you’d left, eyes wide as he watched you leave, disappearing behind the alleyway almost instantly. 

Steve had slammed his hands on the dash, overwhelmed with everything you’d said, admitted to him, with glassy eyes and he fucking hated how he’d made your bottom lip tremble, your breath hitch and stutter as you tried not to cry. 

He’d panicked. 

And you’d left. 

He’d driven home slowly, trying to catch sight of you on the sidewalks that led home, rolling down the streets that looked unfamiliar to see if you were there, trying to find shortcuts. When the rain had started, he’d cursed, no sight of you anywhere and by the time he’d pulled up outside your house, he was relieved to see your bedroom light on, a sign you’d made it home safely. 

He wanted to knock on the door, to climb into your bedroom window and try to make you smile again, to stop you crying because he couldn’t fucking stand it when you cried, especially because of him. 

But the window was shut, a rare sight and he knew it was a hint, a very obvious clue for him to stay the fuck away. He watched your light flicker off, the house bathed in darkness and he’d sat, pushing the heels of his hands to his eyes and cursing himself. 

He should’ve told you, he shouldn’t have been so fucking scared. 

You didn’t show up at work and when he asked Robin if she’d heard from you, the girl had told him that you were sick, had called in early and spoke to Keith. 

“She’s put in a line for the entire week, actually, said it’s a bad bug,” Robin had told him knowingly. “Whatever you’ve done, Harrington, I suggest you fix it.”

Steve didn’t ask how Robin knew, didn’t press her for any more details, ‘cause he knew her too well, knew she wouldn’t tell him shit so he just slammed a video he was supposed to be rewinding on the desk, and sighed, heavy and tired. 

“I know.”

You didn’t answer his calls. With your parents visiting family out of town, there was no one in the house but you and you made a point of refusing to pick up the phone at all. 

Robin would visit, not bothering to knock as she slipped into your house, huffing and humming to herself as she climbed your stairs, barging into your room unannounced. 

She set a careful gaze on you, a lump underneath the duvet, as she dumped your favourite snacks at the foot of your bed. 

“You’re not sick, are you?” You hated how it didn’t even sound like a question, just an accusation. “You wanna tell me what happened?”

And you did, you told her everything from the joint, to your kiss, the entire night. You told her about Nate, about your confession, about the way Steve looked at you when you told him that you thought he loved you too. 

Robin listened, curled up by your pillows beside you, your head on her shoulder and her cheek resting on yours, a bag of Reece’s Pieces between you both. 

“I know that this probably isn’t what you wanna hear right now,” the girl began, patting your hand with her own, “you know, with you being all heart broken and what not.”

You huffed. 

“But I don’t believe for a second that Steve doesn’t love you, that he isn’t in love with you.”

“Robin, please,” you groaned, shoving your face into her arm, because she was right, you didn’t wanna hear it. You’d spent too long trying to convince yourself that she was right, Steve was in love with you, only to blurt out your feelings for him and have him look at you, sheer panic on his face, in return. 

She sighed, knowing it was useless trying to make you see her side of things, so she pushed her nose to your temple, blew a raspberry to the side of your head and stole another Reece’s Piece. 

“Have you spoken to him?” She asked, voice unusually quiet. 

You shook your head. 

“Have you let him try?” The girl said knowingly. 

You shook your head again. 

Another huff, a somewhat affectionate butt of her head to yours and then she turned, shuffling against the pillows until you were face to face. 

“He’s really broken up about this,” she told you and her words made you wanna cry again. “You need to let him explain.”

You sniffed, eyes watering and despite the ache that still lived in your chest, you nodded. 

“‘Cause I don’t think you said things right, y’know?” Robin squinted at you, trying to make sense of what you’d told her Steve had said that night. “He’s a guy, shit, he’s Steve. Communication isn’t his strong point.”

“I don’t know what’s more clearer than ‘you’re my best friend, I can’t lose you’. Idiot or not, he made it pretty obvious that we’re never gonna be anything more.”

The movie that you had both hardly been watching was over, the screen fading to black and the credits rolling. A love song started to play, soppy and too cheery and you grunted, searching for the remote between the sheets before angrily pressing the off button. Silence fell over you and Robin snorted, flinging herself over your lap and looking up at you with a small smile. 

She pressed a finger to the tip of your nose and you scowled. 

“Ever think that maybe he’s just scared?”

Your frown deepened and you stared down at your friend, lips parted at the absurdity of her question. 

“What?” You scoffed. “I’ve watched him take down a demogorgon with a baseball bat, Robin, the boy isn’t scared of much anymore-”

“He also got his heart broken by the first girl he told he loved,” Robin interrupted. “He dates girls that he isn’t really interested in, that are the complete opposite of you. His folks are never around, he’s made his own family out of his friends.”

You swallowed, throat suddenly feeling thick, your chest tight. 

“You're probably the most constant thing in his life, y’know,” she mused, voice unbearably soft. The girl brought a hand up to tuck a stand of your hair behind your ear, the gesture fond. “He’s always had you, maybe he’s just scared to fuck things up and lose you.”

You couldn’t say anything. You didn't want to. ‘Cause that stupid burn was scratching at your eyes again, at the back of your throat and you were so done with crying, you were so over pushing your face into your pillow to dry your face.

Robin sat up suddenly, stretching and bending down to pull on her shoes. She popped another piece of chocolate in her mouth before smacking a kiss to your cheek and you were still silent, bundled up between pillows and blankets in bed. 

“Talk to him, babe,” she told you, heading for the door without any other goodbye, “ I’m sure he’s got a lot to say.”

Fuck. 

You picked and put down your phone six times before you decided to pull on your shoes and start walking. It didn’t take long to walk from yours to the Harrington’s, but you moved at a snail's pace, playing tightrope along the edge of the sidewalk before you stopped at the corner of Steve’s street, heart suddenly ready to burst from your chest. The sun started to set as you waited, hesitating. The sky turned from blue to lilac, tangerine and peach and the air became still. 

You walked up his front path, hand raised, ready to knock. 

It was a sparkler between your ribs kinda feeling, jump off a cliff kind of feeling, take a shot of tequila kind of feeling, risk fucking everything kind of feeling. 

You’d walked away from the boy, his words stuck in his throat, your name dying on his lips and now you were ready to make it up to him. ‘Cause Steve was right, whatever either of you felt, you couldn’t lose him either. 

The idea of rejection hurt, but not having Steve Harrington in your life hurt even more. 

So you knocked. 

Once, twice, three times, but no one answered. His car was in the drive, no parents to be seen and you took a deep breath before you plucked up the courage to open the door like you normally could. 

Your footsteps echoed in the large hallway and the only sound you could hear came from the backyard, the tinny sound of music playing from outside. You found him there, spread out lazy by the edge of the pool, shirt off, one leg dipped into the water and his hair messy from swimming and the leftover heat from the day. 

 Shadows from the tree branches above fell over him, cutting through the gold light, streaks of pink and rose painting his skin pretty and you stood for just a second, watching through the open patio doors. 

You tugged anxiously at the tagged hem of your shorts, the T-shirt you’d tucked into it suddenly feeling too constricting and you wanted to pull at the collar, you wanted to take off running again, because the sight of him hurt. 

Before you could step out into the last patch of sun, Steve sat up, muscles flexing, pool water swirling and he froze, lips parted and staring at you. 

It had only been four days since you’d last seen him, but it felt like far too much time had passed. You hadn’t gone that long without him in years, not since your parents told you that they were taking you to Utah to spend a summer with your grandparents. They’d cut the trip short by two weeks, aggravated and done with their fifteen year old daughter who didn’t shut up about how much she kissed her best friend. 

Yearly trips to the lake house with the Harrington’s resumed the summer after that. 

The boy whispered your name as if he’d scare you off and he sounded tired, sounded a little broken, just like Robin had said. 

You lifted your hand in an awkward wave, stepping out into the yard and into the streak of sun that stretched across the patio. It warmed you, skin lit up, a golden glow slanting over both of you and even from where you stood, Steve’s eyes looked like honey. 

“Hey.”

He stood, a hand raking through his still damp hair, making it even messier than usual and he mimicked you, hand raised, wingers waggling shyly, as if you hadn’t known each other for seventeen years. 

“I was just coming to see you,” Steve admitted and he sounded as nervous as you felt. “I tried calling you. A lot.”

You nodded, feeling guilty and it burned at your chest. “I know, I’m sorry.”

Steve nodded, bare foot scuffling against the slabs and you wanted to crawl back into your bed, already feeling defeated. It wasn’t supposed to feel like this with Steve. 

“I was gonna come round, you know,” Steve started again, gesturing to you, he looked lost, a little helpless. “Before now I mean… I just- I didn’t wanna upset you and you didn’t answer the phone so I just,” he shrugged, looking at the pool instead of you. “I didn’t wanna upset you any more.”

Almost silence; the trickle of the pool filter, the buzz of insects, the sway of the wind in the tree branches. 

And then, “I’ve missed you,” Steve said, voice softer than before. “A lot.”

You let out the breath you didn’t know you’d been holding then, feet moving forward and you let yourself fall into one of the loungers, a space beside the pool that was so overly familiar. 

You looked at the boy then, and god, he was the last cherry popsicle, he was sunshine, he was summer, he was full of promises and all your secrets, he was late nights and early mornings, first crushes and last kisses. 

“I’ve missed you too,” you told him, voice hurting with sincerity. 

It seemed to be all the boy needed to surge into action, because he relaxed at your admission, moving to the other lounger so he could sit across from you, bare knees almost bumping and he was leaning forward, invading your senses and he smelled like chlorine and sunscreen, mint and cedar and boy and summer and Steve. 

“Why’d you leave?”

“I’m sorry,” you told him, eyes suddenly filling with tears because you were so embarrassed by it all. From your outburst to your storming away, leaving the boy sitting confused after he’d come to get you. “I just- I couldn’t sit there and handle the rejection, I never should have said anything, it was so stupid of me-”

You were stopped by his hand reaching out and covering your own, that familiar warmth of his fingers twisting between yours, a wide, rough palm, calloused on your own. 

You looked at him, cheeks warm with your ramblings and he sighed, affection radiating from him as he gazed at you. He didn’t look confused this time, or panicked. Maybe a little bit scared but there was something else there and it shone a little brighter. 

“Sweetheart, I never once tried to reject you,” Steve huffed out a soft laugh, “shit, I don’t think I could if my life depended on it.”  

“What?” You froze, brows knitting together as you replayed the same conversation you both had in the car and you shook your head, confused. “You literally told me I was your best friend, Steve, that you couldn’t lose me.”

“And that’s true!” He burst out, “you just never let me finish!”

He sighed, using his free hand to scrub over his face and he took a deep breath before he faced you again. 

“I panicked.” He said it so simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “I’m so sorry babe but I fuckin’ panicked. You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to hear those words from you, you can’t even fucking imagine how long. I just didn’t wanna mess it up, I couldn’t. I couldn’t risk not having you.” 

A sound of surprise left your lips at his words and you wanted to laugh at the irony of them, ‘cause yes, yes could imagine. But you kept quiet, letting the boy speak, making up for how you didn’t last time. You squeezed his hand instead, hoping it was reassuring enough. 

You watched him lick his lips as he thought about his next words and your brows rose when he suddenly moved, kneeling in front of you and tapping at your knee, silently asking for you to spread your legs and let him in. You did, almost embarrassed by the lack of hesitation on your par but Steve moved into the space tour created for him, suddenly too close. 

You exhaled a little slower, could count the new freckles on his nose, could see the small scar that cut through his brow, the one you gave him when you were seven and pillow fights got too boisterous. 

He smoothed his hands up and down your thighs, a touch that brought comfort and he took another deep breath, readying himself for what he wanted to tell you. 

“I’ve been in love with you since we were sixteen,” he said slowly, each word dropping like an atom bomb and you wondered if the earth was shaking. “Maybe longer, I was probably too stupid to work it out before then.”

You let out a disbelieving laugh and Steve grinned at the sound. 

“It took me a little while,” he admitted, gaze lowering as if he were suddenly shy, “I didn’t know the difference between loving you and being in love with you. You’ve been in my life for as long as I can remember.”

His fingers found the frayed hem of your shorts, twisting the strands between his fingers absentmindedly. 

“I remember Nancy telling me that, uh,” he cleared his throat, words catching on his lips with nerves and hesitation, “she uh, told me that I didn’t love her like I thought I did. That I was in love with someone else.”

You inhaled sharply, remembering the girl telling you something similar that day on the bench. You’d been confused and a little irritated at her, defensive maybe, now that you looked back on it. You remembered the way she twisted her lips to hide a grin that she didn’t want to annoy you with, eyes all too knowing. 

“I kinda realised then,” Steve nodded, eyes finding yours from under his lashes and god, you wondered when his face had moved so close to yours. “She was totally right, I just didn’t really wanna admit it.”

“Why not?” You asked, voice a little sad, ‘cause that had been years ago, and you felt overlooked, like so many missed opportunities had passed you both by and god, were the two of you really that stupid?

“I was stupid!” Steve burst out and you laughed, a little sad with watery eyes but shit, you were too. “So I kept dating random girls, anyone, really. Tried to take my mind off you, tried to forget about you in my bed.”

God, the memory made you burn. 

“I didn’t know what to do,” he whispered, still leaning into you, eyes closed like he was at confession. “Asking you out on a date seemed so ridiculous when I already know you better than anyone else.”

Your nose grazed Steve’s, and you let out a small sigh because as much as you were hurt by it all, you understood. You and Steve had seen every movie there was to see, had taken trips out of town to every concert, spent too many evenings at burger joints and ice cream parlours. You probably wouldn’t have guessed you were on a date with the boy unless he was in a tux and there was a chandelier above you. 

And that seemed like a big ask. 

“I would’ve loved to go on a date with you,” you said anyway, cause the idea of Steve pulling up outside your door with flowers in his hand gave you butterflies, tugging at your heart in a way that made you warm. 

“Yeah?” He smiled, blinding and it only widened when you nodded. 

He moved impossibly closer still, cheek to cheek so he could find your ear with his lips, hands moving to your thighs, thumbs rubbing circles on the inside. 

“I spent so long tryin’ to work up the courage to ask you to be my girlfriend,” his admission sounded like his biggest secret yet and you held your breath as he whispered it to you. “So long that years passed and we got older and suddenly the word ‘girlfriend’ didn’t seem enough.”

It was strange, but you knew what Steve meant. The word seemed too arbitrary, too normal, to describe the relationship you had with each other, how you felt about the other. 

“I know,” you told him, voice just as soft and quiet as his. “I’d still like to be yours though.”

His grin was contagious, warmer than the sun that was starting to set, brighter than the rays on the pool and you swore the world was spinning a little faster in excitement, as if the planets and the moon were just as happy as you were. 

“Yeah?” He asked, low and rough, nose pressing to your cheek, lips just brushing yours. 

You nodded, eyes fluttering closed, waiting, wanting.  

“Can we always be this close?” Steve asked, and you melted a little at the question, at that soft sincerity he always managed to give you. 

“Yeah, god, please,” you answered and your voice sounded a little husky, a little pleading because you couldn’t imagine anything else. “Can you kiss me, now?”

The boy swore under his breath, the curse mixing with a huff of laughter and he smiled against you, mouth pressing happy to your cheek and you beamed at him, lashes tickling his skin, both of you warm against the other. 

“Could never really figure out how to say no to you, y’know that?” He whispered, as if he was giving away a secret. Steve let his lips hover over yours, his hands wrapping around the small of your back, fingers playing with your belt loops, pulling you flush with him. Your hands smoothed over his bare chest and around his neck, skin hot with the sun, with being near you. 

“Can I take you on a date?” 

Something bloomed inside of you, wildflowers between your ribs, a new day of summer, a heatwave in your chest. 

“If I say yes, will you kiss me?” you asked, a little bratty, a little teasing. You’d waited so long for both, you didn’t know what you wanted first.

But then Steve was pushing into you, lips pressing down onto your own, his hand along the underside of your jaw as he used his thumb to push a little under your chin, tilting you up to his mouth so he could lick into you, adoration pouring into you. You felt the way he loved you, like the way everyone else saw it. It still felt new, his lips on yours, new in an exciting way, new in a ‘god, I could get used to this’ way.

“Lemme take you on a date,” he said again, a smile on his lips, pressing it to yours and his voice was sunshine but rougher, even warmer and it made you smile that cheek hurting kinda smile.

You nodded. 

“You still my best friend, Harrington?” 

Steve pulled back to look at you, eyes shining. “That and more, sweetheart.” And when he said that, it felt enough. ‘More’.

“You still gonna protect me from everything bad and scary?” You nudged the tip of your nose to his, voice sweet. 

“With everything I have in me,” he answered honestly, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth, catching your laughter. “Baseball bat and all.”

“Promise you won’t break my heart?” You asked, forehead to his, eyes full of every emotion you felt. Love, excitement, fear, hope, nervousness, adoration. 

“Promise you won’t break mine?” Steve whispered back, a hand on your cheek, thumb grazing over your lip. 

“I promise,” you told him, hands gripping right at his shoulders, running across the nape of his neck, diving into his hair. 

“I promise,” he repeated, and shit, you believed him. 

-----

Especially during the summer. Kids, teenagers and adults alike all bustling around Family Video in search for something specific. He’d deal with it all. The sweet elderly women that stood talking to him for too long because he was just too lovely, the group of kids who’d linger for way too long and completely ignore his shooing them away. 

And after work would almost always entail driving straight from work to wherever he was needed. Sometimes it would just be picking up Dustin and Lucas, dropping them home safely from Will’s house. Or Robin’s house for movie night, bringing along whatever tape he’d swiped that afternoon.

It was something that was very frowned upon, but all the employees did. Sneak the odd tape or two in their bag, watch it that night and return it on their next shift like it had never been missing in the first place. 

Well, all the employees except for you. You wouldn’t say that you were Family Video’s star employee, but if somebody else said that – you wouldn’t deny it. 

You were always early to every shift, your uniform always perfectly tidy and straightened. You never took too long on your break, you’d even sometimes head back onto the shop floor a few minutes earlier if you could hear the herds of people from the breakroom. You’d always pick up any extra shifts, or cover anybody if they needed to. 

And you never, ever swiped any tapes. And everybody knew that. 

On this surprisingly quiet Thursday evening, Steve was finally clocking out to take his break. He’d packed himself a peanut butter sandwich this morning, along with a bag of chips that had gotten slightly crushed from his trip from his car this morning. 

“I’m gonna take my thirty now, will you be alright out here on your own?” You heard Steve ask from behind you. You stood at the front counter, restocking the rows of candy that was kept at the front of the store. 

Your hands paused on a bar of Snickers, you turned to glance over your shoulder to see Steve leaning against the counter behind you with his arms crossed, twirling his little brown paper bag between his fingers. 

A small laugh escaping your lips as you looked across the shop floor, eyes focusing on two young girls browsing in one of the aisles. “I think I can handle it. Go put your feet up, enjoy your break.” 

Steve huffed a laugh, nodding at you before tightening his grip on his sacked lunch. He turned on his feet and made his way to the back of the store, pushing the door open with his elbow as he sauntered through. 

The break room was on the smaller side. A table in the middle of the room with a few mismatched chairs, a countertop lining the side of the room where the employees would keep their bags despite the hooks hanging just above it. 

There was a small pile of magazines that laid on the counter, different genres that people would bring to work and then discard for others to read after. As Steve passed them, he grabbed the one on the top to keep his mind occupied whilst he ate. 

Spin. Hm, not his first choice, but it’ll do. One hand held his flattened sandwich to his mouth whilst the other flicked through the pages, his eyes reading over an article about Prince. 

His eyes flickered to the clock that sat above the door, reading seven thirty. He huffed out a sigh, flicking the magazine that he’d read back to front closed and pushed himself from his chair. He shoved his empty packet of chips into the brown paper bag, and tossed it into the trashcan underneath the counter. 

As Steve was mentally preparing himself to return to work for the next two and a half hours, he dropped the magazine onto the stack with the others as he passed it, but something caught his eye. 

Right next to the pile, was a brown leather handbag that was slightly scuffed with wear, a red ribbon tied around one of the handles. He knew that it was yours, he’d seen you wear it hundreds of times. But something that he hadn’t seen before was the tape that was poking out of it. 

He took a step closer, his eyes squinting as he leant down, not wanting to touch your bag but couldn’t ignore his interest. His fingers wrapped around the corner of the tape, slowly pulling it out to reveal Pretty Peaches 2, an orange cover with a woman clad in black lingerie. 

“What the–” He mumbled to himself, his eyebrows knitting together as he turned the tape over to read the back. He swallowed down the lump in his throat, clearing it as he carefully slipped the tape back into place where he’d found it. 

Steve wiped the corner of the tape as if to wash away his fingerprints, and quickly scurried out of the breakroom. He adjusted his vest as he looked over the rest of the store, the two girls who’d been in earlier had now left, just leaving you at the front of the store still organising the candy.  

He felt his mouth go dry once his eyes landed on you, his tongue slipping past his lips to swipe across his lower lip as he attempted to steady himself. He didn’t know what was more puzzling, the fact that you were keeping porn in your bag or the fact that you’d actually swiped a tape. 

You glanced up as you felt Steve making his way over to you, flashing him a wide smile as you placed a packet of Reece’s Pieces on the stand. “Nice break?” 

The softness of your voice hit his ears like honey, he flashed you a tight smile as he leant against the counter in front of you. His arms slipped across his chest, as if a shield of armour to protect himself from this secret he was now hiding. “Yeah, was great.” 

You’d known Steve for a while now, from working together here. You’d been a friend of Robin’s in high school, of course you knew of Steve but he was never somebody whose circle you ran in. Robin had got you a job here shortly after the two of them started working here, and you slotted perfectly right into their little group. 

When you weren’t at work, you were hanging out with your boyfriend, Trevor. But after your break up two months ago, you were now spending your time with Robin and Steve. You’d gotten to know Steve quite well, he was a charismatic and caring friend who carried himself with a lot of confidence. He was really funny, always making you laugh even when you were feeling down about your breakup. You’d also, obviously, noticed that he was absolutely drop-dead gorgeous. 

He watched as your eyes glanced over him, taking in his quietened demeanor. He’d usually jump at the opportunity of a quiet store to spiel about a stupid story that you’d heard a million times but always made you laugh anyway, just to hear it. 

“You alright?” You pressed gently, grabbing the empty box that was holding all of the new candy and rounded to the other side of the counter to push it beneath it, making a mental note to take it out the back with you when you leave. 

“Me? Yeah, I’m fine.” He practically laughed out with disbelief, one of his hands coming up to scratch at the nape of his neck before lowering it back to cross his chest. 

Your eyebrows furrowed gently, but ultimately decided not to press it any further. You just got on with your closing tasks for the day, the clock ticking and ticking on until it finally hit ten o’clock. 

“Do you want a ride home?” Steve asked, leaping forward to grab the empty box from you as you made your way to the break room to grab your stuff. 

“Oh, that’d be great. Thanks, Steve,” You flashed him a smile as you let him take the box from you, tilting your head toward the breakroom before stepping toward it. “Let me grab my stuff, I’ll be just a minute.”

He nodded gently as he watched you disappear through the door, exhaling the breath that he didn’t even know he was holding in. It seemed like forever that he was hearing you shuffling about in there, he even thought he heard you talking to yourself until you finally swung the door open and stepped out. 

“Ready to go?” He spoke as he adjusted the box under his arm, twisting his car keys around his finger before closing them in his palm. 

“Ready.” You gave him a small nod, crossing the store to flick off the lightswitch before walking the two of you to the back door. Steve thanked you as you held it open for him, jogging over to the large recycling bin to chuck the box into. 

You locked up the back door, making your way over to Steve’s car. He was quick to catch up to you, making sure to open the passenger door for you like always. You thanked him as you slipped inside, pulling your seatbelt on as he rounded the car. 

Steve’s door shut behind him as he settled into his seat, twisting the key in the car as he glanced over at you. Your bag sat close to you on your lap, your fingers holding it as if someone was going to pry the door open and swipe it from your hands. 

“So, you got any plans for tonight?” Steve asked softly, turning over his shoulder to check his mirrors as he pulled out of the empty car park, his attention turning to you as his hand put the car into gear. 

“Uh,” You took your lower lip between your teeth as you thought, trying to think of an excuse. You obviously weren’t going to tell Steve about the tape in your bag, and what you were actually going to do tonight. “Probably just watch a movie or something.”

Steve nodded at your words, his eyes focused on the dark night ahead of him. “Any movie in particular?” He glanced over at you, without thinking his eyes dropped to your bag beneath your tight grip. 

When his eyes met yours again, your lips parted slightly and your expression turned into something like a deer caught in headlights. Steve cleared his throat, turning his attention back in front of him as you shuffled in your seat. 

“You saw it?” Your voice left as a whisper, you could feel the heat rising to your skin. Your chest tightening as you kept your eyes on Steve, your grip loosening on your bag as you let out a small sigh. 

“I didn’t mean to. I wasn’t looking through your stuff or anything, God– I’m not a creep,” He laughed awkwardly, clearing his throat before continuing. “I was just putting one of the magazines back and your bag was open, I swear I–” When he finally looked over at you, your hand was covering your face. 

“Fuck. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything. I just– I was surprised, didn’t peg you for the porn type.” His voice mumbled the last few words, catching your glare as your hands dropped to the bag on your lap. 

“It’s fine, Steve,” You finally said with a shrug of your shoulder, your fingers pulling the zipper open and wrapping around the tape. “I’m not the porn type, to be honest.”

“No? Well, I’d say the tape that you smuggled from work would beg to differ.” He snickered, a small smirk fighting his features as he glanced over at you now he knew you weren’t angry at him for finding it. 

You scoffed, your hand reaching over to swat against his arm before looking down at the tape. “I didn’t take it to like, get off to or anything.” Your voice spoke softly, your eyes avoiding his as you looked down at the woman on the cover. 

Steve swallowed thickly, battling down any thoughts of you alone in your room watching that tape that were now at the forefront of his mind. He cricked his neck slightly, hands tightening on the wheel as he spoke. “No? Why’d you take it then? Appreciate the camera work?”

A laugh huffed past your lips at his words, shaking your head gently as you stuffed the tape back into your bag and zipped it back up. “It’s kinda.. Embarrassing.” You whispered softly, twirling your finger around the ribbon that laid across your lap. 

“Embarrassing?” Steve questioned, turning the car down onto your street. You felt him glance over at you, and when you met his gaze he was looking at you with a look you hadn’t seen from him before. Maybe, concern? “You don’t have to tell me, if you don’t want to.” 

You took in a long breath, exhaling it as your gaze turned to watch your house inch closer and closer. “It’s just– Me and Trevor obviously broke up like, two months ago. And I haven’t been with anyone since.”

Steve pulled up his car outside of your house, flicking off the engine and turning his body to you to give you his full attention, his voice soft as he spoke. “That’s not embarrassing.”

“Yeah, no, I know. I’m not embarrassed about that,” You said quickly, debating on whether you should continue or just duck and roll out of the car and into the dark of your bedroom. “I was with Trevor for a long time, like five years, we were each other's first everything. But, he was never really into sex. I could probably count on one hand how many times we fucked in the last like, year of our relationship.”

Steve’s lips pursed shut slightly, his eyes wandering your features that were highlighted from the streetlamps that sat outside his car. “That’s also not embarrassing.”

You scoffed a small laugh, your head leaning back into the headrest before turning it to look at him. “I have a date on Saturday night, and I don’t know how it’s gonna go or if anything will even happen. But, I wanna be prepared. Hence, my homework.” You lifted up your bag with that, the tape rustling in your bag. 

“Oh– Oh, right,” Steve caught on to your idea, shifting slightly in his seat as he cleared his throat. “So, you’re gonna watch porn and study?”

A laugh fell past your lips, nodding your head as your hand ducked to unclip your seatbelt. “Pretty much. My parents are away for the weekend, so I’m gonna make some popcorn and write some notes.”

Steve laughed with you, nodding his head as he watched you hook your bag over your shoulder and open the car door. “Well, have a good time, I guess.” His eyebrow twitched at his words, unsure how to wish somebody luck with studying porn. 

“Thanks, Harrington. And thanks for the ride.” You smiled over at him as you shut the door, offering him a wave before fishing in your bag for your key as you walked up the pathway to your front door. 

Steve’s mind was whirling at a million miles a minute. Thinking of you sitting there all alone watching porn, thinking of what you’d look like with your hand inevitably slipping between your legs under your skirt. 

If Steve was completely, utterly, totally honest with himself, he did always have some resemblance of undiscovered feelings for you. He couldn’t name exactly when it started, he’d thought you were pretty cute when Robin introduced the two of you. But you had a boyfriend and Steve was a gentleman. 

But when you’d broken up with Trevor, things for Steve changed. 

His breath hitched in his throat, and before he could stop himself he was unclicking his own seatbelt and slamming his door shut behind him. 

“Hey!” He called out your name, jogging slightly to catch up with you as you’d stepped into your house. Your eyebrows furrowed as he walked up to your door, his hands slipping into his pocket as he toed up to your porch. “Uh, you– you can totally say no. But, if you’re just gonna sit there and study, I have nothing to do tonight. I can hold the popcorn bowl, answer any questions that you might have.”

Your eyebrows furrowed gently at his proposition, your tongue jutting over your lower lip as you glanced over your shoulder into your empty house. You’d always found Steve attractive, it was never a surprise to you that he did well with girls, but he was your friend. Watching porn with him would be stupid, right? You couldn’t do that. Not when the sounds of moans or slapping skin is filling up the room, or when you could just reach over–

“Sure,” You choked, completely ignoring every voice in your brain screaming no. You stepped further into your entry, holding the door open for him. “Come on in.” 

The house somehow felt even quieter and emptier once Steve had shut the door behind him. Your finger flicked the big light on, your eyes squinting slightly as the warm bulb lit up the room you and Steve were both now standing in. 

“The TV in here isn’t working,” You said with your back turned to Steve as you pushed your shoes off, toeing them to line up by the back door before peering over to him. “Is it weird if we watch it in my room?”

Steve laughed gently as he shrugged a shoulder, copying your actions by pushing off his own shoes. “Not necessarily, nothin’ weird about two friends researching porn together.” His hands slipped into his pockets, straightening his posture as he smiled down at you. 

You nodded gently, taking your bag off your shoulder and swinging it by your side as you glanced around you slightly. “I guess you’re right. Follow me, then.” You began walking backwards, beckoning him with your hand as you made your way up the staircase toward your bedroom. 

It soon dawned on you that Steve had never been inside your house before, let alone your bedroom. God, did you even make your bed this morning? What about that pile of laundry you took upstairs last night? 

When you pushed your door open, you exhaled a short breath at the sight of your made bed and tidy room. You held it open for Steve, waiting until he’d passed you to click it shut. 

“Nice room.” Steve observed as he perched himself on the edge of your bed, his fingers reaching out to grab a photo of you and Robin that you kept on your nightstand. You watched him smile gently at it, before catching your gaze and placing it back where it lived. 

“Thank you very much,” You smiled, sitting your bag next to him as you shrugged off your uniformed vest. You crossed your room, hanging it over the back of your chair, clearing your throat as you looked over at Steve. “You can make yourself comfortable, you know.”

“Oh– Yeah, right.” He mumbled, fingers battling his own vest off as you grabbed an old sweatshirt from your wardrobe, along with a pair of your sleep shorts. You pulled the sweater over your head, manoeuvring your arms out of your t-shirt beneath it and pulled it out of the neck of your sweater. 

You rounded to the other side of your bed so you were behind Steve, quickly glancing to make sure he was facing away from you as you stepped into your shorts. You were swift to pull them up before shimmying out of your skirt, taking your discarded clothes in your hands and dropping them into your laundry basket. 

“You sure you wanna do this?” You joked as you made your way back to Steve’s side of the bed, glancing down at him as your fingers hovered over the zip of your bag. 

Steve’s eyebrows furrowed gently as he nodded up at you, his expression reading that he’d do anything to help out a friend, that’s just the kind of guy he was. “Of course, if you’re sure then I’m happy to help.” 

Your own eyebrows raised slightly as you squinted down at him, ultimately deciding if this was going to be a good idea. No, it wasn’t. But you’d already grabbed the tape and made your way over to your DVR to slip the tape in. 

“Alright then,” You announced as you spun around and climbed onto your bed, crawling up it to sit against your headboard. Steve turned over his shoulder to you at your words, a small smile creeping on his lips as you patted the mattress next to yourself. “Let’s watch some porn, I guess.”

A small sound you couldn’t name escaped Steve’s throat, nodding as he swung his own legs onto your bed to crawl up to sit beside you. He sat a fair bit away from you, bringing his knees up and resting his elbows up on them. “Let’s watch some porn.” 

You snorted a laugh gently as you looked up at him, your teeth sinking into your lower lip as you lifted your remote to point it at the TV. Your room suddenly filling with the sound of the cheesiest attempt of sexy instrumental music, a woman in black lingerie taking over the screen that sat at the end of your bed. 

The woman was gorgeous, slender and blonde with a body that you’d see on the cover of a magazine. Your eyes dialed in as you watched her straddle the man that had just come onto the screen, the close ups of their mouths and tongues moving in unison was a lot more erotic than you’d ever seen, ever even experienced.

The screen showed the man’s hands trailing up and down her body, over her breasts and settling on her back. You glanced over at Steve, who was also completely clocked in on the screen before him. He must’ve felt you staring, because his eyes met yours out of the corner of his, his attention turning to you. 

“You alright over there?” He swallowed slightly, his hand rubbing over his wrist before turning back to the TV. Your eyes followed suit, watching the man’s lips wrapped around the woman’s nipple, the sound of her moans causing you to push your thighs together without realising. 

“Y–Yeah, totally alright,” You huffed an awkward laugh, your arms crossing over your chest as your legs shifted beneath you. “Are you?”

He nodded over at you, his eyes wandering over your features as you intently watched the scene play out ahead of you. He lowered his knees, leaning further into the headboard as he crossed one of his legs over the other. 

Your eyebrows furrowed gently, watching the man ravish the woman’s breast. Her back arching in pleasure as he messily, sloppily made out with her chest. “I didn’t know guys liked doing that.” Your voice mumbled.

“Liked what?” Steve hummed gently, his attention fixed on the sounds the woman was emitting before his head tilted down at you just as you looked up to catch his eye.

Your lips parted slightly, realising you’d said that out loud. You cleared your throat gently, your head turning back to the TV as you shrugged gently. “Y’know, he just seems to really enjoy.. Doing what he’s doing.” 

“Well, he’s probably enjoying it so much ‘cause she’s loving it,” Steve explained gently, his own head tilting as he watched the man press kisses down the woman’s sternum. “Well, for some people, their nipples are super sensitive, some people really enjoy having them– Y’know, played with.” 

“Hm.” You observed, thinking back to the few sexual experiences you’d had with Trevor and how he’d never paid any attention to your chest. Your arms adjusted over your chest, breath slightly hitching in your throat as you realised your own nipples were hard, a slight shiver breezing down your spine at the feeling of them brushing against your sweater.

You and Steve sat in silence as you watched the man’s head dip between the woman’s thighs. The loud, wet sounds of his tongue lapping at her core mixing with her cries and moans were beginning to feel far too much for you. All you could think about whilst watching the woman grind against her partner's face, was how badly you needed that right now. 

“Did– Uh,” Steve started, his hand coming up to his face to rub across his chin as he glanced over at you, watching you transfixed on the screen. “Did Trevor ever do that to you?”

You could only scoff a laugh, shaking your head gently. “No, Trevor was very much an in and out, one and done kind of guy,” Your teeth sank into your lower lip gently, your hand lifting to push your hair behind your ear as you continued. “Maybe once, he did. But it didn't last very long, said it wasn’t his thing.”

Steve laughed down at you in disbelief, causing your neck to twist quickly to look up at him with your eyebrows gently furrowed together. “Sorry, sorry. Just find that hard to believe.” He admitted with a small shrug as he looked back at the TV, you watched his throat bob at the close up of the man’s tongue swirling around her clit. 

“Do you like it?” You whispered gently, not realising the hitch in your breath that had started at the thought of Steve eating pussy. Wondering how his luscious locks of hair would feel against your thighs, his thick hands holding onto you as his tongue ravished you. 

“Do I?” He broke his eyes from the screen, taking a moment to look over your expression before giving a small nod. His palm splayed against his thigh, rubbing it gently as he spoke. “Yeah, I mean, I like making whoever I’m with feel good, that gets me off. But, it is pretty hot.” 

You flashed him a small smile, watching as he turned his attention back to the screen. Your hands dropped to your sides, pushing yourself to sit further up as you turned your own attention back to the screen. Watching closely as she rode out her orgasm on his fingers and his tongue, glancing back over to Steve out of the corner of your eye.

“What’s it like?” You whispered hoarsely, turning your full attention to him as he glanced over at you. “Like, being with someone like that. I mean, me and Trevor never had this kind of passion. I don’t think I’ve ever– Orgasmed from someone’s fingers before.”

Steve’s lips parted gently, his eyes darting between your own and the screen before slightly turning his body to you. “Well, it’s all about knowing what your partner wants. What gets them going, what they like, what they don’t like. When you’re with someone who knows what you want and you can really let go with, it’s sorta the best thing.” 

Your lips pursed together slightly, nodding as you ran the palm of your hand across your collarbone, trying to attempt to cool down the sudden burn of your skin as your eyes wandered his face. “How d’you know what you like?”

You watched Steve’s tongue dart past his lips to trail across his lower lip, wetting it before taking in a short breath. His eyes glanced over your face, slowly trailing down your body before finding your eyes again. “Do you want to find out?” His voice was low and hearty as he spoke, causing shivers to roll down your spine.

“H–How will I find out?” You pressed quietly, lowering your hand from your shoulder to rest on your lap. Your body shifted slightly under his gaze, turning your body to his further.

Steve inhaled a short breath, his hand lowering from his thigh to press into the mattress to angle himself closer to you. You felt all of your inhibitions get sucked from your mind as he lifted his other hand to brush a fallen strand of your hair behind your ear, his eyes ducking to your lips before looking back into yours. “Let me help you out, we can find out what you like together.”

It felt as if Steve had sucked the air from your lungs, your eyes fell to his lips as you nodded softly. “Yeah, okay.” You whispered gently as you inched yourself closer to him.

His hand that pushed the hair into place found your jaw, cupping it gently as he dragged his thumb against your lower lip softly. “Can I kiss you?” He asked tenderly, a complete stark difference to the lewd sound of skin slapping pouring out of the TV.

You were quick to nod, your eyes transfixed on the plush of his lips. And before you knew it, they were on yours. Tenderly taking your upper lip between his as your lashes fluttered shut, your hand finding his thigh to ground yourself as his slipped from your jaw to curl through your hair, holding you steady against him. 

Just as you parted your lips to further the kiss, he’d pulled his own away. They were quick to press to the corner of your mouth, your cheek, every inch of your skin until they found the curve of your jaw. His fingers slipping to hold the back of your neck as he sucked gently on the soft skin of your neck, grazing his teeth gently against it before soothing the touch with his tongue. 

Your head lulled back into his hand, giving him easier access to any part of you that he wanted to touch. Your hand squeezed his thigh, edging him on as the other slipped up from the mattress to hold onto his shoulder. 

“Is this okay?” His voice murmured against your skin, earning a quick nod from you along with a soft sigh of pleasure. He hummed gently in approval, dragging his wet lips to your collarbone. 

Steve’s spare hand found your lower back, pulling you closer to him as his lips practically devoured any inch of your skin that was peeking out from the neck of your sweater. You let out another pleasured sigh, your eyes opening to meet his as you felt him lift his head. 

His thumb traced back and forth at the nape of your neck, watching you closely as your eyes trailed from his back down to his lips. Your hand that was glued to his thigh raised to his shoulder, and before you could second guess your actions, you were pushing yourself up onto your knees and lifting your leg over his lap. 

You hesitantly settled yourself down on him, feeling very aware that you were now straddling him whilst the tape continued to play behind you. Both of his hands found refuge at your waist, you could feel the weight of his hands through the thin fabric. 

“Is this okay?” You whispered softly, lifting a hand from his shoulder to push through the few strands of his hair that had fallen over his forehead. He nodded softly, huffing a small laugh through his nose which earned a small smile from you. 

“Of course it’s okay,” His own voice whispered back, his hand slipping up your back slowly. Landing between your shoulder blades, leaning you closer until your chest pressed against his. Your eyes dropped to his lips, sitting only a few inches from yours. “You can do anything you want to me.”

The corner of your mouth curved into a smirk, a disbelieving laugh passing your lips gently as the gravity of the situation weighed on your shoulders. Your hand slipped up to hold his jaw, nodding gently before you lifted your chin to press your lips against his. 

He let you take the lead, a content sigh falling from his against your lips. You could feel yourself melting against him, his grip tightening on your waist as your tongue parted his lips. You moaned gently into his mouth as your tongue fought against his, his hand slipping down your back to slip them both under the hem of your sweater to hold your waist. 

His warm hands felt electric against your bare skin, the fabric pooling at his wrists as your hips shifted on his lap. Your breath hitched into his mouth as your core rocked against the bulge suddenly apparent to you through Steve’s denim. 

Your hips began rocking back and forth slowly, a tight moan croaking in your throat with each grind, the seam of the fabric hitting your clit at the perfect angle. Steve’s hands slipped down to your hips, guiding your movements as he pulled his lips back from yours. 

“Does that feel good, honey?” His lips whispered against yours hoarsely, his forehead leaning against yours as you nodded up at him. Your lips parted, your mind scrambling to find the words to say as you felt yourself clenching around nothing. 

One of Steve’s hands tightened on your waist, the other slowly pushing up your side again and pulling up your sweater with it. His hand paused beneath your breast, his thumb gently rubbing against the skin as he let out a tight breath. 

“You can take it off, Steve.” You whispered back softly, your teeth sinking into your lower lip as your hips came to a pause. It wasn’t lost on you that you were currently making out with your friend, about to bare yourself to him completely, but nothing about it felt weird. Somehow, it felt like this was always going to happen. 

He nodded gently, pressing his lips to yours softly as his hands continued their journey of pulling your sweater up and over your head. You pulled your lips back from his reluctantly to rid the garment, lifting your arms up from his shoulders as he pulled it away from you. 

But when you came out the other side, Steve’s gaze was straight back to your eyes. Offering you a warm smile as his hands placed one at your lower back, the other between your shoulder blades as he pulled you back down to him. 

His lips brushed against yours softly, not kissing you yet but more just exploring the feeling of your lips against his. You sighed against his mouth at the feeling of the pique cotton of Steve’s shirt rubbing against your nipples as he held you against him. 

Slowly, his grip on you tightened as his legs shifted beneath him. He sucked your upper lip between his as your arms snaked around his neck, one of his hands slipping down your body to hold your thigh as he lifted you slightly to lower you onto your back against your mattress. 

Once he’d placed you down and he’d settled between your thighs, he pulled his lips from yours slowly to finally glance down at your chest. One of his hands braced beside you to hold himself up, whilst the other splayed against your waist gently rubbing his thumb against your skin. His lips pressed to the corner of your mouth, trailing along your jaw and your neck before fluttering down toward your chest. 

“You’re so beautiful,” He mumbled against your skin, your fingers slipping through his hair as you looked down at him. His eyes flickered up to yours as he lifted his head up slightly, the corner of his lips turning upward. “Seriously. I think you’re beautiful.”

Just as you went to reply, he lowered his lips to your skin again. His tongue passed his lips to circle around your hardened nipple, a low sigh of pleasure rumbling from your chest. His mouth wrapped around it, latching onto the hardened peak as his hand slipped from your waist to cup your breast he was neglecting. 

His thumb rubbed the soft skin on the underside of your breast, trailing up to rub back and forth against the peak as he began twisting it with his forefinger. His mouth left your breast with a pop, quick to soothe the other as your grip tightened on the strands of his hair. 

“God, Steve,” You huffed as you watched him, your hips rocking up desperate to find him again. His eyes fluttered up to yours as he sucked on your nipple, releasing it with a pop before moving back to the other. “Feels so good.” 

“Yeah?” He mumbled against you, earning you to quickly nod down at him. He pulled his lips from you with a small smirk, pressing into the mattress as he lifted himself to find your lips again. “We’re only getting started.”

You huffed a sigh against his lips at his words, your hands tangling in his hair as he sucked your lower lip between his, his teeth gently sinking into it before pulling back. He pressed a trail of sloppy kisses along your jaw, dipping to your collarbone, down across your chest and between your breasts. 

His hands followed his movements, slipping down your body as his lips continued down your sternum until they reached your navel. His eyes flickered up to yours as he shifted backward, his hands trailing down your thighs until they reached your knees. 

“Just relax, okay?” Steve spoke gently as he sat before you, your knees sat pressed together but his gentle touch was igniting a fire within you that you knew needed to be put out. “If at any time it gets too much, or you don’t like it. We can stop, yeah?”

Your teeth sank into your lower lip as your breath hitched in your throat, gently nodding as your knees fell apart for him. “I don’t think that’ll be an issue.” You smirked softly through a small laugh, watching as his fingers wrapped around your sleep shorts. You lifted your hips up, angling your legs for him so he could discard them. 

“Shit,” He mumbled under his breath as he took in the sight of you before him. Laid in a pair of light coloured panties, his hands slowly inched down your thighs, rubbing the soft skin as his eyes glued to your core. “You’re so wet, already.”

He proved his observations as his palm pressed against your mound, his thumb softly circling the wet patch of your underwear that stuck to you as his eyes flickered up to yours. He watched as your head lulled back into the mattress, quick to lift to find his gaze again. 

“So, I guess you can write this down for your homework,” He started as he lowered himself between your legs, pressing his lips to your knee as his thumb continued to manoeuvre against your slit. 

“You like your breasts played with, you like me suckin’ on them, touching them,” You watched intently as his lips gradually pressed closer and closer to where you needed him the most. His fingers slipped to wrap around the band of your underwear, his lips brushing your inner thigh. “You like your neck being kissed, grinding yourself on me. That really got you going, hm?”

A loud, pleasured sigh left your lips as you nodded, lifting yourself up on your elbows to watch as he slowly peeled your underwear off of you. Your hips lifted again, legs following to assist him removing them from you. 

“Holy shit.” Steve mumbled as he tossed your underwear somewhere beside him, his hands splaying at your inner thighs as he spread you further open for him. He pressed his lips to your mound, a gentle kiss against the hair that laid there. 

He pulled back slightly, watching as he slipped his index finger slowly along your slit. Your breath hitched at the touch, his middle finger joining to spread you open for him as he hummed gently to himself. “Such a pretty pussy, too. You’re so wet, baby.” 

His head leant against your thigh gently, his eyes transfixed on the way your pussy fluttered for him as he used his fingers to explore you. His eyes darting up to gauge your reaction as his middle finger found your clit.

“Fuck, Steve.” You whined in pleasure, your hips involuntarily rutting upward to find his touch. His spare hand was wrapped around the back of your thigh, a small hum passing his lips as he slipped it to rub gently against your hipbone. 

“You like it when I touch your clit, add that to your list.” He spoke almost to himself, dragging his fingers to circle your entrance as his eyes left the soaked sight before him to look back up into yours. 

You couldn’t bring yourself to break eye contact with him, especially when his head lifted from your thigh and settled between your legs. His tongue reaching out to circle around your throbbing clit as his middle finger shallowly pressed at your entrance.

You watched with intent, your jaw slack as he wrapped his lips around your clit, lewdly sucking on the swollen nerve as his middle finger slowly pressed inside of you. 

“Oh my god.” You whined with pleasure, your elbows shaking slightly beneath you as you held yourself up to watch Steve. You felt him hum against you, letting yourself fall back against the mattress as his fingers finally started fucking you.  

Steve pulled his lips off you, letting out a groan as he pulled his finger out to push his ring finger back inside you with the other. “Fuck, you’re so tight,” He murmured as his fingers resumed their actions, eyes flickering up to watch you writhe in pleasure as his fingers curled against the spongy spot inside you. “And you taste so good, holy shit.” 

His mouth was back on you before you could blink, his tongue delving through your folds and licking up every drop of your arousal that was spilling out of you. He was quick to find your clit again, taking it between his lips with fever. 

Both of your hands flew to his hair, tugging gently on his soft strands as your hips rocked slightly against him. Desperate to feel more of him against you, inside of you. 

Steve’s hand that was holding your hip grabbed ahold of you, dragging his grip along your arm until his hand found yours tangled in his hair. He pulled your fingers out of it, his own fingers slipping through yours the second they became free. Your entwined hands fell against your stomach as his fingers picked up their pace, your moans leaving your lips now louder than the forgotten tape still playing on your TV. 

“Fuck, Steve,” Your shaky voice cried out, Steve’s hand squeezing yours in encouragement as his fingers picked up their pace, continuously hitting the perfect spot inside of you. “I’m so close, fuck.”

“Come for me, baby,” He spoke against your clit, his fingers fucking into your cunt speeding up as you feel the heat building in your stomach. His eyes watch as your head rolls back into the mattress with pleasure, your hips rocking against his face. “Such a good girl for me. Let go for me, honey, come on.”

His encouragement was quick to push you over the edge, your thighs trembling around him as your grip on his hair tightened. With each curl of his fingers hitting perfectly inside of you, you were quick to finally release around him. 

Steve groaned in satisfaction against you as his fingers worked you through your high, his tongue toying against your clit until your hand pulled from his hair. Your hand dropped against your stomach, your hips still rocking with his movements slightly as he slowly coaxed his fingers out of you. 

“Taste so fucking good.” He pulled his lips from your clit, quick to dip his fingers between his lips to suck your arousal from his digits. He pulled them out with a small pop, steadying it at your thigh as his head dipped back between your thighs to trail his tongue through your folds, seemingly eager to collect every last drop he’d coaxed from you. 

“Steve, shit.” You whined gently, lifting your head to watch him. His fingers splayed across the meat of your thigh, his tongue dipping into your entrance caused his nose to brush against your clit earning a loud cry to fall past your lips. 

“Mm,” He mumbled against you, eyes opening to look up at you as he finally pulled his mouth off of you. A small smirk grew against your lips at the sight of the lower of his face glistening with your come, watching his tongue dart across his lips as his hand left your thigh to press against the mattress to lift himself back up to you. “Hi.”

You squeezed his hand that was still holding yours, your hand that was resting on your stomach coming up to hold his cheek as you let out a breathy, disbelieving laugh. “Hi.” 

He matched your gentle laugh, his thumb rubbing against the back of your hand as he lowered his forehead down to your shoulder before turning his head to press his lips to your neck. “Safe to say, you enjoy getting your pussy eaten.” 

“W– Steve!” You huffed at his crude words, causing his head to lift from your neck to look down at you. His eyebrows furrowed gently, but you could tell it was in a teasing manner. 

“What? You did,” His lip curved into a smirk, he inched closer to you as his nose brushed against yours gently. “You loved it, hm? Getting your pretty little pussy fucked by my fingers, coming all over my face. Think you can add it to your list.” 

Your teeth sank into your lower lip as your fingertips pushed through the curls on the side of his head, your eyes studying his face until they settled on his glistening lips. “Well, maybe you’re right.” 

His hot breath hit your parted lips as he huffed a small laugh, his lips brushing your upper gently as he whispered against you. “You’re perfect, you know. It’s like you were made for me, so tight, just fit so perfectly inside of you,” You sighed against his mouth at his words, “And you taste so good, wish I could taste you all day.”

“Steve–” You sighed against his lips, your eyes fluttering shut at his words but you were quick to open them as you couldn’t bear not to be looking at him for a second longer. 

“Do you want to taste yourself?” His hoarse voice and filthy words were probably enough to make you come all over again, your lips parted to let out a low sigh as you nodded gently. 

His hand slowly pulled away from yours, the other pressing further against your mattress to settle himself on his side next to you. His arm stretched out behind your head whilst the other rested against your stomach, lowering his lips slowly down to yours. 

You sighed against his lips as they finally sank into your own, his lips taking your upper hostage before releasing them, his tongue entering your mouth to coax your tongue with his. His hand slipped down your body slowly, his fingertips gently grazing your mound as your thigh fell open for him again. 

He sighed into your mouth, his upper body settling closer into you as your fingers wrapped around the collar of his polo shirt. Your breath hitched against him as you felt his fingers dipping between your folds again, pushing through every curve to collect as much of your spend on his fingers before pulling his hand back up your body. 

A small huff left your lips as he pulled his lips back from you, your thighs clamping together again as your tongue darted across your lower lip, tasting the remnants of you from his mouth. 

“Open up, pretty girl.” He whispered softly, his eyes bearing into yours as two of his wet fingertips tapped at your lower lip gently. Your lips parted for him, tongue following as his eyes dropped to your mouth. 

He dragged his fingers across your upper lip before slipping them into your mouth, a choked sound passing his throat as he watched your mouth close around his fingers. Your hand dragged from his collar to wrap around his wrist, slowly dragging your lips up and down his fingers as you sucked your arousal from them. 

“Holy fuck, such a good girl,” He praised as you pulled your lips off his fingers with a pop, his hand was quick to find your waist as he pulled you closer against him. His lips brushing against yours as he spoke, “Another thing to add to your list, hm?”

“Steve,” You whispered against his lips before he could kiss you again, he pulled himself back to look down at you properly, his hand that was resting above your head lowered to brush some of your hair off your forehead. 

“Yeah, baby?” He whispered back, his eyes trailing across your features before landing on your own. 

You swallowed your words down gently, watching your hand as it splayed at his shoulder. “When I was with Trevor, he’d never want me to go down on him,” You watched his breath hitch in his throat, you couldn’t help sinking your lower lip into your teeth before continuing. “So, I guess I don’t really know how. I mean, I know how, but– Can you teach me? Properly?” 

His lips were parted in disbelief, his hand paused on your waist at your words. You watched his mouth moving slightly but no words coming out, his eyes flickering between yours and your lips – as if he needed you to say it again. 

“Can I suck your cock, please?” You whispered, leaning forward to brush your lips against his as you rolled your body into his. “Wanna make you feel as good as you made me feel.” 

“Fuck, yes,” Steve managed, nodding quickly as his hand slipped up to hold the back of your head steady as he pressed his lips against yours. You felt his hips shuffling beside you, a small smirk growing against your lips. “I can teach you, baby. I said, you can do anything you want to me.” 

A content sigh escaped you as your lips captured his, nodding against him as your fingers moved to wrap around the collar of his shirt to tug on it gently. He pulled his lips from yours and sat himself up slightly, pulling his shirt over his head. 

He went to lean down to kiss you again, but your hand against his chest stopped him in his tracks. “God, Steve,” You mumbled gently as your eyes took in the sight before you. 

Everything that you’d see of Steve everyday was beautiful. His face, his hair, his arms and his hands were all perfect. Covered in moles that kissed his skin beautifully, the curve of his jaw perfectly angled and the shape of his nose you so eagerly wanted to bite. 

But seeing the rest of Steve that you didn’t see everyday, was even more beautiful. His moles and freckles danced across every inch of his chest, shoulders, arms and his stomach. His stomach that curved over the belt of his jeans ever so slightly, covered with a trail of hair that led right down to exactly where you wanted to be. 

Your hand reached out to his broad shoulder, tenderly dragging your nails down to his bicep that you’d only ever seen stretched out beneath one of his t-shirts. You trailed your fingers across his chest, through the thatch of hair that covered him so perfectly. 

“You’re so beautiful, Steve.” Your voice left a whisper as your eyes attempted to look at every new part of him at once, when you finally looked up to meet his eyes again he was looking at you with a look you’d never seen before. 

“What?” You asked gently, pulling your hand back hesitantly from his chest but he was quick to shake his head. 

He reached his hand up to find yours, pushing his fingers through your own and bringing the back of your hand to his mouth as he pressed a small kiss to the soft skin. “No, nothing. Just don’t think anyone’s ever called me beautiful before.” 

“Well, then everyone else is simply blind.” Your words earned a huffed laugh from him, but you only smiled up at him as you lifted yourself up to his face. Your spare hand holding the side of his neck as your lips tenderly brushed against his, whispering softly against them. “D’you wanna maybe, sit up at the headboard? Might be easier.” 

He nodded softly, pulling his hand from yours to hold the back of your head as he pressed a kiss against you. Then another, and another. “Yeah, baby. Whatever you want.”

You pulled away from him, shuffling backward to let him manoeuvre himself to pull some of the pillows you’d both been leaning on earlier to make room for himself. He settled against the headboard, his legs spread slightly as his hand reached out for you. “C’mere.”

As soon as your hand found his, he was quick to pull you into him, his hand settling at your waist. Your body pressed against his side as his lips pressed beneath your ear, sucking gently at the sensitive skin as your other hand pressed to his chest, eyes trailing down his body to the bulge in his jeans. 

“You sure you wanna do this, honey?” He spoke against your skin, but instead of using your words you reached down slightly to press your palm against the strain of his jeans. His breath hitched against your skin, pulling his lips away to watch. 

Your hand cupped his confined cock, slowly rubbing your hand backward and forward as you watched his stomach tensing. “Is this okay?” You whispered gently, your eyes watching your hand before looking down at him. 

He nodded gently, his breath hitching in his throat as his spare hand came up to start unbuckling his belt. You watched his attempt, his shaky fingers struggling to release himself with one hand. 

“Let me.” You whispered, leaning down to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth before pulling away from his side. You shuffled down his body, straightening yourself to sit between his thighs. You sat up on your knees as your hands met to unbuckle his belt, unbutton the denim and pull the zipper down. 

You lowered your head, nose nuzzling against the hair against his navel as your lips pressed wet kisses against his skin. Your eyes fluttered up to his as his breath hitched, your fingers wrapping around the waist of his jeans and slowly shimmying them down. 

He lifted his hips up for you, intently watching as your eyes stayed glued to his hardened cock that laid in his boxers. You pulled the denim down, crawling backwards to assist him in pulling them off completely. 

Once they were dropped to the floor, your hand found the meat of his thighs. Softly rubbing your thumb back and forth against his skin, your other hand returned to palm against him. Your eyes flickered up to watch his reaction as your hand rubbed back and forth slowly through the fabric, your teeth sinking into your lower lip as your fingers wrapped around the waist of his underwear and pulled it down his thighs. 

Steve’s cock was thick, it looked heavy as it sprung out of its confinement. It laid flat on his stomach, and you watched with your interest piqued as his tip glistened. Your hand reached out to wrap around his base, fingers tightening as you guided it toward you to inspect him more. 

“You’re so big, baby.” Your voice whispered gently, your eyes still revelling in the feeling of how his throbbing cock felt in your hand. Your hand slowly dragged up his length, your thumb reaching out to smear the pre-cum that he’d leaked over him as your eyes met his. 

“F–Fuck,” His voice croaked, his hand quick to push through your hair as his teeth left bite marks in his swollen lower lip. “You’re doing well, honey. Just take what you can, okay? Shit.” He cursed under his breath, silently thinking to himself how he won’t last long at all with this sight before him. 

You nodded gently, your hand slipping down his length and shallowly pumping at his base. You lowered your head, running your tongue slowly up his cock until it circled at his tip, collecting his spend on your tongue, quick to swallow it down. 

His fingers collected some strands of your hair that had fallen over your face as your lips wrapped around his tip, your hand still pumping his cock slowly. Your brows furrowed gently as your jaw stretched, your mouth not used to taking anything near the size of Steve.

“That’s it, such a good girl,” He hummed, his fingertips tracing back and forth on your scalp as he watched you. “Y–You can spit on it, if you want. Make it easier.” 

You pulled yourself off of him, a small sigh passing your lips as you did. Your wrist twisted as you pumped his length, lowering your head to his tip as you pooled saliva in your mouth and let it fall from between your lips to his tip. You take him back in your mouth, humming a small moan against him as your tongue explores the feeling of him between your lips. 

His head snapped back against the headboard as you sank further onto his cock, your hand squeezing his thigh as you picked up your pace. His moans hit your ear like honey as you felt him taking up more space in your mouth, your eyes fluttering shut as you huffed your breath through your nose. 

“Look at you, honey. Taking my cock so well, fuck.” His words only spurred you on, your hand squeezing his length as it pumped the inches of him that you couldn’t fit in your mouth. 

He watched in disbelief, the sight of your spit and his pre-come pooling at the corners of your mouth. His hips rocked up slightly, earning your grip on his thigh to tighten as your lips inched down his length. 

“Fuck, baby, I’m not gonna last long– You look so fucking– Shit.” Steve whined slightly as his grip on your head tightened, guiding your movements as you found your groove and picked up the pace. 

You pulled yourself off him, opening your eyes to look up at him as your fist bobbed up and down his cock. Another trail of your saliva passed your lips, landing on his tip as your thumb swiped it across his tip. Your hand pulled his cock to the side as your lips lowered to his balls, your wet lips sucking on them slightly before they found the base of his cock, dragging up his length as your tongue twirled around his sensitive tip. 

Steve’s lips parted in astonishment, his stomach tightening as his moans broke past his lips in a small plea. “Fuck, you’re doing so good– I’m so close, baby.”

“I want you to come for me, Steve,” You spoke gently against his tip, your lips sucking the tender skin as your hand picked up his pace. “Come in my mouth, I don't care. I wanna taste you.” 

With that, you sank yourself back down on him, taking as much of his length as you could manage. Breathing through your nose, you inched down further, your head bobbing at a steady pace.

Your nose hit your hand that was circled around the base of his cock, feeling his tip hit the back of your throat. You felt your eyes watering as they looked up at him, slowly pulling your hand down to hold his thigh as his hips jerked upward slightly, fucking into your mouth. 

“Fuck– I’m gonna come, holy fuck–” Steve’s head hit the headboard again, but was quick to pull his gaze back to you. “Such a good girl for me, baby.” His thumb rubbed against your temple as you pulled your lips back his cock slightly, your head bobbing to match the thrust of his hips. 

You felt his cock twitch in your mouth, and the spurt of his warm, thick come depositing into your mouth. You moaned against him at the feeling, your spare hand holding onto his hip as the other kept its pace, letting him fuck your hand and your mouth as you swallowed down everything he was offering you. 

“Fuck,” He spoke through heavy breaths, his hand guiding your head off of him slowly. You pulled your lips off of him with a small pop of your mouth, watching as your hand followed suit. You brought it up to your mouth, wiping the corner of it on the back of your hand. 

“Was that okay?” You asked gently as you sat between his thighs, your eyes flickering between his flagging cock and the fucked out look on his face. 

He could only manage a small laugh, his arm reaching out for you which you were quick to accept. You crawled up his body, nestling yourself under his shoulder and resting your leg over his as his arm engulfed you. 

“Okay? That was incredible, didn’t even need my help.” His words were gentle as his palm rubbed at your waist, his other hand coming to brush strands of your hair away that had stuck to your forehead. 

Your hand settled at his chest, pushing yourself up and inching closer to his face. You paused, not knowing whether to kiss him now that your deal was over, Steve was your friend. Sure, he’d just given you the best orgasm of your life but you’d have to see him at work tomorrow. 

But you were broken from your thoughts as his hand slipped to your jaw, holding you steady as his lips brushed yours tenderly. His tongue passing between your lips despite the fact he’d just come in your mouth. His grip on you tightened, squeezing you gently before pulling back slightly. 

“Do you have a pen? And paper?” He whispered against your lips gently, causing you to let out a small laugh. You nodded gently, pressing your hand to his chest to lift yourself up and lean over to your bedside table, opening the drawer for your notebook and pen.

The two of you sat up as you settled back next to him, his arm wrapping comfortably around your waist as he pulled you into him. His lips pressed gentle kisses against your shoulder as he sat behind you, watching as you flicked the notebook onto a new page. 

“Alright, what am I writing then?” You spoke gently, leaning into his touch as you tilted your head aside to let his lips touch wherever he wanted to. 

He huffed a small laugh from behind you, fingers splaying at your waist as he mumbled against your skin. “Thought you could start writing your notes whilst they’re fresh in your brain. Now, what did you like?”

You shook your head gently, chin tucking into your chest as you giggled gently at his words. He laughed along with you, lips brushing your skin as he spoke against you. “You like it when I kiss your neck, you like it when you fuck yourself on my face,” You feel your skin burning at his words, unable to help the smirk that’s growing against your lips even though he can’t see it. “I think you liked sucking my cock, too. You were a natural.” 

You played along with his words, writing down everything he was listing and the things he’d mentioned before. Once you reached the end of the list you leant forward slightly, turning to look at him as you spoke gently. “Anything else?” 

“Oh, we’ll cover that next time, baby. Don’t worry about that.” He grinned at you, an eyebrow quirking as his hand tangled in your hair to pull your lips against his. You huffed a laugh against him, before mumbling against his lips. 

“Next time?” You pulled back gently, not before pressing a kiss to his lips. You watched him nod down at you as his hand slipped from your hair to settle back down at your waist. 

A/N : Okay, so... went absolutely crazy with this. I have no idea if it's any good since it's the first time I've ever written something like this (MMF), so please tell me if you liked it (I die for comments). I got inspired by @tellcherhesgone , @frootybb , and all the wonderful posts about Teacake x any other djoling 😵‍💫 Made me think of this dynamic and here we are! Keycake has fully taken over my brain, I'm afraid.

WC : 8k :)

♡ Masterlist ♡

***********

The hallway was dim, one of the overhead lights blinking rapidly as the dying bulb kept holding on for dear life. Travis had just gotten back from work and he was taking the trash out when he saw his neighbor – the nerdy guy with soft brown hair and glasses – get out of his apartment.

Travis approached him, feeling his usual chatty self revving up. "Hey! Um... I'm Teacake." He points to his apartment. "We're neighbors, hah. I was wonderin' what you do for work? 'Cause you always leave for the whole day and then you don't sleep when you're here."

Keys looked at him with barely masked horror, his mouth slightly open as he peered at the man over his glasses. He looked like he had just seen or heard the most disturbing thing he could think of.

Travis noticed and immediately took a step back and shook his head, his hands coming up as if to say I’m not a threat. "Woah, I didn't mean it like that! That sounded creepy." He scoffed, lowering his hands and shrugging. "S'just, your office probably shares a wall with my bedroom or somethin’, and I hear your keyboard and shit. You know, thin walls. Anyway... what's your name?"

Keys felt awkward. And almost a little scared. He had noticed how the bulkier man had swept his eyes over his frame quickly when he first approached him, and it had sent an unexplainable shiver down his spine. Keys figured he shouldn't upset him, even if the man he now knew as ‘Teacake’ appeared like he could share DNA with a golden retriever puppy. "It's fine. Uh... it's Walter. I'm a game developer." He checked his watch.

"Oh, that's dope! Man, that must take a lot of focus. Anyway, I won't hold you up any longer. Probably gotta go create cool stuff, huh? See ya." He said, suddenly feeling self-conscious after sensing his neighbor’s discomfort. Travis retreated to his apartment with a polite nod of his head.

****

Without meaning to, the encounter lingered in Walter's mind. He kept noticing Travis when he would see him around the building, and he'd give him slight nods of acknowledgment, but never more. It made the bleached-blonde man hold off from speaking to him again, sensing that Keys wasn’t interested like he might have been.

One night, Keys was cooking dinner while he was waiting for you to come to his place after work. He was making your favorite pasta dish - a creamy sauce with sun-dried tomatoes, garlic, spinach, and just the right amount of pepper and herbs over al dente orzo. But when came the time to add pepper, he picked up the shaker and found it empty. And then the back-up canister he found at the back of his pantry was also annoyingly pepper-less. He stared at it in disbelief. "Really? Who fucking runs out of pepper?"

He debated going to the store, but you'd be here in about ten minutes, and the sauce was already bubbling away. He huffed and turned down the heat to an even lower simmer before heading out of his apartment. He nervously knocked on Travis’ door.

When the man opened it, his eyes widened as he took in the sight of his neighbor he thought he had no chance of befriending standing right in front of him. Travis instantly kicked himself for not waking up earlier because he was positive he looked completely messy, and not in a hot way – his hair was still mussed from sleep and he had on a gray shirt with sweatpants that were a bit twisted on his body, his usual attire for getting ready for work. "Um, hi?"

Keys didn't look at him straight on. "Hi. I'm sorry to bother you. I'm uh... cooking for my girlfriend and I'm out of pepper. Would you, perhaps... have any I could borrow?"

Travis furrowed his brows as he crossed his arms over his chest, the motion making his biceps strain against the cuffs of his t-shirt. He noticed how Keys' attention got drawn to it before the man's eyes looked up at him through his glasses. "Who the fuck runs out of pepper?" Travis asked, mirroring Keys’ earlier reflection.

Keys chuckled and shrugged, slightly defeated. "Me, apparently."

Travis studied him a second longer before he retreated into his apartment, leaving his door wide open. Keys stayed still for a second but then entered when Travis started speaking from his kitchen. "So you have a girlfriend, huh? You been together long?"

Keys reached the kitchen and saw Travis rummaging through his cupboards. "Almost a year now," Keys said with a soft smile.

Travis grabbed his pepper container and spun around, making his hair rise up and down with the motion. "Ah! There you go. And that's nice. You’re lucky to have someone." He gave the pepper to Keys, who immediately nodded and shot him a tight-lipped smile.

"Thanks, man. I'll uh... bring it back as soon as I'm done."

Travis waved him off, cocking his head to the side as his shoulder came up. "No trouble. Actually, I'm leavin' for work soon, so... bring it back tomorrow or somethin'."

Keys nodded. "Sure. What uh... what do you do for work?"

Travis had not expected the nerdy man to ask him that, let alone show any interest in getting to know him. He leaned his hip against the counter. "Oh. I work at a storage facility. Graveyard shift. It's nothing much but they hired me, and since no one wants to do it, it pays pretty well. I used to have a similar job back in Kansas. Used to think it was pretty shitty, but when I came to Boston, it felt kinda groundin’ to have a similar job, y’know?”

Keys nodded and smiled a little warmer before leaving toward the door. "Oh, that’s cool. Didn’t know you were from Kansas. Well, have a good shift."

"Thanks, and you have a good date!" Travis said as Keys slipped out of his apartment to go finish your dinner with his borrowed pepper.

****

The night after, you were making out with Keys on his bed. Your top was already off, your thighs on either side of his lap as you kept rolling your hips over his bulge. The rough denim seam kept catching deliciously against your clothed clit as your hands were buried in his hair to keep him at that perfect kissable angle.

His hands kept roaming over your thighs, letting you do your thing, sometimes slipping under your skirt to grab your ass and pull you a little bit more forcefully against him. "Fuck, Petal... keep going. Just like that." He sounded wrecked, just the way you liked him when you were on top.

You reached for the hem of his shirt and ripped it off him before sliding down slightly, just enough so you could undo his pants and take his painfully hard cock out. "I need you, baby. Right now."

"Uh-huh, you have me. Shit..." Keys hissed as you pulled your panties to the side and sank down on him. He grabbed your waist to stabilize you, and then you started rolling your hips.

Moans of pleasure quickly began falling from your lips, your head tipping back as your hand grabbed his thigh to keep yourself propped up. Keys was in awe, looking at you like you were a literal goddess in his lap, fucking herself on his cock like he was her humble servant – just a warm rod to utilize. It made his head spin as his whines and moans got louder. "That's it... fuck. So beautiful, baby. Use me, yeah."

You cried out as he rolled his hips up to meet your movements, making his thick cock (it’s always the nerds) reach that spot inside you that had you seeing stars. At the loud sound, his gaze flicked to his desk and his keyboard, and then to that conversation with his neighbor. If he could hear the keys, then he could definitely hear this. And for some reason, that turned Keys on immensely. He didn’t know why – maybe it was that primal part of him that wanted to prove to other men how good he could make a woman feel, or maybe it was the fact that the blonde man had piqued his interest in potentially more than a friendly way, although he wouldn’t admit that.

Keys kept bucking his hips up as you grinded on him, your hand rubbing circles on your clit, until you shattered around him. "Fu-uck!" You came with a loud cry, moaning his name as you collapsed onto him and buried your face in his neck.

It only took a few more thrusts through your spasming walls for him to fill you up with his release, marking you as his. "Holy shit, baby... god, you're perfect. So fucking perfect.”

After cleaning you up and giving you a shirt to sleep in, he excused himself and told you he'd just be a minute. He grabbed the borrowed pepper from his kitchen and made his way to the door next to his.

He heard some swearing after he knocked, a little shuffling, and then Travis opened the door. His face was flushed, and he hid the front of his sweatpants behind the half-opened door. "Hey, man!" His voice sounded strained.

Keys smirked – his attitude a little cocky, or maybe self-assured, in his post-sex afterglow – and he raked his fingers through his still sweat-damp hair before raising the pepper into view. "Evening. Thanks again for the pepper, man. She really appreciated it. I owe you one." He pressed the cannister in Travis' hand, and his fingers brushed his palm a little longer than they should have. To say Travis was confused at Walter’s newfound confidence would be putting it lightly, but at the same time, he did just hear him moan and make a woman come probably like ten feet away from him. Yes, he had been touching himself to the sound. So what?

So what, he was embarrassed and he felt like Keys could see right through him.

"N-no worries. Just neighborly kindness, yeah?" Travis swallowed thickly, shuffling a little behind the door as Keys stayed glued in the same spot. They stared each other down for a second, the power dynamic weirdly reversed from their first encounters, before Travis heard your soft voice.

"Babe? Keys? Where are - oh!" You padded down the hall in nothing but the oversize shirt that reached down to your mid-thigh - let's face it, this was also oversized for Keys. You wrapped your arm around his waist, and his arm came up around your shoulder, and then you peaked at the blonde man. He looked handsome, maybe even similar to keys with his soft and big hazel eyes. But his vibe was completely different. If Keys was a neatly folded tower of plush white towels, Travis was a chaotic but somehow still standing pile of mismatched ones. The dichotomy amused you.  "Everything okay?"

Before Walter could answer, Travis spoke up. His eyes fixed on you. "Y-yeah! Um... Walter here just gave me back the pepper he was missin' for y'all's dinner yesterday. Hope it was good." He flashed you a soft grin and you felt a little flutter in your chest. Interestingly enough, you could also feel your boyfriend's heartbeat under your hand and how fast it was going.

"Oh, that was you! Teacake, is it? Well thank you for that, that dish just isn't the same without it." You smiled warmly at him, your still slightly red cheeks from exertion pushing up and making the corner of your eyes wrinkle.

Travis looked at you like you were the kindest and softest person he ever met. "You're welcome," he simply said, a dazed little smile on his face.

Keys smirked again and pulled you back toward his place. "Anyway, see you around, T."

****

They started hanging out together after that when Travis had shown interest in a game he saw Keys bring home and the latter invited him in to watch. Some nights, when you came over to Keys' place, Travis would be there. The blonde man had even started waking up a bit earlier before work in favor of going to sleep earlier as well, just so they could hang out.

Most of the time, Keys was playing a video game, or cooking while waiting for you, and Travis was happy just looking at him and talking, sometimes briefly assisting him.

Once Keys figured out that he was truly harmless and indeed golden-retriever-puppy-like, he became pretty good friends with Travis. Walter was usually a nice, polite man that didn't talk that much, so he enjoyed how easy it felt with someone like Travis who seemed like they just couldn't stop the words from coming out.

And the more it went on, the more Keys loosened up – he found himself explaining gaming lore to a clueless Travis, telling him what extensions he was waiting on snatching up, and what a good game to start getting into the whole thing would be. Travis would ask so many questions, completely absorbed, until it was his turn and he'd tell Keys all about the book he was reading.

The whole dynamic worked. And you noticed it.

The way Travis' gaze would roam over Keys when he thought neither of you were looking. The way Keys would squeeze the other man's shoulder when he left for work, something he never did with his other friends.

And then, you noticed Travis looking at you, too. It made you feel hot all over. You loved your boyfriend - Keys satisfied you completely and he was so loving and caring – but you couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to add the slightly bulkier man to the mix. Especially since you thought that Keys might have been into him as well, even though he had never once admitted his bicuriosity. As his very perceptive girlfriend, you just kind of knew.

One night, while you were on your way over to Keys' place, he was making risotto for you both while chatting with Travis. The blonde man saw a new figurine on Keys' windowsill, and recognition flashed in his eyes. He speed-walked toward it.

"Oh my god! That's... I don't know his name. But yeah, I remember this dude. A guy I used to fuck had the same exact one. Huh." Travis kept looking at the figurine, hands on his hips, back facing Keys, unaware that he just sent the slightly younger man into a spiral.

Keys stopped stirring the risotto for a few seconds, taken aback by Travis' casual comment. And then, because he didn't want to seem like he was surprised because he had always valued himself as an ally, he started stirring again. "O-oh yeah?" His voice came out shaky.

"Yeah! I mean, this guy was like, obsessed with stuff like that. Pretty nerdy. Kind of like you."

Keys choked and Travis turned, brows furrowed, before quickly reaching Keys and stroking his back in concern. Walter was coughing and wheezing, and Travis' warm hand on his back did not help how red his face and ears were getting.

"Hey, man. You okay? Let me get you some water," Travis said before getting into action.

Once Keys had settled and was back to monitoring the risotto's thickness, Travis spoke again. "You didn't know, huh?"

Keys glanced at Travis – who was leaning his cocked hip against the counter – before looking back into the safety of the softening rice. "Know what?"

"That I'm bi? It's actually kinda shockin' you hadn’t figured it out before, since you're supposedly a genius or whatever." He smirked and motioned toward his earrings, as if that was irrefutable proof, when Keys glanced toward him again with a scowl.

"I... I don't know. S'not really my business." Keys shrugged. "But I don't mind! It's totally fine, you know?"

Travis smiled and nodded.

Before he could say anything though, he heard the door open and you stepping into the apartment. You noticed Travis' shoes in the entry way, so you called out to them. "Hey guys!"

You greeted them both – Travis with a friendly hug and Keys with a soft kiss – and you insisted that the blonde man stay for dinner and to hang out after. It was his night off, after all.

After dinner – which was incredibly tasty and peppery – the three of you were sitting on the couch, watching a movie. Keys was laying on the L part of it, legs extended, with you tucked into his side. His arm was wrapped around you as your head laid on his shoulder, your back almost pressed to the armrest. Travis was on the other side, resting on the arm of the couch, a safe distance away. The whole atmosphere was cozy – the only light came from the TV and from a floor lamp that emitted a soft pink glow.

You had a blanket over Keys and yourself. All throughout the movie – which Keys was utterly focussed on – you kept making subtle eye contact with Travis. Every time, the two of you would offer each other a small smile and look back at the movie. At one point though, you saw how Travis' gaze seemed to roam over you... and Keys.

It started innocently enough. A few kisses on your boyfriend's neck where you could reach, your hand getting higher and higher on his thigh. You grazed his half-hard length over his sweats and his hand shot out to grab your wrist – not forcefully, just keeping you from continuing. He shot you a confused look before subtly tilting his head toward Travis. You smirked and shrugged, before starting your soft assault on his neck again.

You hummed and bit the skin gently before soothing over it with your tongue. The sound made Travis turn his head toward you and Keys, and he just couldn’t look away. The way you were basically making out with your boyfriend’s soft skin, and how your leg was coming up over his, and how the blanket was slowly falling away to reveal your smooth thighs in those pajama shorts.

Keys let his head rest against the back of the couch as he stopped holding your wrist, letting you do what you wanted. You straddled his hips – nothing too intense just yet – before you leaned down to whisper in his ear. "I think your friend might want a little show... you wanna do that?" The little tug on the hair at the base of his neck told him how turned on you were, but you were still giving him space to decide if it was something he also wanted. It made his heart ache – the consideration – as his hands grabbed your hips and started making you grind on top of him. You whined, burying your face in his neck, hidden from his and the other man's gaze.

Keys then dared to look toward Travis – his pupils completely overtook his irises from the sight. Travis was alternating looking at you, and then at Keys, his mouth slightly open in arousal. His big hand rested over his tented crotch, applying slight pressure. He jerked his chin, giving Keys his blessing to keep going in an unnervingly silent gesture for a man who usually couldn’t stop talking.

Your boyfriend slipped his hands beneath your shirt, his slightly cold fingers making goosebumps rise on the overheated skin of your sides. You pulled back from his neck and you reached for the hem of your shirt. Before you could pull it off, Keys stopped you gently. "You sure about this, Petal?"

You looked at him tenderly, and then at Travis. The latter looked wrecked, his eyes locking onto yours. You kept your gaze on him as you smirked and nodded, before fully pulling off your shirt. Your bare breasts squished together slightly as you brought your hands back on Keys' shoulders. The cold AC air kissed your skin and made your nipples harden and feel sensitive.

Keys didn’t take long to warm them with his breath as he took the left one into his mouth, lavishing his tongue over it as his hands were on your waist. “Fuck, baby…” You moaned, your fingers burying in his hair to tug lightly just like you knew he loved.

It earned a deep groan out of him. He kept worshipping your breasts with his tongue and his hands and his fingers and his teeth, while you kept grinding against his bulge. You were so lost in it that you didn’t notice that Travis had taken his cock out and had started to stroke himself slowly, watching your sinful dance closely. It’s his voice that pulled you back into the moment, making you look at him. “You like that, sweetheart? Your boyfriend makin’ you feel good?”

You whined and nodded, maintaining eye contact with the blonde man as he bit his bottom lip. He smirked and shook his head. “Words, baby. Tell us.”

Holy fuck. Your mind was impossibly hazy, already cock-drunk even though you hadn’t gotten to even taste one already. “S’good…” You slurred.

Keys chuckled and pulled back from your chest, looking up at you reverently as his hands grabbed your thighs. “Oh, honey… you like it that much?”

You looked back down at him and nodded, your eyes wide and glistening in the low pinkish light. His thumb pressed over your clit through your shorts and undies, and he felt how you were starting to soak through both layers. “Jesus, baby… you’re completely soaked.”

Travis groaned as his head fell back, his wrist accelerating the motion over his cock at the thought of getting to taste you. He knew that wouldn’t happen though. Not tonight, at least.

Keys removed you off his lap and guided you to lay back down on the couch, at the end of the L part of it. He kneeled in front of you, before hooking his fingers in the waistbands of your shorts and panties and taking them off. Your legs instinctively spread for him, and his hands found the back of your knees to hold them up. He blew a stream of cold air on your slick folds, making you clench around nothing. “Please, baby…”

He smirked, before kissing your inner thigh up to the crease of your hip. “Please what, honey?”

“Y-your mouth…” You managed to ask. And he was a weak man when you begged for him like that.

Keys placed a few delicate kisses on your belly, before he reached your center and started by tracing your folds with the tip of his nose. “You smell so perfect, gorgeous.” And then his mouth was on you – hot and wet. He licked broad stripes, gathering your arousal on his tongue before focusing his attention on your swollen clit.

Travis couldn’t really see your pussy from his vantage point, which would have made him frustrated if the sight he had instead wasn’t straight liquid sin. He couldn’t stop looking at how your back arched off the couch, accentuating the curve of your waist and showing off those perfect breasts of yours. The pink lighting made every valley deeper and every swell softer. Your perked nipples and the surrounding plush skin still looked slightly wet from Keys’ earlier worship. When he managed to shift his gaze down to the man between your legs, his breath hitched.

Keys was looking at him. While he was eating you out. His eyes were roaming over Travis, stopping on his throbbing cock being slicked by all the precum he was leaking. And when Travis noticed, he smirked. Because he finally had the confirmation that maybe his attraction toward his neighbor wasn’t as unreciprocated as he had thought.

Their eyes met – Keys looking completely pussy-drunk while you tugged on his hair, and Travis completely entranced by the display of lust before him.

The coil in your stomach was getting tighter, but you needed more. You turned your head to the side, taking in how Travis looked ready to pounce into the scene – even though he wouldn’t without Keys’ approval – and then you looked back down at your boyfriend. “B-baby?” Your voice came in shaky, through soft whines.

Keys pulled back and looked up at you with a dazed little smile. “Yeah, Petal?”

Your cheeks flushed. “Can I…?” You gestured toward Travis with your head. You couldn’t have known if he would be okay with it, but you hoped. You knew he would have been okay with a threesome with another girl after a night of drunken confessions had revealed some fantasies of yours, but with another man? That was new territory.

What you didn’t expect was for your boyfriend’s smirk to turn downright devilish. The expression was something you had never really seen coming from him – your usually caring and borderline submissive boyfriend. In reality, the idea of you being so completely his that you had to ask for his permission, and that he would be the one to decide how Travis could touch you, was one that turned him on immensely. He was definitely learning things about himself. “Aww, sweet thing… Trav, I think my girl wants to suck your cock. What do you think? Should I let her?”

Travis chuckled and scooted closer to you. “Man… I mean, if you let me touch her, I definitely won’t complain. But only if you don’t mind, of course.”

Keys let go of one of your thighs to bring his fingers to your pussy, the pads circling your entrance before he sunk two in. You arched your back and moaned his name. “Go on, man. If that’s what she wants. She’s real good at it,” he said before wrapping his lips around your aching nub and sucking it softly into his mouth.

Travis swallowed thickly before he knelt next to your head. His hand came up and brushed a strand of hair away from your face, achingly gentle. “You sure you want this, sweetheart?”

“Yes, Travis… please.” Your mouth opened and you stuck your tongue out for him. How could he say no to that?

He kept one hand on the side of your face, his thumb rubbing at the joint of your jaw. The tip of his cock – a gorgeous angry red, shiny with precum – reached your lips as he grabbed the base of it with his free hand. He tapped the tip against your tongue a few times before he slowly started feeding you his length.

You hummed around him, your lips wrapping around the head as your tongue twirled around it. You kept looking up at him with your wide, pleading eyes. His voice came out lower – wrecked from lust and want. “Fuck, K-Keys… you weren’t kidding, Jesus. Your mouth is insane, Babygirl. Feels soooo good. Yeah, that’s it. Use your tongue just like that. Good girl.”

Your eyes rolled back at the praise, your jaw growing slack as Travis thrusted shallowly into your mouth. He was panting and letting out gorgeous moans, an endless river of praise and grateful comments escaping him, as Keys kept fingering and eating you out. Your boyfriend could feel how your walls were tightening around his fingers, and how you were gushing so much he could feel it trickling down to his wrist. He kept looking at you take his neighbor’s cock so well, and it made his own leak a constant stream of precum in his boxers. He pulled back to speak as he kept fucking you with his long and skilled digits. “Shit, honey… you’re getting so wet. You really like sucking his dick, huh?”

You hummed and nodded as much as you could, your hand that was still in Keys’ hair pulling on it to try and get him to resume his movements on your pussy. He chuckled and gave in, his tongue drawing lazy and wide circles as his fingers pushed up into you, exactly the way he knew would get you to come. “Come on, sweets. Mmph… show us how much you like it,” he mumbled against your folds.

Travis was looking closely at Keys’ movements between your legs, wanting to learn exactly how you liked to be touched. He saw the muscles and tendons of your legs tightening as Keys played you like you were his most cherished instrument, and his hips gave a slightly harsher thrust into your mouth. You gagged around him, your throat constricting and squeezing his tip. He moaned loudly and pulled back, letting you breathe as he rubbed your cheek and caught the tears that were slipping out. “Fuck, I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to go that deep, baby. Y’okay?”

You just looked up at him, completely drunk off your mouth being used and your boyfriend between your legs. You moaned as you shattered around your boyfriend’s fingers, your hips rolling against his hand and his face as you rode out your orgasm. Travis looked at your face the whole time, his thumb still rubbing the side of it as his other hand stroked his cock. “Yeah, there you go. Let it all out, Babygirl. God, you’re so fuckin’ hot, s’unfair.”

Keys pulled back, slowing his fingers as he felt the last weakening twitches of your walls squeeze his fingers. “She is, isn’t she?” He kissed the inside of your calf up to your ankle before finally taking his fingers out of you. They glistened with your cum in the pink light, and Travis’ gaze was immediately drawn to them. How long they were, and surprisingly thicker than one would expect – probably from hours and hours of playing videogames and typing on a keyboard. They literally shined with your essence. His mouth watered.

Keys noticed and he presented his fingers to the blonde man. “Want a taste, Trav? She’s so sweet.” He expected the man to gather some wetness on his own finger to lick it. What he didn’t expect was for Travis to bend down and take his fingers in his mouth, looking up at him with his big hazel eyes as his flicking tongue licked them clean, a pleased hum vibrating around them.

Your boyfriend stayed frozen, his dick twitching violently in his jeans as he looked at the other man. He let it last a few seconds, his grip tightening on your ankle before he pulled his fingers out of Travis’ mouth. He swallowed hard before looking down at you, his ears completely pink. He felt as though he had done something wrong, something he should feel guilty about, and he expected to see you mad.

God, you weren’t. Your hand was between your legs, rubbing circles over your clit as you had watched the interaction between the two men with rapt attention. “F-fuck…” You moaned, your back arching as you felt painfully empty just looking at them like that.

Keys quickly undid his jeans, taking his cock out as he tried to forget what had just happened and how ridiculously turned on it had made him. “Scoot up, baby. Need to be inside you.”

You obeyed and managed to push yourself a bit further up on the couch, enough so that Keys could kneel between your legs and tease your folds with his tip, mixing your arousal with his precum. “Fuck, you look so fucking good, Petal. So perfect for… us.” He said as he pushed all the way in, giving you no time to get used to the stretch. It made you cry out in pleasure.

Travis had moved with you both, going back to kneel next to your head as he kept stroking his painfully hard cock. It didn’t take long for you to take him back in your mouth, and for him to keep showering you with praise. “O-oh yeah, like that. So fuckin’ good, baby. You like that? Takin’ both our cocks at the same time, huh? Bet you feel so fuckin’ full, Babygirl. Jesus, you look perfect like this.”

Keys leaned over you, his hands resting on the cushion on either side of your waist as he rolled his hips deep and hard. His hair was hanging in his face slightly, his mouth open as he kept moaning and whimpering every time you clenched around him. He couldn’t stop looking at how well you sucked Travis’ cock, and at how well your pussy was taking his. He brought one of his hands to your clit and started circling it. “Shit, Petal… Come for us, come on. Give it to us.”

Travis felt the elastic in his lower back tighten before you, and he started thrusting sloppily into your mouth, making you gag around him. “Fuuuuck, I’m gonna come. W-where do you want it, baby?” You didn’t want to stop to answer, so you wrapped your arm around his hips to signal to him that you didn’t want him to pull out.

He came with a loud groan down your throat, his hips twitching as he rolled them sinfully, milking himself into you. You hummed around him, and the whole of it – the taste, being used, your boyfriend fucking you and stimulating you just right – it all catapulted you toward your end as well. You gasped and moaned loudly as Travis pulled out of your mouth, his hands cradling your face gently as waves and waves of pleasure tore through your body. Your hands came up to hold onto Travis’ wrists to ride it out.

Keys’ own hips started to stutter as he felt you come around his cock, and he buried himself deep to release inside you. He could feel that he was coming a lot – his spend gushing back out of you around the base of his cock – but he couldn’t care less. “Oh god, baby…” He collapsed on top of you, kissing your chest reverently as he shallowly thrusted his softening length inside you, something you both usually enjoyed in the aftermath.

Travis let you both embrace as he sat back on the couch, completely spent. “Damn, that was… really somethin’.”

Keys chuckled and lifted his head from your neck to glance at him. “Y-yeah? Don’t tell me your speechless now,” he teased, a soft smirk on his sweaty face.

Travis laughed as well, before he got up. “Let me go get you guys a towel or somethin’.”

****

Keys and you debriefed after that first night and you both agreed that you had enjoyed it quite a lot. You explained to him that it had been a fantasy of yours, and he tried to articulate how he had loved sharing you, even if he didn’t fully understand why. You also made a casual comment about how hot you found two guys being together. It was a throwaway comment, so he didn’t answer, but his ears grew pink.

The next time it happened was about a week later. You had talked with Travis about it – if he wanted it to happen again – and of course he had accepted. For him, being intimate with both a man and a woman felt like everything he ever wished for in life – his holy grail. Of course, he didn’t know if Keys wanted to do stuff with him too, but the way he hadn’t immediately recoiled when he had sucked his fingers told him that maybe there was a chance.

So that’s how you ended up here, your back to Travis’ chest as he reclined on the headboard of Keys’ bed. You were laying back on him between his legs, your own spread wide as his rigid length pressed against your lower back. The blonde man’s hands were grabbing your tits and rolling your nipples between his thumbs and index fingers, his mouth trailing sloppy kisses down the side of your neck. As for Keys, his cock was moving in and out of you as he fucked you slowly, his eyes drinking in the sight of you completely fucked out between the both of them.

You heard Travis speak just behind your ear. “Feels good, baby? Do you like how good your boyfriend’s cock feels inside you?”

You whined and nodded, your hips bucking up to meet his thrusts. Travis hooked one of his legs over yours to stop your movements. “Nuh-huh, Babygirl… gotta take it like a good girl, yeah? You’re being so good for us, don’t start now, mm?”

You nodded and stopped your movements, soft mewls and whines coming out of you as you kept looking at Keys slowly fucking into you. “There you go. S’not so hard, huh?” Travis’ hand left your breast to brush down your stomach before he found your swollen and slick nub. It slotted perfectly between his fingers as he started drawing slow circles over it. “Just let us take care of you, s’all we want. Right, Keys? Don’t we want to make her feel good?”

Keys nodded as he kept his slow pace. “Exactly, Trav.”

Your head fell back against his shoulder, letting the dual sensation wash over you. But they were going just slow enough for it to have you feeling fucked out but not enough to come. And they both knew it.

Travis was looking at Keys, and their eyes met before the man wearing glasses looked back down at your face. The blonde man’s hand started going lower toward your entrance – which was getting split open by Keys’ cock – and his fingers spread between his index and middle one to frame it. And then, they made contact with Keys’ length as it dragged in and out of your wet warmth.

Keys looked up again to Travis, who knew exactly what he was doing, and his hips stuttered. He felt his ears grow pink, but he couldn’t deny how much he liked it. He started picking up the pace, his hands tightening where they were gripping you on your body. “Fuck, yeah…” He groaned. “Just like that.”

You could feel what was happening and it made you clench hard around your boyfriend’s dick, the palm of Travis’ hand rubbing deliciously against your clit. “I’m… so close…” You whined.

Travis cooed and bit your shoulder gently. “Yeah, Babygirl? Wanna come all over Keys’ cock?”

His fingers tightened around the other man’s shaft, making him hiss and whimper, his head falling backwards as he looked up at the ceiling. “Jesus Christ… come on, Petal. Let go, baby. We’ve got you,” he moaned, his eyes falling back to look into your fucked-out ones.

You shattered completely, your orgasm moving like molten sugar through your limbs. “K-Keys! Fuck... Trav…” You kept moaning both of their names as they helped you ride it out – the two men completely focused on making it good for you. Travis was praising you – his mouth rambling like it usually does – between soft kisses to your skin he could reach.

Keys slowed his thrusts and pulled out of you – he had no idea how he managed not to come as he felt Travis’ fingers graze his tip – before shifting back and leaning over you, kissing your stomach sweetly. “Love you so much, honey. You’re perfect.”

The pair let you catch your breath for a second, before you realized that you were the only one that had reached your peak. Oh, that simply wouldn’t do.

You shuffled out of their grasp to kneel on the floor. “Can I suck both of you off?”

Travis chuckled as he took a pillow from the bed and gave it to you to kneel onto. As you shifted onto it, Keys spoke up as he stood in front of you with Travis. “I don’t know, Petal…” His hand came up to cup your face, his thumb brushing your lower lip. “Can you?”

You huffed and rolled your eyes before looking back up at the both of them, their hard lengths bobbing in your face. “May I? Please?”

“Of course, sweetheart.” You didn’t hesitate. You took them in your hands, stroking them and twisting your wrist with every motion. You first took Keys’ cock in your mouth, twirling your tongue around him and using just the slightest bit of teeth on his head, just like you knew he liked. “Fuck, that’s it, honey. Always so g-good with your mouth.”

He got so lost in it that he didn’t register how Travis was now pressed to his side until the older man’s arm wrapped around his waist, his hand splaying out on Keys’ hip. But he didn’t care – not when you felt this good around him and when his hand was buried in your hair, holding on for dear life.

You then pulled back and took Travis’ cock in your mouth as you kept stroking Keys’. You opened your mouth wider while you bobbed your head, letting spit fall out onto him, knowing how the blonde man enjoyed a messier blowjob from some of the filthy conversations you had had in between your encounters. “Jeeeesus Christ. Fuck me, baby. Can’t believe you’re doin’ this t’me. Feels so fucking good, so warm…” He turned to Keys, his gaze fixing on his mouth. “Fuck… Thank you, man.”

Keys’ eyes dropped to the other man’s lips, his tongue darting to subconsciously lick his own bottom one. He didn’t know what came over him, but he leaned in, and Travis met him halfway.

Their lips met in a heated kiss – not gentle in the slightest. Keys hummed as he sucked and nipped at Travis’ lower lip, and the other man parted his lips. It turned deep quickly, Travis’ hand fisting into the nerdy man’s tousled hair and pulling him closer, his nose bumping into the frame of his glasses.

You pulled back from Travis’ cock and took in the sight, completely mesmerized as the two men made out over you. You could feel your arousal pool between your legs again, dripping down your thigh. “Fuck, you look so hot…” You took Keys back in your mouth and you felt him twitch, his hand back in your hair as he shallowly thrusted in and out. Once, twice… and then he came down your throat. He gasped, pulling back from kissing Travis and looking down at you, his mouth open in pure ecstasy. “F-fuck, baby!” He moaned your name as you swallowed everything he gave you, tears blooming at the corners of your eyes and falling down your cheeks.

He pulled out of your mouth, his cock softening as he reached down and grabbed your elbows to bring you back up to your feet. He kissed you fiercely, his hands almost shaking as he held your face. “I love you so much, Petal.”

You beamed and giggled. “I love you too, baby… it was so hot looking at you kiss like that.”

He smiled, his cheeks turning red from embarrassment and lingering arousal. “Yeah?”

You nodded before looking at Travis. “And you, sir, still didn’t get to come…”

Travis smirked, his hand wrapping around his cock as he looked over at Keys, then back at you. “And do you have somethin’ in mind to help? I’ll take anythin’ I can get, Babygirl.”

You looked at your boyfriend with pleading eyes. “Baby… May he fuck me, too?”

Keys’ mouth pulled into a smile before he nodded, motioning toward the bed. “’Course, Petal. How do you want him?”

You squealed and reached for Travis’ hand, pulling him toward the bed. You pushed him down on his back before you straddled his hips, taking a hold of his rigid shaft and teasing the tip between your folds. His hands found your hips as you sank down on him, his eyes drinking you in greedily as you both moaned in unison. Your head fell back before you felt your boyfriend’s hand cradle it gently. “That’s it, baby… ride him like that. Show him how amazing it feels to worship you.”

You started grinding down on him, chasing your own pleasure as Travis looked up at you in awe. His grip on your hips kept tightening and loosening, his own slowly meeting your movements and intensifying your bliss. “Holy fuck, sweetheart… you’re a goddess like this. Look at you, oh my God… I’ve been dreamin’ of this since I saw you grind on him that first night, wishin’ it was me under you, just like this. Fuck, you’re drivin’ me insane.”

“Feel so good inside me, Trav. S-so deep- oh!” Keys was now kneeling next to you and his fingers we’re circling your clit, not caring when the tips of them caught onto Travis’ cock or when the backs of them felt his coarse bush with each of your thrusts.

“Come on, Petal. You gonna come all over his cock, mm? Show him how good you’re feeling right now?” He whispered against your ear, his warm breath sending a shiver down your spine.

You nodded vigorously, the pressure in your lower stomach building sharply until it tore through you. “Y-yes! I’m coming! Fuuuuck!”

Travis kept your tired hips moving back and forth with his hands as he kept bucking up into you. “Sh-shit, Keys, can I come inside her?” The rhythmic spasming of your walls was proving to be too much for him.

The man pushed up his glasses and nodded – eyes almost watery from how beautiful he thought you looked in that moment of pure liquid pleasure. “Y-yeah, fill her up.”

“Thank you. Holy shit, thank you, baby! Fuck!” He shot rope after rope inside you, painting your insides white as you collapsed forward onto his chest. His arms immediately wrapped around you and held you to him, his stomach still tensing from the pleasure slowly dying down. He whimpered loudly under you as he came back down from his high.

His deep breathing made you rise and lower softly on his chest, his lips pressing against your temple gently. “You okay, sweetheart?”

You sighed happily and nodded, burying your face deeper in the hair on his pecs. Travis smiled softly as he looked up at Keys, who was lovingly brushing his fingers through your hair.

Your boyfriend spoke up then. “You did so good for us, Petal. So perfect.” Travis hummed in agreement.

They both helped you get up on your wobbly legs, leading you toward Keys’ bathroom. They took turn gently washing you in the shower, their hands soaping up your wet skin and erasing the traces of lust and possessiveness from the evening. Well, the ones they could erase.

Once you were dried and dressed – in your panties and Travis’ shirt – and once they also were, you all laid down on Keys’ bed. Your boyfriend was on his back, your head laying on his chest and your leg over his, while Travis spooned you from the back, his arm resting over your waist and his hand splaying on Keys’ belly.

It felt so easy – you sandwiched between them, warm and safe and satisfied – as your boyfriend looked like he had finally gotten to explore a side of himself he never thought he would before. He smiled at you lovingly, kissing your forehead and squeezing your shoulder as his free hand intertwined with the blonde man’s hand on his stomach.

Travis kissed the nape of your neck as he squeezed Keys’ hand, and then he spoke up, the low lighting giving him courage as if he was a child believing a blanket could protect him from monsters. “I uh… this feels really special to me. You both, I mean. S’not just sex, or whatever. Feels deeper than that. Like you both have accepted me for who I am and welcomed me in and-“ He huffed softly. “I care about you guys a lot.”

You looked up at Keys, and the way his eyes were soft and swimming with recognition gave you all the answers you needed. You turned in his grasp, facing Travis to cup his cheek as Keys pressed himself against your back. “We care about you too, Trav.”

Your boyfriend nodded as he looked at him over your shoulder. “We do…”

You kissed him softly and he melted into you. This was enough for now – the quiet realization washing over you three that maybe, even if it was unconventional, this could simply… work.

A/N : I decided to keep my taglist general for all my work like it was supposed to be originally, so I'm really sorry if you only wanted to be tagged in the second part of Anonymous help! You can always comment or dm me if you want to be taken off, no hard feelings! 💜

Taglist :

By the time the bathroom light flickers on above him, buzzing faintly in the silence, everyone else is already gone or close enough to it. Hopper has driven Dustin home with a hoodie shoved under the kid's nose to stop the bleeding. Nancy has taken Robin to get her wrist looked at properly, despite Robin insisting with increasingly thin patience that it was fine, no, seriously, Wheeler, she was pretty sure bones were supposed to look like that. Max had stood in the hallway for twenty minutes refusing to leave until she knew everybody else had, arms crossed hard over her chest, mouth set in that stubborn line she wore whenever she was scared and furious about it.

And Steve had let all of it happen around him.

He had nodded when people spoke. Had answered questions when someone needed him to. Had said, yeah, yeah, I'm good, with enough convincing exhaustion that nobody argued with him for long. He had watched the house slowly empty, listened to car doors slam out on the street, heard voices fade into the thick summer night until the only thing left was the hum of the bathroom light and the sound of you turning on the tap.

Now he sits on the closed toilet lid in your bathroom with his jacket still on, one elbow braced against his knee, one hand hanging uselessly between his legs. His shoulders are hunched like he's waiting to be hit again. His hair is a mess, sweat-damp at the roots and pushed back from his forehead in a way that would normally make you tease him, except nothing about him looks funny right now. He looks too still. That is the thing that unsettles you most. Steve is never still like this, not really. Even when he's quiet, there is usually some restless little sign of life in him, fingers tapping against a counter, knee bouncing under the table, mouth pulling into a half-smile before he has even decided whether he means it.

Tonight, he looks as though the smallest movement might make something in him come loose.

You stand in front of him with a clean flannel dampened under warm water, trying to decide where to start.

His knuckles, probably. They are the easiest thing to fix.

"Give me your hand," you say softly.

For a second, you think he hasn't heard you. Then his eyes lift, unfocused, and he looks at you like he's returned from somewhere much further away than the bathroom floor.

"What?"

"Your hand." You repeat gently, holding yours out between you. "Let me clean it."

Steve looks down at his own fingers as if he's only just noticed them. There is dried blood caught in the creases, rust-coloured under his nails, smeared across the back of his hand where he'd wiped it thoughtlessly against his jeans and made everything worse. His mouth tightens.

"It's not mine."

"I know."

Something fast and ugly flickers across his face before he lets you take his hand.

You kneel in front of him because there is nowhere else to sit, settling carefully on the tiled floor between his feet. He doesn't make the joke he might have made on any other night. Doesn't say something stupid about you being on your knees for him, doesn't raise an eyebrow, doesn't reach out to tug fondly at your sleeve. He just watches as you cradle his hand in both of yours and begin wiping the blood away.

The first pass of the flannel turns pink. Steve stares at it.

You work slowly, partly because his skin is split and swollen in places, but mostly because you don't know what else to do with all the silence. It sits heavily around you, filling the bathroom until the room feels too small for the two of you and whatever Steve has brought back with him. You clean between his fingers, then across the bruised rise of his knuckles, then underneath each nail as carefully as you can manage. Every so often his hand twitches, not quite a flinch, but near enough that you pause and glance up at him.

"Sorry," he says automatically.

"You don't have to be sorry."

His eyes drop back to your hands. "Yeah."

The word means nothing. It is just sound. A shape his mouth knows how to make.

You rinse the flannel in the sink and return to him, taking his other hand. This one is cleaner, though his palm is scraped badly near the heel, skin roughened and angry where he'd caught himself against the pavement. You remember seeing him stumble. Remember the horrible jerk in your chest when he went down and the immediate relief, almost painful in its sharpness, when he got back up.

You had thought, then, that the fear would leave once everyone was safe.

It hasn't. It has only changed form.

Steve inhales, slow and uneven. "I should've seen him."

Your fingers still around his wrist. "What?"

His gaze remains fixed somewhere past your shoulder, on the towel rail or the wall behind you or maybe nothing at all. "The guy. The one who grabbed Robin."

"Steve."

"I should've seen him." His voice is quiet. Worse than if he were angry. Worse than if he were shouting. "He came from my left. I knew there was someone there."

"You were trying to get Dustin behind you."

"I know."

"You were trying to keep three different people from getting hit."

"I know."

"Then you couldn't have-"

"I should've."

The interruption is not loud, but it lands hard enough to close your mouth. Steve still doesn't look at you. His jaw works once, a muscle jumping near the hinge, and for the first time all night you realise he is not calm. He is holding himself so tightly that calm is simply the shape it has taken from the outside.

You set the flannel aside. "Robin's going to be okay."

"I know."

"Dustin's okay."

"I know."

"I'm okay."

His eyes move to yours then, and there's something in them that makes your throat tighten before he even speaks.

"You almost weren't."

The bathroom feels suddenly colder despite the heat still trapped in the walls from the day. Outside, a car passes slowly down the street, headlights sliding briefly through the frosted window before disappearing again.

You shift closer on your knees, ignoring the ache beginning to bloom in them against the tile. "But I am."

Steve looks at you for a long moment, and you can see him trying to accept the sentence. You can actually see the effort of it. His eyes move across your face with the same frantic attention he had carried all evening, checking you in pieces: forehead, cheekbone, mouth, throat, shoulders. Looking for damage. Looking for proof. Looking, maybe, for some version of events he can survive remembering.

"Steve," you say softly.

His lashes lower. "I just stood there."

"No, you didn't."

"I froze."

"You turned around."

"Too late."

"You got to us."

"After."

The word comes out scraped raw.

You reach for his face before thinking better of it, your fingers brushing the line of his jaw. He is warm under your touch, too warm, flushed from adrenaline and exhaustion and whatever else is still burning through him. For one brief second he leans into it. Then he seems to realise he has done it and pulls back half an inch, not away from you exactly, but away from comfort, as though he doesn't think he has earned it.

That hurts more than you expect.

"Hey," you whisper.

He shakes his head.

"I keep seeing it." His voice breaks slightly on the last word, and he clears his throat like he can force it back into place. "I keep seeing him reach for you. And I keep thinking, if Robin hadn't-"

"Don't."

"She got hurt because I didn't move fast enough."

"Robin got hurt because some asshole hurt her."

Steve lets out a humourless little laugh. "Yeah, well."

"No." Your hand tightens gently against his cheek, not enough to force him, just enough to ask him to stay with you. "No, listen to me. That is not yours to carry."

He finally looks at you properly, and the expression on his face is so young for a moment that it steals the breath straight from your chest.

Steve Harrington, who has spent years placing himself between other people and whatever wants to hurt them. Steve Harrington, who has turned his body into a shield so often that everyone has almost stopped recognising it as a choice. Steve Harrington, who can take a punch, swing a bat, crack a joke with blood in his mouth, and then sit in your bathroom afterwards looking shattered because somebody else got hurt in the same room as him.

"Feels like it is," he says.

You don't know what to say to that. Not because he's right, but because the feeling in his voice is too old to be argued out of him in one conversation. You understand, suddenly and terribly, that this is not just about tonight. It is about the Demogorgon in the Byers' living room. The tunnels. The junkyard. Starcourt. Every locked door, every scream, every time a child had looked at him like he was supposed to know what to do next. It is about all the years Steve has been terrified and useful at the same time, and how nobody ever told him those were not the same thing as being responsible.

So instead of arguing, you rise onto your knees and wrap your arms around his neck.

For a second, he doesn't move.

Then he folds.

Not in some great collapse. He simply leans forward until his face is pressed against your shoulder and both of his arms have gone around your waist, tight enough that you feel the desperation in it. His breath leaves him in a long, unsteady exhale. One hand fists in the back of your shirt.

You hold him.

The bathroom tile digs into your shins, the tap drips once into the sink, and Steve clings to you like something still might reach through the wall and take you if he loosens his grip.

"I'm right here," you murmur into his hair.

"I know."

"You got me home."

"I know."

"You always do."

His arms tighten.

For a while, neither of you says anything else.

By the time Steve finally lets you pull him up from the bathroom and into bed, the house has settled into the strange quiet that only comes after something frightening has passed and left everything else untouched. The lamp on your bedside table paints the room in low yellow light. His jacket ends up on the floor, his jeans folded badly over the chair because he insists he's fine, he can do it himself, then stands there for nearly thirty seconds holding them without moving until you take them gently from his hands.

He doesn't argue when you give him one of the clean T-shirts he keeps in your drawer. He doesn't make the soft, pleased noise he usually makes about the fact that you have a drawer for him now. He just changes, mechanically, and sits on the edge of the bed with his head bowed while you turn off the overhead light.

When you crawl under the covers, he comes with you, though even then he seems uncertain what to do with himself. Usually, Steve reaches for you first. Usually, he tugs you back against his chest or lets his head fall heavily into your lap until you laugh and tell him he is crushing you. Tonight, he lies on his back with one arm bent over his stomach, eyes open, staring at the ceiling.

You turn onto your side to face him. "Steve."

"Hm?"

"Come here."

He exhales softly through his nose. "I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't."

"You sure?"

It is such a ridiculous question, asked with such quiet sincerity, that your heart almost breaks cleanly in two.

"I'm sure."

Only then does he move. Slowly, carefully, as though your body might be bruised somewhere he has missed, he turns onto his side and lets you fit yourself against him. His arm comes around you, tentative at first, then firmer when you tuck your face beneath his chin and press your hand against his chest.

His heart is still beating too fast. You listen to it for a while.

"Can you sleep?" you ask.

"Yeah."

It's an obvious lie. You let it pass.

His fingers move once against your back, a small restless flex. Then again. Then his hand smooths over your shoulder, down your arm, across your ribs, not sensual, not even especially deliberate. Checking. Making sure. Reassuring himself with the shape and warmth of you.

You close your eyes.

For a little while, you let him.

When his hand travels up again and pauses lightly at the base of your skull, you open them.

"Steve."

He goes still. "Sorry."

"Don't apologise."

"Okay." There's a pause. Then, barely audible, he asks, "Is this annoying?"

You could just say no. It would be easier. Kinder, maybe. But there's something fragile in his voice that makes you careful.

"It's not annoying," you say. "But you don't have to keep checking."

His throat moves against your forehead as he swallows. "I know."

There it is again. The empty answer. The one he gives when knowing something has not made him believe it.

You lift your head just enough to look at him.

In the low light, he looks exhausted. Not just tired, not just shaken, but worn down in some deeper place he has probably been ignoring for too long. There is a bruise beginning near his cheekbone, shadowed purple beneath the skin. A small cut sits at the corner of his mouth. His hair, for once, has given up entirely.

"You're allowed to be scared," you tell him.

His eyes flick over your face. "I'm not scared."

"Steve."

His mouth opens, then closes. You watch the lie die before he can make himself say it.

After a moment, he looks away.

"I hate it," he says quietly.

"What?"

"How fast it happens." His eyes stay on the window, on the thin gap in the curtains where the streetlamp outside bleeds gold into the room. "One second everything's fine, and then it's not. And there's no warning, there's no time to think, you just have to-" He stops, jaw tightening. "You just have to be fast enough."

You slide your hand across his chest until your palm rests over his heart. "And nobody is fast enough every time."

Steve closes his eyes. He doesn't answer. The silence that follows feels less like agreement than defeat.

You wish, with a sudden fierceness that almost frightens you, that you could reach inside him and take the thought out by the root. That you could remove every awful equation he keeps making between love and responsibility, between fear and failure, between being there and being enough.

Instead, you kiss the edge of his jaw.

Steve's eyes open.

"You're here," you whisper. "That's what matters."

His gaze searches yours, desperate and disbelieving.

Then he nods once, because he wants it to be true.

And for that night, wanting will have to be enough.

The first time it happens, you almost don't notice.

A few days later, you leave the house together to pick up milk and coffee and the kind of sugary cereal Steve pretends he's buying for Dustin even though Dustin is not there and has never once asked for it. The afternoon is bright and hot, cicadas buzzing somewhere in the trees, the pavement shimmering faintly where sunlight has spent all day collecting in the concrete.

Steve locks your front door behind you. Then checks it. Then checks it again.

You glance back from the bottom step, amused despite yourself. "You expecting it to unlock itself?"

He looks over his shoulder, keys still in hand. "What?"

"The door."

"Oh." He jiggles the handle once more, then steps away. "No. Just making sure."

You smile faintly. "Okay."

It's nothing. People check locks.

Steve has always been a little fussy after bad nights anyway, prone to checking the back seat of his car before letting you get in, prone to insisting you wait inside until he has pulled into the driveway properly, prone to acting like chivalry is a normal personality trait rather than an ongoing attempt to disguise anxiety as manners.

So you don't think much of it when he walks on the roadside of the pavement either.

He's done that before.

You do notice, maybe, that he switches sides when you turn the corner, his hand settling briefly at the small of your back as he guides you inward, away from the traffic. But the gesture is so smooth, so familiar, so easy to mistake for affection, that you let it become that.

In the shop, he stays close.

Close enough that his shoulder brushes yours near the fridges. Close enough that when somebody reaches across you for a carton of juice, Steve's hand appears at your waist before you have time to register the movement.

The man murmurs an apology. Steve smiles politely. Everything is normal - almost.

You look up at him - he is still watching the man walk away.

"Steve."

His attention snaps back to you immediately. "Yeah?"

"You okay?"

"Yeah." Too quick. Then softer, with an attempt at a smile. "Yeah, I'm fine."

You believe him because you want to. Or maybe because it's easier, in that moment, to believe that fear leaves people simply because danger has.

At the till, Steve pays before you can argue, making some throwaway comment about how you paid last time, which is not true but is also not worth disputing while the bored cashier scans cereal and milk and a packet of plasters he slipped into the basket without asking.

On the walk home, his hand finds yours before you reach the first crossing. Again, nothing. Steve holds your hand all the time.

Only this time, his grip tightens when the light changes. Only this time, he looks left and right twice even after the cars have stopped. Only this time, when you reach the opposite pavement safely, he doesn't let go.

You glance down at your joined hands, then up at his face. Steve is looking ahead, expression carefully neutral, thumb moving over the back of your hand in a slow, repetitive stroke.

You say nothing, and his hand stays around yours all the way home.

The thing about habits is that they never arrive announcing themselves.

If Steve had started insisting you never left the house alone again, you would have argued. If he'd refused to let you out of his sight, if he'd demanded you text him every ten minutes or tried to convince you the world had suddenly become too dangerous for ordinary errands, you would have recognised it for what it was.

Instead, it happens quietly. So quietly, in fact, that for the better part of two weeks you mistake it for affection.

It begins with the car.

Steve has always opened your door before walking round to his own side. It isn't performative - not really. Half the time he does it while complaining about how old-fashioned it makes him look, rolling his eyes whenever you tease him about being born in the wrong decade.

Now, though, he doesn't just open the door. He waits until you've climbed in before closing it. Checks your seatbelt is actually clipped. Waits until you've clicked the lock. Only then does he walk around to the driver's side.

The first time, you smile. The fifth, you start noticing.

Then there are the phone calls.

Not clingy or excessive, per se.

Just, "So you got there okay?"

"...Steve, I texted you ten minutes ago."

"I know."

"So why are you calling?"

"...Just wanted to hear your voice."

It's sweet. It really is.

Until one afternoon, you tell him you're popping to the corner shop while he's at work, and by the time you've picked up milk and bread, there's already a missed call waiting for you.

Then another. Then a voicemail.

"Hey... just checking you're alright. Call me when you get this."

Nothing urgent. But when you ring him back, he answers before the first ring has even finished.

"Hey."

"You okay?"

"...Yeah."

"You sounded worried."

"No." A pause. "Just... hadn't heard from you."

"I've been gone twenty minutes."

"I know."

Three weeks after the fight, you're standing in Family Video trying to decide whether the horror section deserves another chance when Robin finally says it.

Steve disappears into the stockroom to hunt down a copy of The Princess Bride for an elderly customer who insists somebody returned it without the case.

Robin waits until the stockroom door swings shut.

Then she looks at you. "...You've noticed it too."

You glance up. "Noticed what?"

"The hovering."

"What hovering?"

She blinks. "The Steve-shaped cloud permanently hanging about three feet behind you?"

You laugh. "He doesn't hover."

Robin simply stares. You look back. Steve is still in the stockroom.

"...Does he?"

"Oh my God." She pinches the bridge of her nose. "I thought you were pretending not to notice."

"Robin."

"He watches every entrance."

You say nothing.

"He always stands closest to the doors now."

You frown. "He didn't used to."

You think back.

Friday. The diner. Steve had insisted on sitting facing the entrance.

Saturday. The cinema. He'd quietly swapped seats with you halfway through the trailers because he'd wanted the aisle.

Yesterday. Bradley's Big Buy. He'd waited outside the changing rooms instead of browsing.

Not strolling or wandering. Waiting, like he'd been expecting something. Something you'd never questioned.

Robin folds another videotape into its sleeve. "I don't think he even realises he's doing it."

"What?"

"He keeps checking where you are."

You laugh again, only this one doesn't come as easily. "I think you're exaggerating."

Robin's expression softens. "I wish I was."

You try not to think about it.

For approximately six hours.

Then Steve offers to walk you to the post office.

It's raining. The post office is literally visible from your front window.

"...Steve."

"What?"

"It's literally there."

"I know."

"I can see it."

"I know."

"It's a two-minute walk."

"I know."

"So..."

"I'll come."

You stare at him. "...Why?"

He shrugs. "I need stamps."

"You hate buying stamps."

"I've... grown."

You burst out laughing. He smiles too, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes.

It gets harder not to notice after that.

Because once Robin has pointed it out, the pattern is everywhere.

Steve always lets you walk in front of him when you're climbing stairs. Not because he's admiring you, but because he wants to see where you're putting your feet.

Whenever somebody walks past too quickly, his hand appears automatically against the small of your back.

When you stop to tie your shoelace in the supermarket, he turns around completely, placing himself between you and everyone else pushing trolleys down the aisle.

You don't even think he knows he's doing it.

The moment that finally unsettles you happens on a Thursday.

It's busy. School's just finished. Half of Hawkins seems to have decided they desperately need cereal and toilet paper at exactly the same time.

You and Steve are arguing over pasta.

"You absolutely cannot tell me every shape tastes the same."

"It literally does."

"It doesn't."

"It does."

"Steve."

"It's wheat."

"It's architecture."

He laughs. "Architecture?"

"You heard me."

You reach up towards the top shelf.

At that moment, someone brushes past you. Nothing unusual, just another shopper.

Before you've even registered the movement, Steve moves.

Not aggressively. Just instantly.

One second he's beside you.

The next he's standing between you and the stranger, one hand finding your elbow as though he'd done it without asking permission from the rest of his body.

The man mutters an absent-minded "Sorry." Keeps walking.

Steve doesn't answer. His eyes follow him. Not suspiciously. Automatically.

Then, slowly, he looks back at you. Realises where he's standing. Realises his hand is still around your arm.

The colour drains from his face. "...Sorry."

You blink. "What?"

"I..." His hand falls away. "I don't know why I..." The sentence dies halfway through.

For the first time since the fight, Steve looks genuinely frightened. Not of the man. Of himself.

The drive home is unusually quiet. Steve keeps both hands fixed at ten and two on the steering wheel. The radio plays quietly between you, but neither of you is listening.

Eventually, you reach over and rest your hand lightly on his arm.

He startles, only slightly, but just enough for you to notice.

"You alright?"

"Yeah."

"You've said 'yeah' or to every question I've asked for the last month."

"I have?"

"Mhm."

"...Sorry."

"Don't apologise, baby."

That earns the smallest smile. Tiny. Gone almost immediately.

That night, after Steve's fallen asleep beside you for the first time in what feels like weeks without jolting awake every hour to check you're still there, you lie awake staring at the ceiling.

Robin's words won't leave you alone.

He keeps checking where you are.

You think about the supermarket. The post office. The seatbelt. The phone calls. The way he always reaches for your hand before crossing roads now. The way he waits outside every public toilet. The way his eyes flick instinctively towards every doorway whenever you enter somewhere new.

None of it had felt controlling. Not once.

It had all felt careful. Painfully, desperately careful.

As though Steve believed the world only needed one tiny opening, and if he looked away at exactly the wrong second, it might happen again.

You turn your head. Steve is asleep on his side, one hand still loosely curled around your wrist above the duvet. Even unconscious, he's holding on.

Your chest aches. Because suddenly you realise something Robin had understood before you did.

Steve isn't trying to stop anything from happening to you.

He's trying to convince himself that if he pays enough attention, nothing ever will.

It happens on a Tuesday.

Not because anything goes wrong.

Because, for the first time in nearly a month, nothing does.

The afternoon settles over Hawkins in that slow, lazy way late August afternoons always seem to, the worst of the heat finally beginning to bleed from the pavements as the sun drifts lower behind the trees. Steve has the day off. You're both halfway through reorganising the shelves in your spare room, though "reorganising" has quickly become an excuse to sit cross-legged on the floor surrounded by old photo albums and cassette tapes you haven't touched in years.

Steve is reading the back of an ancient Ghostbusters VHS with an expression of complete seriousness.

"This says 'high-octane family fun.'"

"It is."

"They're hunting ghosts."

"Very fun ghosts."

"They kill people."

"They don't, actually."

"They try."

"They're bad at it."

He looks up from the back of the VHS, finally abandoning whatever argument he'd been having with the blurb. "You'll defend any film if I give you long enough."

"I absolutely will."

"I know."

The corner of his mouth lifts, small and unguarded, and you find yourself clinging to it more than you'd like to admit. It's the first smile you've seen from him in days that doesn't look like he had to remember how.

"You know," you say, nudging his knee lightly with yours, "I was thinking..."

Steve hums, still turning the tape over in his hands.

"My mum asked if I'd pop over this evening."

"Okay."

"I thought I'd walk."

The smile disappears so quickly you almost wonder if you'd imagined it.

"So I'll probably head off around six?"

His eyes lift to yours. "I'll drive you."

"You don't have to."

"I know."

"It's literally twenty minutes."

"I know."

"It's still light."

"I know."

You watch him for a moment. He simply watches you back.

"...Steve."

"I'll drive you."

You let out a quiet sigh, setting the VHS carefully beside you. "I wasn't asking."

"I know."

"You've got work tomorrow."

"So?"

"You've got to get back afterwards."

"So?"

"It's completely out of your way."

"So?"

Something twists uncomfortably beneath your ribs.

It's the exact same conversation you've had three times already. Different destinations. Different excuses. Exactly the same ending.

"No."

His eyebrows lift. "No?"

"I'm walking."

"I'll come with you."

"I want to walk on my own."

His jaw tightens almost imperceptibly. "...Why?"

The question catches you off guard, because he doesn't sound offended. He sounds frightened.

"I just do."

"I don't understand."

"You don't have to."

"I do."

The words leave him too quickly this time, sharper than either of you expected. The room falls quiet almost immediately afterwards, and Steve seems to hear it a fraction of a second after you do. He exhales slowly, rubbing a hand across his face.

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay."

"No," he says quietly. "No, it's not."

The silence stretches between you. Somewhere down the street, somebody starts mowing their lawn, the steady drone drifting lazily through the open window as Steve stares at the floor without really seeing it. You don't rush to fill the quiet. Eventually, he does it himself.

"I know what you're going to say."

"Do you?"

"You think I'm hovering."

You don't answer immediately. "I think you're tired."

A tiny, humourless laugh escapes him.

"I've been hovering."

"...A little."

"A little?" He finally looks at you. "I'm suffocating you."

"No."

"I am."

"No, you're not."

"I can see it." His hands are clasped so tightly together his knuckles have turned white. "I keep following you around."

"You've been worried."

"I keep checking where you are."

"I know."

"I don't even realise I'm doing it anymore." He lets out another hollow laugh. "I followed you to the bathroom at Family Video."

"I know."

"I waited outside."

"I know."

"I stood outside the fitting rooms at the mall."

"I know."

"I called you twice because you went to buy milk."

"I know."

Every confession seems to take something out of him. By the end of it he looks smaller somehow, shoulders rounded beneath the weight of words he's clearly been carrying around for weeks.

"I'm sorry."

You shift a little closer across the floor until your knees touch.

"I know."

"No." His voice cracks. "I don't think you do."

He gets to his feet before you can answer, not angrily but restlessly, pacing once across the room before stopping at the window. His hands settle on his hips, leave them again, fold across his chest, then drop uselessly by his sides. He can't seem to find a position that feels comfortable.

"I keep thinking..."

He stops.

Starts again.

"I keep thinking..."

Nothing.

He presses the heels of his palms into his eyes.

"When we were kids..." His voice is quieter now. "My dad used to leave me places."

You blink. "What?"

"He'd forget." One shoulder lifts in a shrug that doesn't quite disguise how much it still hurts. "Country clubs. Golf courses. Hardware stores."

A hollow laugh escapes him.

"I got really good at waiting."

You don't interrupt.

"I used to think..." He stares out through the window. "I used to think if I was... quieter..."

His throat bobs.

"...better..."

Another pause.

"...less annoying..."

Your heart aches.

"...he'd remember."

The room feels impossibly still. Steve has never told you this before. Not like this.

"I know that's stupid."

"It isn't."

"It is." He shakes his head. "Because now every time something bad happens..." His eyes drop to his own hands. "...my brain immediately goes..." He clicks his fingers once. "'You missed something.'" Another click. "'You should've noticed.'" Another. "'You weren't paying attention.'"

His hand falls back to his side.

"So now..." His voice is barely above a whisper. "...I'm trying to notice everything."

You rise quietly to your feet and cross the room until you're standing beside him. Neither of you says anything for a while. Outside, the lawnmower finally falls silent, and somehow the sudden absence of noise feels even louder.

"I know it isn't rational."

"I know."

"I know you can cross roads by yourself."

"I know."

"I know you don't need me to walk you everywhere."

"I know."

"I know."

Each repetition grows quieter, less convincing than the last.

"I know."

He closes his eyes.

"I just..." His shoulders finally cave beneath the weight of it. "...I can't survive watching someone I love get hurt because I wasn't paying attention."

The words leave him in one long breath, as though he's been holding them inside for weeks.

"I can't do it again."

Again.

Not for the first time.

Again.

That's when you finally understand.

This was never just about Robin. Or you. Or the fight.

It's Barb. Bob. Billy. Eddie. Every person Steve has ever watched disappear while wondering if there had been one tiny moment - one tiny thing - he could have done differently.

You step in front of him. He still won't meet your eyes, so you lift your hands and gently cup his face, asking for nothing except somewhere for his gaze to settle. When he finally looks at you, his eyes are already wet.

"I've been trying so hard," he whispers.

"I know."

"I thought if I just..." A broken laugh catches in his throat. "...paid enough attention..." His voice finally gives way. "...maybe nothing bad would happen."

You feel your own eyes sting. "Oh, Steve."

"I know it doesn't make sense."

"It makes perfect sense."

"It does?"

"To me."

He searches your face desperately. "Really?"

You nod. "Because you love people. And loving people means you've convinced yourself it's your job to stop every bad thing that could ever happen to them."

A tear slips free before he can stop it. Steve closes his eyes, resting his forehead against yours, and you feel the faint tremor running through him.

"So when something slips through..." Your thumb brushes gently across his cheek. "...you don't blame the person who hurt them."

Another tear follows.

"You blame yourself."

His breathing catches.

"I was supposed to-"

"No."

"I was supposed to get there."

"You did."

"Too late."

"No."

His eyes open again.

"I don't think the story starts where you think it does."

He frowns. "What?"

"You keep replaying the moment Robin got hurt."

He says nothing.

"But that's not the moment I remember."

His breathing begins to steady.

"I remember looking up..." You smile sadly. "...and seeing you."

He doesn't move.

"I remember you getting to us. Not the shouting. Not the blood. Not the fear. I remember thinking..." Your fingers slip gently into the hair at the nape of his neck. "...Steve's here."

His eyes fill completely.

"And then I knew we'd be okay."

For a long moment neither of you speaks. Steve simply looks at you as though he's trying to reconcile your memory of that night with his own.

Eventually, almost too quietly to hear, he asks, "...You weren't angry?"

You almost laugh. "No."

"You didn't think..." He swallows hard. "...I failed?"

Your heart breaks.

"No, baby." You lean forward and kiss his forehead. "I've never once looked at you and thought you failed me."

Steve finally cries, one quiet, exhausted tear after another, as weeks of vigilance finally begin to loosen their grip.

And for the first time since the fight, when you wrap your arms around him, he doesn't hold you because he's afraid you'll disappear.

He holds you because he needs somewhere safe to fall.

Things don't change overnight.

You know that before Steve does, because healing has never looked particularly spectacular. It rarely arrives in great sweeping gestures or tearful promises that everything will be different from now on. More often, it's embarrassingly ordinary. It lives in the tiny decisions people make over and over again, until eventually those decisions become easier than the fear that first inspired them. Steve still reaches for your hand when you leave the house. He still checks the lock twice before bed. He still glances towards every doorway when you walk into a restaurant. The habits don't disappear. They simply stop deciding everything else.

Three days later, the two of you are wandering through Hawkins' Saturday market. It isn't anything special: a handful of stalls selling vegetables, second-hand books, homemade candles and knitted jumpers despite the fact it's still far too warm for anyone sensible to be thinking about wool. Families drift lazily between them, children chase each other around folding tables, and somewhere nearby somebody plays an acoustic guitar badly enough that nobody quite knows whether to clap when he finishes each song.

Steve buys you strawberries because you stop for half a second too long looking at them.

"They're expensive."

"I know."

"We literally have strawberries at home."

"I know."

"So why are you buying more?"

"They looked at you."

You laugh. "They looked at me?"

"Mhm."

"Steve Harrington."

"They wanted to come home with us."

"That's the stupidest thing you've ever said."

He grins. "I know."

It is the easiest you've seen him smile in weeks.

A few minutes later you stop outside a little stall selling old records. The owner, an elderly man with silver hair tied back into a ponytail, is enthusiastically explaining to a teenage boy why Fleetwood Mac always sounds better on vinyl while Steve wanders a few feet away to look at a display of old film posters hanging from a washing line. Not far - just far enough that, for the first time in weeks, he isn't instinctively keeping pace with you.

You lose yourself amongst the records for a minute. Then two. Then three. They smell faintly of old paper and dust, your fingers trailing across worn cardboard sleeves until you find Rumours tucked neatly between Bowie and Joni Mitchell.

"You found it."

The voice makes you turn.

Steve isn't standing beside you.

He's still over by the posters, crouched slightly to speak to a little girl who's trying very seriously to convince him that The Goonies is actually a horror film because, as she explains with complete certainty, "there's a dead body."

He catches your eye across the market.

Smiles.

Then turns back to the conversation.

Something inside your chest loosens.

Because three weeks ago he would've noticed you'd drifted away before you'd even realised you'd done it yourself. He would've crossed the distance without thinking, apologised afterwards without understanding why, and spent the rest of the afternoon quietly angry with himself for letting you wander three feet out of reach. Instead, he's letting himself stay where he is. He's letting you exist somewhere he isn't. You know it can't be easy for him, and somehow that makes it all the sweeter.

On the walk back to the car, you deliberately slow your pace. Steve is halfway through explaining why Dustin is objectively wrong about Back to the Future Part II when you stop altogether. He takes another three steps before realising, turning almost immediately.

There it is. That tiny flash of panic. Quick. Instinctive. Gone almost as soon as it arrives.

"You okay?"

"I'm fine."

"You stopped."

"I know."

"...Why?"

You smile. "Come here."

His eyebrows knit together, but he walks back without questioning it. "What?"

Instead of answering, you simply slip your hand into his. His fingers close around yours automatically, warm and familiar, and the two of you start walking again.

"I like this," you say quietly.

He glances sideways at you. "What?"

"Holding your hand."

His shoulders relax by almost nothing. "You do?"

"Mhm."

"I thought maybe..."

"I know." You squeeze his hand gently.

"I just don't want you holding it because you're scared."

He doesn't answer straight away.

"I want you holding it because you want to."

Steve looks down at your joined hands, his thumb brushing slowly across your knuckles.

"I think..." A faint smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. "...I'm still figuring out which one it is."

You laugh softly. "I know."

A week later, you tell him you're walking over to Robin's.

He looks up from the sofa. "What time?"

"Now."

"I'll-" The word catches before it ever leaves his mouth.

You watch it happen. You actually watch the thought arrive.

I'll come.

His mouth opens. Then closes again.

He breathes in. Breathes out.

"...Okay."

You blink. "Okay?"

"Yeah."

"You sure?"

He nods once. "I'll... see you later."

There's something painfully vulnerable about it, as though he's handing you something fragile and trusting you not to break it. You cross the room, cup his face, kiss him once, and smile.

"I'll see you later."

His own smile wobbles. "Call me when you get there?"

You grin. "That one I can do."

Robin opens the front door to find you trying not to smile. "...What?"

"He let me leave."

"...Jesus."

"I know."

Robin looks genuinely impressed. "Did he cry afterwards?"

"Not in front of me."

"Hm."

She nods thoughtfully. "Growth."

It's only later that evening, curled together on Steve's sofa with the television humming quietly in the background, that you realise how difficult it had actually been for him. Neither of you is paying attention to whatever's on screen. Steve's head rests comfortably in your lap while your fingers wander absent-mindedly through his hair, and after several long minutes of comfortable silence he says, almost to himself,

"I almost followed you."

Your hand stills. "What?"

"When you left." His eyes remain fixed on the ceiling. "I got as far as putting my shoes on."

Your chest tightens.

"I stood in the hallway for..." He laughs quietly. "Honestly? Maybe five minutes."

"...Steve."

"I kept thinking..." His voice softens. "...if I just happened to be walking the same way..."

You smile sadly. "I know."

"I almost did it."

"But you didn't."

"No." He closes his eyes. "I sat back down."

You run your fingers gently through his hair again. "What changed your mind?"

He's quiet for so long you almost think he's fallen asleep.

Then, finally, "I realised..." He swallows. "...if something happened..." Even now, the words hurt him. You can hear it. "...I'd blame myself anyway."

Your hand stills again. "So..."

He lets out a slow breath before finally looking up at you.

"...Following you wasn't actually protecting you. It was trying to make myself feel less scared."

You smile. "There he is."

"What?"

"The guy I fell in love with."

His forehead creases.

"You've always wanted to protect people," you say, brushing his fringe away from his eyes. "But that's different."

"How?"

"Because protecting someone means being there when they need you." Your thumb traces lightly along his temple. "Not carrying responsibility for every bad thing that could ever happen to them."

Steve simply stares at you, as though he's trying to commit every word to memory. "I don't know if I'll ever stop worrying."

"You won't."

He lets out a small laugh. "You sound very certain."

"I am." You smile. "Because I know you."

His expression softens.

"I don't need you to stop worrying."

"No?"

"I just need you to remember..." You lean down until your forehead rests gently against his. "...that loving me doesn't make you responsible for fate."

The room falls quiet again. Outside, the cicadas have begun singing somewhere beyond the open window, a warm evening breeze carrying with it the smell of cut grass and somebody's barbecue several gardens away. Steve reaches up slowly until his hand finds yours - not urgently, not desperately, but simply because it's there.

"I think..." he says quietly, intertwining your fingers, "...I'm gonna need reminding of that sometimes."

"I know."

"You'll tell me?"

"As many times as it takes."

He smiles then. A real smile this time, the kind that reaches his eyes before it reaches his mouth. After a moment he turns your hand over in his, presses a kiss against your knuckles, and asks, almost sheepishly,

"...Can I still walk on the roadside?"

You laugh so hard you nearly knock him off the sofa. "Steve."

"What?"

"It's not statistically safer."

"It is."

"You have absolutely no evidence for that."

"I don't need evidence."

"You literally do."

"I have vibes."

"Vibes aren't peer-reviewed."

"They should be."

Shaking your head, you can't help smiling. "Fine."

"Really?"

"You can walk on the roadside."

His grin immediately widens.

"But."

He waits.

"If I want to walk on that side sometimes..." You squeeze his hand. "...you have to let me."

He holds your gaze for a long moment before finally nodding.

"...Deal."

It isn't a promise that he'll never worry again. It isn't a promise that he'll never wake in the middle of the night just to check you're still breathing, or instinctively reach for your hand crossing a road, or feel his heart lurch when you disappear into another room for longer than expected.

It's something much smaller, and much harder: a promise to recognise the difference between loving you and believing he has to outrun the entire world to deserve it.

dividers: saradika-graphics

« Listen, Harrington. » You raise a hand to interrupt him with a sigh. « I get that taking ice cream orders all day can't be that exciting, but you're going to have to find yourself another hobby besides sabotaging my work. »

He straightens up, finally moving away from your desk where he had been leaning. His arms cross over his chest as his brows furrow. « Sabotaging your work? »

« Yes. » You stand up, ready to leave. « I get that you're doing this because Nancy works here. Or because Jonathan's here. Honestly, I don't care. But that doesn't give you the right to sabotage my work. »

You finish putting your things away before switching off the small lamp on your desk, plunging the room into darkness, lit only by the glow of the exit signs. « I'm in a hurry, so if you don't mind... »

« I don't have feelings for Nancy anymore. » The idea that people might still think that irritates him, as if Steve Harrington only existed through that failed relationship. « And it has nothing to do with... »

« Okay, okay. » You walk past him. « I don't have time for this. I still need to stop by the high school to pick up some files and... anyway. Thank you for all this... enthusiasm about helping with my investigations, but you can stop now. »

Steve hesitates for a moment at your smile. It seems genuine, yet the hint of pity in your eyes is enough to make him wince inwardly. He wishes he could tell you that you're completely wrong. That it has nothing to do with Nancy, or Jonathan, or even himself. But he also knows that, to you, he will always be the boy who broke your friend's camera.

It was stronger than you: every time Steve Harrington was nearby, a wave of irritation rose inside you. And yet, he had never done anything to you personally.

But the memory of Jonathan, hurt and humiliated, always came back to mind.

So you ignored the way Steve held the door open for you. You ignored the fact that he never raised his voice at you. More than anything, you ignored that he kept coming back, day after day, despite your hostility.

The stupid and naïve teenager you had been when you first started high school would probably have claimed that all of this was nothing more than a badly placed crush.

Because before Jonathan, before Nancy, before all those strange events that seemed to follow Hawkins everywhere, you had a crush on Steve Harrington.

A crush you had buried without the slightest regret the day he went after your friend.

With the music blasting through your car speakers, just the way you liked it, and your hand gripping the steering wheel tightly, you head toward the high school under Steve's frustrated gaze.

Once again, he hadn't managed to change your mind, and he doesn't know why the idea that you might think he still has feelings for Nancy affects him so much.

He didn't really know when things had changed, or at what point protecting the damn snoop had stopped being a simple favor for the team.

He takes his time turning the key in the ignition to start the car when the walkie-talkie left on the passenger seat crackles.

« Steve, code red! »

Dustin's voice reaches him, muffled and annoyed, and Steve grabs the device.

« It's late, Henderson, you'll get your ice cream tomorrow! »

« We're being chased by the high school janitor! »

They were supposed to be watching a movie at Lucas's house.

« What the hell are you doing there?! »

« Max thought she saw Billy near the stadium, so we... »

« I'm coming! »

The disappearances shaking Hawkins were becoming increasingly alarming. And things had become even more complicated since you had decided to stick your nose into it, despite Jonathan's efforts to steer you away from that lead.

« Damn snoop. »

The curse slips through his clenched teeth.

When the rest of the group had decided he was the best person to sabotage your investigation, Steve had thought it would be easy; according to Jonathan, you'd had a crush on him at the beginning of high school, so he had convinced himself, rather foolishly, that a few crooked smiles and his natural charm would be enough to steer you away from all of this.

He had quickly realized he was wrong, even finding himself wondering whether that crush had ever really existed when he discovered just how much animosity you seemed to have toward him.

It's only when he spots your car in the parking lot that he remembers you were supposed to stop by there.

Shit.

The photo is nothing extraordinary: a forest landscape with, in the distance, a person who seems surprised to have their picture taken. There's nothing special about the image, and yet it intrigues you, as though there were something escaping you, a detail you just couldn't put your finger on.

After staring at it without blinking for so long, your eyes have become dry and you keep rubbing them before finally deciding to leave. Night has fully settled in now, the hallways of the high school are eerie with only the dim glow of the neon lights illuminating the building, and when you slam the door of the photo lab behind you, you get the strange feeling that you've woken something up by how loudly the sound echoes.

At the end of the hallway, a figure stands motionless, as if waiting for you, and you freeze before recognizing the school janitor.

« Oh, Mr. Montrevel, I'm sorry, I stayed late, I'm leaving right now! »

The relief you felt upon recognizing him quickly fades, however, when he doesn't react, his imposing figure still standing between you and the exit.

You take a few steps toward him, your concern gradually replacing your embarrassment.

« Mr. Montrevel? You... »

An arm wraps around your waist, stopping you in your tracks, a hand pressing over your mouth to muffle the scream threatening to escape you. You should have panicked, of course you should have, but you instantly recognize Steve's cologne, which is enough to calm you for a moment.

His expression is tense, and he doesn't even look at you, keeping his eyes fixed on the motionless figure in front of you.

« Don't move. »

His voice is barely more than a whisper and, although he brought you a semblance of comfort a few seconds earlier, his behavior is starting to worry you. He slowly guides the two of you backward, but the strap of your bag suddenly gives way and it falls to the floor with a dull thud.

« Shit! »

The figure immediately springs into motion and moves toward you at a quick pace; Steve grabs your hand without hesitation and pulls you along as he runs away from the janitor.

You don't like running, you hate it, and your lack of stamina quickly makes itself known as your lungs tighten and your pace begins to slow.

« No, no, hurry up! »

« What the hell is going on?! »

You force him to stop so you can catch your breath, your hands braced against your hips, while Steve curses into his walkie-talkie.

« He's in the school, get out of there! »

« We're calling Nancy and Jonathan! »

« Grab the bat! »

You don't understand a word of what he's saying, vaguely recognize Nancy's brother's voice through the static and...

« Wait, a bat? » You take a step back. « Harrington, you... »

He grabs your hand to pull you behind him when he sees the janitor appear, his gaze empty, almost possessed, and hits him in the face with the walkie-talkie. The man lets out a strange sound, but Steve doesn't waste a second and pulls you away with him without any resistance from you, so stunned are you by what just happened.

He finds a random door, locks it before leading you to the back of the room. He doesn't seem panicked, on the contrary, he seems to understand the situation and, even though his calm should reassure you, anger takes over.

« Harrington, you're going to tell me what's going on! Right now! »

He moves toward you, a finger pressed to his lips while you step back.

« Shh! Stop talking! »

« Don't tell me to shut up! You just... »

In a single step, he's in front of you; his hand comes back over your mouth and you crash into the cabinet behind you.

His eyes wide, Steve tries to make you understand that you need to stay quiet and he must be convincing enough, because you stop moving.

Footsteps echo through the hallway, stop near the door, and you hold your breath until they move away.

Steve lowers his head, relieved that the two of you managed to stay hidden, until you abruptly push him away.

« Talk now or I'll scream! »

« You could've done that earlier, you know? »

He tries to joke, but the seriousness in your expression immediately wipes the smile from his face. He leans against the desk — you're in the chemistry classroom after all — and rubs a hand over his face.

« The disappearances... They have everything to do with a creature that... comes from another world. »

You stare at him in disbelief, and even he seems doubtful that he just said those words out loud. It's one thing to talk about it with people who already know, it's another entirely with someone who knows nothing.

« Are you kidding me? »

« No! » He straightens up. « I've been trying to change your mind ever since you started investigating because if you get involved in this, you're going to... »

« That's why you've been bothering me at the newspaper? »

« I told you I'm not in love with Nancy anymore. Why else would I have come? »

A disappointment that comes out of nowhere tightens your chest; and yet, you can't blame him. You're nobody to him.

« Listen, I... » He takes a step toward you, mistaking your silence for disbelief. « I know this isn't easy to believe, but... »

« They're possessed. »

You murmur those words to yourself as you dig through your pocket for the photo you slipped inside earlier.

« That's it... They're possessed. »

« What? »

« I took this picture a few weeks ago and I knew something was wrong, but I couldn't figure out what, and Mr. Montrevel had that same look in his eyes... They're possessed. »

Steve doesn't know how to react, surprised to see you accept this news so easily, as though it were somehow more rational that a creature from another world could take control of the people of Hawkins.

« Wait... Mr. Montrevel is possessed? » Your eyes lock onto his as the realization hits you. « Oh my God, he's going to kill us. »

He's almost relieved to see you react normally, until panic takes over.

You try to speak, but the words get tangled together as the air starts to leave your lungs. It had been a long time since your last panic attack, not since you started high school and all the exercises your therapist had taught you.

Your hand clenches around your sweater as though you want to tear it off your skin, your heart races and you collapse to your knees under Steve's now panicked gaze.

Without thinking, he drops down beside you and takes your face in his hands as he recognizes the signs of the panic attack.

« Look at me... try to think about something... something pleasant. »

Despite your vision blurring, you look at him with the urge to tell him how ridiculous all of this is when a possessed man is probably trying to kill you.

At that thought, your breathing becomes more and more uneven and, against all expectations, while he's still holding your face in his hands in a desperate attempt to bring you back to him, Steve kisses you.

He doesn't really know why he does it. Maybe because he can't stand watching you struggle for air anymore. Maybe because, for weeks now, he's spent all his time protecting you without being able to explain why. Or maybe because, in the middle of this dimly lit classroom, with a possessed man hunting you through the hallways, it's the only thing that comes to mind.

The kiss is clumsy, rushed, nothing like the ones he's given before, but it lasts a second too long, his hands slipping from your cheeks into your hair as though trying to anchor you a little more firmly in reality.

« Steve? Do you hear me? We're outside with Nancy and Jonathan! »

The crackling of the walkie-talkie pulls both of you out of your bubble and you remain frozen while he stands to retrieve the device left on the desk. There's a bit of blood on it, but Steve pays it no attention. Beneath his apparent confidence, he's every bit as shaken as you are.

« The janitor? »

« We saw him run out, but we figured we'd wait for you. Did you find your damn snoop? »

He closes his eyes at the nickname he gave you and that Dustin was all too quick to adopt.

« Yeah... I found her. »

« Great. I hope her crush hasn't worn off so you can... »

Steve immediately cuts off the transmission, his jaw tightening as he realizes too late what you might understand from that.

You may be breathing more easily now, but your heart races at Dustin's words. You push yourself up against the desk and run a hand through your hair under Steve's worried gaze.

« I won't say anything. » Misinterpreting his expression, you promise to keep to yourself everything he just confessed. « I'll choose another topic for my assignment. »

You leave the crumpled photo on the desk, as though giving up your investigation were easier than facing what had just happened.

He wants to take a step toward you, tell you that none of this is only about that damn parallel world, that you should talk about what just happened, but he does nothing.

He simply watches your silhouette silently leave the room, the walkie-talkie clenched in his hands.

This was supposed to be simple, wasn't it? A few smiles, a few lies, and you would have given up your investigation.

That's exactly what had just happened, and yet, as he watches you walk away, Steve doesn't feel the slightest hint of relief.

Steve Harrington masterlist  JJ Maybank masterlist  Rafe Cameron masterlist

But Steve catches your wrist, and spins you back toward him, and his face is flushed and his jaw is clenched and his eyes are on fire and…well, he must be having a similar thought process about your current state, because suddenly his mouth is crushed to yours and his hands are moving up to tangle in your hair with a ferocity that steals the breath from your lungs. He backs you into the door of his bedroom, slamming you against it and caging you in with his body so hard that the impact might hurt if it weren’t for his hand catching the back of your head to shield you from the blow.

“You drive me insane.” He growls, low, as his furious hands tug your shirt over your head like the garment is the most offensive thing he’s ever seen. “Never fucking listen. Always talking back.”

“Take this off.” You tug at his own shirt, breathless and growing increasingly more desperate with each layer of clothing remaining between you.

“And bossy.” But he pulls his shirt over his head, ducking back down to bite at your neck hard enough to make your knees buckle.

“Oh, I’m the bossy one now-“ he cuts you off with another bite, hands sliding over your waist as he presses you tighter against the door until there doesn’t seem to be a millimeter of space left between you.

“Do you have any idea what could have happened if I hadn’t been there in time?” His words are dangerously quiet against your jaw, and you think he might be shaking. You pull back, catching his lips with your own as you begin to fumble with his belt. He responds faster than the crack of a whip, snatching your wrists with one hand and pinning them to the wall above your head without once breaking the kiss.

“Never sticking to the fucking plan.” He continues between demanding kisses, the fingers of his free hand working expertly at the button of your jeans. “Never. Fucking. Listen.”

“We didn’t have time to- oh God.” Your defense is cut off with a gasp as his hand dives beneath your waistband, and you hear his breath catch as his skilled fingers find just how desperate you are for him.

“Fuck-“ for just a moment, his composure breaks. You whimper, the sound leaving you before you can remember that you’re trying to sass him, and he crushes his lips to yours again as he begins to work you like a well-loved instrument. Despite his words, and the gravel still lacing his tone, his movements aren’t rough. He holds you still against the wall, completely in control, but his kiss is loving and his fingers are deft as they move in the exact way he knows will make you fall apart faster than you can think.

“Almost lost you, because you can’t stop throwing yourself into danger.” He murmurs, crooking his finger and adding a second in a single smooth movement that makes your toes curl.

“We didn’t have…t-time, fuck. Steve.”

“Still arguing with me.” He almost grumbles, but his voice is so raw and his fingers are speeding up inside of you and his thumb is working in small circles and you’re having trouble remembering to be pissy with him. That’s probably his fucking intention, but you definitely can’t complain right now. “You almost die, and two seconds later you’re arguing with me.” He pulls back, just far enough to let his nose bump against yours, eyes locked on your face like he’s trying to memorize every expression that crosses it.

He’s losing his grip on his anger, too. You can see the fury in his eyes replace itself with something like reverence as they look into yours, as he crooks his fingers again and swallows your gasp of helpless pleasure like it’s a drug. “Fuck, you’re beautiful. Hold onto me.”

He releases your wrists, and pulls his fingers back so quickly that you nearly sob from the sudden loss. Your arms move to lock around his broad shoulders before you can think, and his hands come down to the backs of your thighs so he can lift you against the wall and kiss you so hard and rough that you forget how to breathe right. His hips rock against yours, and when your nails dig into the warm skin of his back he groans low enough for the sound to vibrate through you.

“Want you.” You murmur, and he moans again as he pulls you back from the door and lowers you onto the bed, still so careful despite his anger.

Once again, your hands move down to tug at his belt, desperate for more of him, and once again, he bats them away.

“Not yet.” He murmurs into the hollow of your throat, trailing searing kisses over your collarbone as he crawls lower. Lower. You whine, arching your back in frustration as your fingers curl against his shoulders in a stubborn attempt to pull him back to you.

“Steve, just-“

He interrupts you with a sharp bite to your hip, hands already working to pull you out of your jeans.

“Do you really think,” his voice is even lower now, dark eyes still burning as he turns them up to you, “that after the shit you pulled tonight, you get to tell me how to fuck you?”

You do your best to glare, even as his words send molten heat through your already burning bloodstream. You can’t find it in yourself to answer, and his satisfied hum only makes you burn hotter. Cocky bastard.

“That’s what I thought.” He murmurs, thumbs hooking in the waistband of your underwear and pulling them down as you squirm with a desperation that makes frustration ignite in your core all over again.

He lifts your knee over his shoulder, ducking back down to drag his blunt teeth along the inside of your thigh, and you try so, so hard not to give in. To stay mad at him. To find the words to tell him that he was being overprotective and you had everything under control and just because you’re about to lose your mind with lust and need doesn’t mean you’re done yelling at him.

And then his mouth is on you, hot and skilled and overwhelming, and anything you might have said is cut off by a near-sob of pleasure.

“That’s it.” He murmurs, the words vibrating through you as your fingers tangle helplessly in his hair. “Lemme hear you.”

The way Steve Harrington can take you apart with his mouth should be studied by science. The way you see stars as he writes sonnets into your body with his tongue, the way his fingers join the machinations of his mouth to make you cry out so loudly you’re worried you might wake half the fucking neighborhood. Your thighs threaten to close around his head, and his hand moves up to push your knee back down onto the bed, moaning into you like he’s getting off on this just as much as you are and it’s so fucking hot you might die.

Your high approaches like a fucking freight train, barreling towards you almost alarmingly fast. It’s overwhelming to the point of near-pain, but Steve doesn’t stop. Not for a second. His hand leaves your thigh, sliding up your stomach and your ribs until you’re almost mindlessly clawing at the muscled bicep before you, desperate to anchor yourself to anything solid.

His hand catches your fingers instead, threading them through his own, and when you look down, his eyes are dark and starved and possessive and locked right the fuck onto yours, and you fall over the edge with a scream of his name.

When you come to, still struggling to catch your breath, it’s to your boyfriend climbing up your body like a panther poising to attack, lips brushing over any exposed skin he can reach like he’s trying to inhale you into his very lungs.

“So good. You did so good for me…” he murmurs as he reaches the hollow of your throat, and you can only raise a hand to comb your fingers weakly through his hair. Your grip tightens, however, when you feel his own fingers return to where they were aiding his tongue moments ago, making you gasp and squirm beneath him, still oversensitive.

“S-Steve.” You start, only to be cut off by another sharp gasp as he slips two digits inside of you without so much as a warning.

“Shoulda tied you to the fuckin’ headboard.” He growls, breath warm against the shell of your ear. The words make you arch beneath him, and it takes a lot more focus than you would like to admit for you to smirk.

“Still mad, huh?”

He catches the lobe of your ear between his teeth, and speeds up the movement of his hand until you’re writhing.

And once again, his fingers move and curl inside of you, relentlessly massaging your sweet spot until you’re shaking beneath him.

He kisses you, slow and hungry and deep, and whispers soft praise against your lips until he finally builds you slowly back up to the precipice. Works you open until you’re moaning and gasping shamelessly into his mouth.

Just as you’re about to combust, clinging to him like a lifeline, he pulls back.

“No no no-“ you gasp, mindlessly, and almost reach down between you before his hand flies up to catch yours, pressing it back against the sheets by your head.

“Shhh.” He coos, nuzzling into your cheek with a cocky smirk. “Not so quick to talk back now, are ya?”

“Asshole.” You wish you meant it. He laughs, kissing your cheek, and finally reaches down to tug his jeans over his hips.

He’s big. Almost too big. Even with all of the preparation, all of the time he took to work you open for him, the stretch makes you whimper as he pushes in, slow and careful and shaking with restraint.

“You can take it, baby.” He half-whispers, more than a little breathless himself, and squeezes your hand a little tighter as he tucks his face into the crook of your neck. “I’ve got you. My girl. So fucking tight. Made for me, yeah? You were fucking made for me…”

He kisses you again, groaning as he sinks all the way into you, and begins to move in a slow, steady rhythm. Like he’s savoring every thrust. Like he’s taking his sweet time making sure each movement hits the deepest, warmest parts of you.

“S-Steve.” His name leaves your lips in a desperate gasp, and the fingers of the hand not holding your own tighten behind your knee as he pulls it up a little higher around his hip.

“What is it, baby?” He asks, teasing and soft as you writhe beneath him. His lips glide over the line of your jaw, and his next thrust is just a little rougher. A little more intense. It sends a shot of pleasure through you, but it’s not enough. Not nearly. You whimper, the fingers of your free hand digging deep into his bicep as you try to match his movements with your own. Try to create just a little bit more friction.

He tsks at you, holding you still as he presses his lips to yours.

“Mm, always such a firecracker.” He purrs, another slow roll of his hips making you keen. “But you get so sweet like this, don’t you?”

“Steve.” You nearly sob his name now, and he still doesn’t pick up speed, but he does slide his tongue between your lips with a rock of his hips that has your eyes rolling into the back of your head.

“Shh,” he coos again , and you can see the restraint in his shoulders. See how difficult it is to keep his slow rhythm in the way sweat beads on his brow. “Be good, and I’ll give you what you want.”

“Y-you…ngh.” The insult dies on your tongue.

“I what?” He whispers, breath warm against your cheek. His hand tightens in yours, still teasing, and your toes curl as your head falls back against the pillows with frustration. More more more. You need more so badly you can’t think straight. You know he does too. You’re going to kill him. “You know what I wanna hear, sweetheart.”

He wants you to beg. You’re definitely gonna kill him.

“This is…you’re…” words are not your friend, it seems.

He thrusts a little harder, just once, and you whine. “C’mon, be sweet for me.”

“Please.” You nearly sob, and he grins as his free hand comes up to smooth over your hair. “Please, please please.”

“Good girl.” He purrs, and finally starts to speed up. Finally angles himself to hit that spot inside of you that has you moaning into his shoulder. “Was that so hard?”

“Steve.”

And even with the way his fingers tangle in your hair, tilting your head back so he can kiss you so roughly you wonder if your lips might bruise, and the way he snaps his hips so hard against yours you wonder if the headboard is going to dent the wall, his fingers are still tangled in yours by your head. His eyes are still locked on your own, and there’s so much love in his gaze that you think you might drown in it.

You’re drowning in him, and you never want to come up for air.

“I love you.” He whispers, hoarse and hungry and raw. “I love you so much. Doing so good for me. Fuck.” He kisses you again, and you can do nothing but sob out more pleas and broken forms of his name.

You feel like you’re on fire. It’s so good it hurts. You can’t think. You can’t speak. You wonder for a moment if he’s somehow broken your brain, mind almost too empty to even register the sweet words he’s whispering against your skin.

You try to tell him so. Try to express the intensity of what’s building inside of you. The words fail, and you just choke on a whimper of “S’ t-too…”

“I’ve got you.” He kisses your cheek. Your nose. Your lips. “I’ve got you. Let go for me. Wanna feel it.”

And you do. You’re too far gone to even scream anymore, biting down so hard on his shoulder that you’re positive it’s going to leave a bruise and clinging to him with everything you’ve got as your vision goes completely white for the second time tonight.

“So good... Fuck, fuck baby.” His breath is warm against your throat as you slowly fall back to earth. He follows you over the edge, pulling back to press his lips to yours in a surprisingly gentle kiss as he comes apart with a guttural moan of your name.

You’re boneless. Exhausted. Damp with sweat and still trying to remember how to form coherent thought.

Steve seems to be in the same boat, collapsing on top of you and taking a moment to catch his breath. His nose nuzzles into the skin beneath your jaw, hand releasing your leg to slide lovingly up over your waist.

“You okay?” He murmurs, and you can only nod, reaching up to wrap your arms around his shoulders with an exhausted hum.

“Still mad?” You ask, and he finally pulls back to look down at you again, fingers tracing over your still-flushed cheek.

“You can’t do that.” He says, soft and just a little rasped. “You can’t…you have to be more careful. I almost lost you.”

“Well, if that’s how you’re gonna show me that you’re mad-“

“I’m serious.” He turns your face towards him, and his eyes are soft. Vulnerable. The fire and fury from before is gone. “I almost lost you tonight. You almost…” his breath stutters a little, “I can’t lose you. Don’t you get that?”

His thumb smooths over your cheek, like he’s savoring the feeling of your skin, and you can’t blame your exhaustion for the way your heart melts.

“Okay.” You turn your face, kiss the skin of his palm. “Okay, I’m sorry.”

He nods, and leans down to kiss you, slow and sweet and soft.

And as he gathers you into his arms, lips barely leaving your skin for more than a second as he shifts to wiggle you both beneath the covers, you completely forget that you were ever upset with him in the first place. Something about him being overprotective. Or bossy. Or both.

You’ll try to remember that you’re mad in the morning. Or not. Or you’ll just hold him, and remind him how much you love him in the dim light of his bedroom, and wait until you can feel your legs again.

Steve Harrington, the love of your life, drives you absolutely fucking crazy.

Four months had passed since Joe got down on one knee.

Well… technically two. Neither of you had settled on a wedding date yet, and between Joe's filming schedule and your ever-growing cafés, life had been wonderfully busy. There wasn't any rush. The two of you had forever now.

Joe was somewhere on the other side of the world, tucked away in a trailer between filming days. Meanwhile, back in New York, it was three in the afternoon when your apartment buzzer rang. You nearly sprinted to the door. "My package!"

Ponkan lazily followed behind, unimpressed. You returned carrying a box grinning like Christmas had arrived early.

Twelve hours later...

It was three in the morning where Joe was. Filming had finally wrapped for the day. Exhausted, he collapsed onto the little bed inside his trailer, ready to ignore the world for eight straight hours.

Then his phone buzzed.

Wifey Honey 🍓🎀 Sent you a video (6:42).

Joe smiled before he even pressed play. The video began with nothing but your face way too close to the camera.

"Oops." The camera wobbled violently. "No, that's ugly." Another shake. "There." You stepped back proudly. "Hi, Joey baby!"

You waved both hands enthusiastically. "I finally got my package today!"

You spun the camera toward a neat stack of Sanrio Characters Mini Keychain Blind Boxes (not sponsored lol) lined up across the coffee table.

"I know we should do these together..." Your smile softened a little. "...but you're busy making movies and I'm busy making pastries."

You shrugged dramatically. "So you'll just have to watch me embarrass myself from another continent."

Joe couldn't help laughing. "I miss you too," he whispered to the empty trailer.

Then something else caught his eye, the engagement ring. Every time your hand moved beneath the afternoon sunlight spilling through the windows, the pink diamond scattered little pieces of light across the room.

Joe had seen the ring a thousand times. It still stole his breath.

"Okay..." You rubbed your hands together dramatically.

"First box." The cardboard crinkled loudly. "I hope…” You squeezed your eyes shut. "—please, Sanrio gods..."

Joe laughed. "You literally a business-slash-baker woman now," he muttered. "Why are you praying to Sanrio?"

The foil opened. "...Kuromi!" You held up a tiny grape-colored Kuromi keychain. "Oh!" Your disappointment lasted approximately half a second. "Wait, she's adorable."

You gasped. "Joe! Your sister loves grapes!" You looked directly into the camera and  nodded to yourself. "This one's hers."

"Next." The sunlight caught the flower-shaped ring again as your fingers peeled open another wrapper.

"...Pompompurin!"

You burst into laughter. "Look! Ponkan!!" You turned toward the couch. Your cat lazily lifted his head. "It's orange!" Ponkan blinked once before returning to his nap. "I know," you nodded seriously. "I'll keep this one because it matches you."

Joe laughed so hard he had to pause the video. "Poor Ponkan." When he pressed play again, you'd already started opening another box.

"Oh!"

You practically bounced. "Hello Kitty!" A little apple-themed keychain dangled between your fingers. You beamed into the camera. "This one's yours, baby." Joe's eyebrows lifted. "So when you lose your keys..." You paused. "...again" Joe groaned at your emphazising . "You'll have something cute attached to them." You covered your mouth, giggling. "I love you."

Joe pointed accusingly at the screen. "I have not lost my keys in..." He thought for a second. "two months."

The next box revealed another Hello Kitty.

You stared. "...Not one." You slowly lifted the second one. "...but TWO?" You laughed so hard the camera shook. "Oh my gosh." You held both keychains together. "We can match!"

Your excitement was so genuine Joe felt his chest ache. Matching keychains and thatwas enough to make you this happy.

One box remained. You carefully placed it in front of you. "This is it." You folded your hands dramatically. "If this isn't Strawberry My Melody, I'll survive." Beat. "...but I'll be very dramatic about it."

Joe laughed. "Accurate."

You carefully peeled away the plastic. Closed your eyes and opened the box. Twenty full seconds passed. 

Joe leaned closer to his phone and smiled.  "Honey,open your eyes." As if you could somehow hear him.

Finally, one eye peeked open followed by the other.

"................"

Your jaw dropped, a tiny squeak escaped you. "OH MY GOD!!" You launched off the floor, clapping so hard the phone nearly fell over. "I GOT HER!" You held Strawberry My Melody so close to the camera Joe couldn't see anything else. "I GOT MY MELODY!!"

"I GOT MY BABY!" Ponkan startled awake. You grabbed him immediately. "LOOK, PONKAN!" He did not look. "I DON'T THINK YOU UNDERSTAND HOW IMPORTANT THIS IS."

Joe laughed so hard tears filled his own eyes. There you are—his fiancée crying over a two-inch plastic bunny wearing a strawberry.

God.

He missed you.

He replayed the last minute three times before finally setting his phone down. Just one more week then he'd be home. To the girl who could make him laugh from twelve time zones away.

Joe posted your video on his account without telling you. Joe never posted your full face, just a glimpse and a hint he has someone in his life, but today is different. He put a caption, “i got lucky” and left the comment section open.

comment section / taglist:

@bdllvr: joe won in life and he KNOWS IT AND RUBBING IT OFF ON OUR FACE

@sensiblyfreshtroll: the way she assigned everyone a keychain before herself 😭 

@roseosstuff: i fear he will never beat the "down bad" allegations

@valentine-night: "i got lucky" YES YOU DID 😭🫶🏼

@batmanssssss: she cried over a tiny plastic bunny... that's my emotional support girl

@eller41: WAIT... LEFT HAND???

@dramallama9 : zooming in... everyone remain calm @songkangslvr: no because that's definitely just a flower ring right... RIGHT???

@psicodelica-me: she talks to ponkan like he's filing taxes with her 😭

@fionaisinlove: "sanrio gods" LMAOOOOOOO SHE'S SO ME

@helaenabugmom:  "yeah the whole world needs to see her" ok joe you lucky mf

@harringt0nangel: she's literally sunshine in human form

@yerxm: y'all talking about the ring I'M TALKING ABOUT HOW SHE CALLS HIM "JOEY BABY"

@bluehexagon8: "this one's yours joe baby" I'M GOING TO LAY DOWN ON THE HIGHWAY

@offbrandhandymanny: bro won so hard i’m so jealous of him

@eli0eli0: her cat truly did not care 😭

@storietilman: SHE'S EVEN MORE BEAUTIFUL THAN I IMAGINED 

@justalongfortherideee: WHY IS NOBODY TALKING ABOUT THE MATCHING HELLO KITTY KEYCHAINS

@djotimegnd:THANK YOU @maferin: ANSWER THE RING QUESTIONS @keery-poynter: he ignored the 5k comments about the engagement and he was like "hello kitty 😄" @you8sblog HE REPLIED TO THE KEYCHAIN COMMENT

@wtfaidhblog: guys... i'm choosing delusion. THEY'RE ENGAGED.

@dopeysunflowers: her living room is so whimsical pls adopt me

@joekeerysbicep: joe i need your prayer word for word immediately

@b1uegemz: idk but this video healed something in me

@keery-poynter: he only replied to the matching keychain DON'T RESCUE THAT MAN HE'S EXACTLY WHERE HE WANTS😭

@nakano-nanami: that ring placement is suspicious your honor

@missnxthingg: nobody wears a giant pink flower diamond on THAT finger for decoration 😭

@jajabsvsjsja: i'm choosing to ignore the ring and focus on my melody

@projections-mortal: thank you for reminding me i’m single

@simsimstay2017: "i got lucky" WE KNOW JOSEPH WE KNOW SHUT UP

@purplerainx1: if they're engaged i'm throwing confetti at my laptop

@msdankworthpotter: the way she got emotional over sanrio... she's stronger than me because i would've fainted

@twilight-sparkle67: SHE'S A MY MELODY GIRL OF COURSE SHE'S THE LOVE OF HIS LIFE

@redvelvetcupcke1: okay i zoomed in... THAT'S A RING i rest my case

@princessofthefrogss: 🌸💍????????????????? @aquariusmermaid2626: i've stared at enough engagement rings on pinterest to KNOW ONE WHEN I SEE ONE

@needylittlebabyintherain: i'm soooo happy for both of them, if they're engaged CONGRATULATIONS

@thisisourforest: matching hello kitty keychains is somehow more romantic than diamonds

@s3xytosomeone: are we ignoring the fact that joe loses his keys? lmao

@oohlillie: she's so precious omg 😭 protect her at all costs

@tsuubakill: i came for joe and stayed for his girlfriend

@willyoucry13: caught my single ahh smiling

@ladybuugg: she's literally just enjoying her keychains and he soft launching an engagement 😭

@litlmisss: imagine being this loved

@unclejeezysblog: cute keychains don't forget to sleep with your windows open

@leisilver: when will the leche flan be available in the café

@brrrainst3w: joe if you don't wanna tell us you can email me

@cliffuckingdovahkiin: ENHANCE 🔍 ENHANCE 🔍 ENHANCE 🔍

@whoxoxovi: i paused 17 times and i'm convinced that's an engagement ring

@miahslt91: i understand joe. I’d post her too. 

@fornitebuckleynerd: she got strawberry my melody AND joe... some people really have all the luck

@aniicorn: inserting a skeleton banging metal shield meme 

@i-got-the-cinema: INVITE ME TO THE WEDDING I’M BEGGING 

@lizzyygrace: y'all... i'm 99.9% sure that's a pink diamond engagement ring

@kissedbyabee-30: i'm actually more jealous of the hello kitty keychains 😭

@4v3rybl0zz0m: "WE CAN MATCH!!" okay that's enough i'm sobbing

@bambi-lia: i'm adding that to my cart

@stoneyggirl2: joe accidentally causing national engagement discourse while he just wanted to show us his cute gf doing unboxing is peak joe behavior

The moment you opened Instagram, your phone nearly slipped out of your hands.

"Joseph David Keery." Your own voice echoed through the apartment as you stared at the six-minute video he had posted without warning.

Joe answered on the second ring, hair messy from the long day of filming, still wearing the hoodie he'd stolen from his costume trailer.

"There she is," he smiled. "I was wondering how long it'd take."

You narrowed your eyes at him. "You posted me."

"I did."

"...without telling me."

"I did, but also you look beautiful."

You huffed, trying very hard not to smile as you curled up on your couch with Ponkan sprawled beside you. "I've been reading the comments."

"Oh?"

You turned the phone toward yourself dramatically. "Why are most of the comments about the ring and us being engaged?" you whined, brows knitted together. "Only, like, twenty people are talking about the keychains."

Joe blinked.

"I spent six whole minutes unboxing keychainss." You gestured passionately. "I was emotionally invested. And everyone's like..." You cleared your throat dramatically. "'IS THAT AN ENGAGEMENT RING????'" Joe covered his mouth, already laughing.

"I'm showing them strawberry my melody, they should be jealous of that."

"I know."

"And matching Hello Kitty keychains and Ponkan made a guest appearance!"

"I know."

"But nobody's discussing the important things!"

Joe couldn't hold it anymore. He burst into laughter, shoulders shaking so hard the phone wobbled in his hand. "You are unbelievable."

When he finally caught his breath, his eyes softened. "Well..." he said, smiling in that way that always made your heart melt. "Maybe it's because the ring really does look beautiful on you."

Your tiny rant disappeared immediately.

Instinctively, you looked down at your left hand resting in your lap. The flower-shaped pink diamond caught the afternoon sunlight spilling through the windows, scattering little rosy reflections across your fingers.

A smile tugged at your lips before you could stop it. "...it does." You traced one of the petals gently. "I miss you, baby."

Joe's smile became impossibly softer. "I miss you more, honey." You pouted at the screen, hugging a pillow to your chest. "Don't worry," he said, leaning closer to his phone as though shortening the distance between you. "I'll be home before you know it."

He puckered his lips dramatically and blew an exaggerated kiss through the screen.

You giggled, catching it with your hand before pressing your palm against your heart. "There, I caught it."

Joe laughed again. "Keep it safe for me until I come home and give you the real one."

the girl next door (is not a grandma) masterlist

emoji anon/s #🍪anon

Months had passed quietly since you returned home, the seasons slowly changing around you. The winter melted away into spring, and with it the bad memories and bruises washed away too. It had taken a lot of time and work, but you and Gator were healing. Eventually you both had to return to work, but now you had a parking spot near the hospital entrance, and two deputies that escorted you to and from the building. It was a lot, and it was ridiculous, but it was Gator. And it helped, having peace of mind was a gift you wouldn’t take for granted. The two of you were happy, closer than ever, and bonded by something that nobody else could really understand. 

You woke to a sliver of pale morning sun shining directly onto your eyes. A long, tired groan escapes your throat before you turn, burrowing your face almost completely in Gator’s armpit. His low chuckle shakes your face and his voice is rough with sleep when he speaks. “What are you doin’ in there, mama?” You huff out a breath through your nose and grumble. “Trying to sleep.” He just smiled at that, you didn’t need to see him to know that he was looking down at you. For a long while he just laid there with you, admiring your beauty, your bravery, you far you had come.

There were still nights when you woke up from nightmares screaming and in tears, heart racing. You still had days when a strange car parked outside for too long made your chest tighten. Sometimes even Gator still reached for you in the middle of the night just to reassure himself that you were really there. But there were a lot more mornings like this. Mornings that were peaceful, spent wrapped in each other, safe and happy.

His thumb brushes over the back of your head lightly. “Hey baby?” You hummed affirmatively in lieu of a response. “Would you want to go by the ranch and see the calves? Maybe have a picnic or somethin’,” He paused, hand rubbing circles into your shoulder. “Like old times.” A fond memory flashes through your brain, you and Gator riding around the ranch, looking at all of the new babies and naming them. Of course you had gone on dates since being back, but not in town, and none so exposed. There was still that fear lingering deep inside you, that someone could be watching again, waiting and collecting information. You lift your head to meet his eyes carefully. His hair is sticking up in every direction, eyes are still heavy with sleep as a nervous smile takes over his face, and somehow he’s never looked more handsome. A small smile makes its way onto your face and you nod. “Yeah, I’d really like that.” 

The sky is blue and the grass is a vivid green when you pull into the ranch. Tiny patches of stubborn wildflowers are beginning to bloom along the fence lines, and everything smells like fresh earth and clean air. You ride with the windows down, your arm hanging out the window as Gator drives slowly across the property in his truck. The warm breeze tangles your hair. “This is my favorite time of year,” You murmur. “I know.” Gator grabs your hand and squeezes once, twice. “Everything just feels..” You pause to search for the right words. “... new. Like at any second, anything could happen.” He understands exactly what you mean, maybe even more than you do. 

The truck bumps gently over a cattle guard before slowing near one of the pastures. “There they are.” Your heart nearly melts in your chest. “Oh my gosh,” The tiny calves bounce awkwardly after their mothers on impossibly long, unstable legs. “They’re so little.” One especially fluffy brown calf attempts to run, then immediately trips over its own feet, and stands back up as if absolutely nothing happened. 

And while you’re watching the calves, Gator’s watching you, a lovesick smile on his face. He sees a carefree kind of joy that hadn’t been there in a long time. “I love him.” Gator just nods, still smiling, not sure if he could ever stop. “I had a feelin’ you would.” You both climb out of the truck. The cows and their calves eye you curiously from a safe distance. One particularly small cream-colored calf wanders closer. “Oh..”Your voice is soft and careful as you crouch down slowly. “Hi, sweetheart.” The calf just blinks its enormous dark eyes at you. You turn to look at Gator and whisper. “What should we name him?” Gator folds his arms and winces before he speaks. “We shouldn’t. We’ll just get attached.” A frown takes over your face as you look back at the small calf. “But I already am. I think I’ll call you,” Your voice trails off as you pause to study the calf seriously. “...Biscuit.” 

You go on like this for the next few minutes, walking around and pointing at different calves. “That one’s Pepper.” Pointing at another one. “Ooo, she’s Daisy.” A particularly chubby calf catches your eye and you slow your steps dramatically. “That big one,” You grin wide. “That’s nugget.” Gator barks out a laugh loud enough to startle a few birds from a nearby tree. “Nugget?” 

Your words are broken up by giggles. “C’mon, Gate. He is absolutely a nugget.” 

“You are somethin’ else.” He watches you smiling at the calves, and his own expression softens. He still remembers months ago, finding you bruised, blindfolded, and terrified. Still remembers your voice calling out to him in the dark, remembers dropping to his knees beside you in the dark. He could still feel how you clung to him as he promised you over and over again that he had you, you were safe. So standing here now, watching you laugh at clumsy baby cows, feels like finally breathing after being stuck underwater. “Are you ready for lunch?” You turn and nod at him eagerly. “Absolutely!” 

He drives you further into the ranch’s property than you’ve ever been before. Eventually the truck reaches a secluded clearing beside a quiet pond that is surrounded by small, budding trees. The pond's blue water sparkles beneath the afternoon sun. “Wow, this is beautiful.” He chuckles, squeezing your thigh where he held it once, before turning the truck off. “Told ya.” You go to climb out, grabbing the folded blanket from your footwell. “I’ll set the blanket,” He reaches into the bed of the truck. “I’ll get the rest.” 

You wander in the direction of the pond, carrying the basket while Gator starts gathering the picnic basket. He opens it up swiftly and reaches inside, fingers brushing against the small velvet box. His heart immediately starts pounding. The ring had been sitting in the bottom of his sock drawer since September, he’d planned to ask months ago, but life just got in the way. Now the ring sits comfortably in his palm, today is the day. 

He takes one deep breath, in and out. He hears your gasp and then your voice, sounding stunned and a little frantic. The ring disappears into his jacket pocket as he grabs his glock, abandoning everything else. “Gator! Gator, come quick!” Immediately he books it, running towards you as fast as he can manage, gun drawn and expecting the worst. 

Gator stops so abruptly he nearly laughs from sheer relief. But what he finds makes his heart swell so much that he thinks his chest could explode. It’s just you smiling brightly, crouched down low, five little ducklings cradled gently in your arms. He lets out a relieved sigh and tucks his gun back into his waistband. “Babe,” You look up sheepishly, a faux pout on your face as you whisper in amazement. “Look at them! They’re so tiny!” He huffs a laugh and moves to crouch down next to you. “You scared the hell outta me with that.” 

A mother duck swims in circles at the edge of the pond, watching worriedly. “You oughta put them back before she gets out.” You nod at him, lowering your hands to let them back onto the ground. The ducklings stumble around uncertainly for a moment before tumbling into the water with tiny splashes. Immediately they paddle away towards their mother. You watch until they’re all hidden among the reeds, safe from any danger. Gator wraps an arm around your shoulder. “You’re gonna be the best mama someday.” You feel your chest fill with warmth as you look up at him, smiling thoughtfully. “Do you really think so?” He leans in and kisses the side of your head. “I know so.”

The blanket is spread beneath a large oak tree. After you eat, you’re just lying beside each other watching the clouds drift lazily overhead. Your fingers are intertwined, the breeze is warm against your skin and you can hear birds singing somewhere nearby. “This is perfect.” You sigh contentedly. “It is.” Silence settles between you comfortably. Gator can feel the small velvet box in his pocket, his heartbeat refusing to calm down. 

“I need to say somethin’,” His words come out quickly, almost stumbling over each other. You turn to look at him, noticing the sweat gathering along his temples and the queasy look on his face. Immediately you’re concerned, worried that he’s somehow fallen ill in the last half hour. “Gator? Are you okay?” He just nods once and moves to sit up. You shift onto your hip, sitting with your legs folded beneath you. His adam's apple bobs in his throat as he swallows. 

“I’ve been thinkin’ about this for a long time now.” He reaches for both of your hands, and you nod, brow furrowed in confusion but still trying to be supportive. “I know I’ve told you this a million times already,” A pause, he’s making eye contact with you now. “But I’ve never known anything as perfect as you.” He huffs out a breath. “I spent 26 years of my life thinkin’ that I would never change, and then you came along.”

His voice trembles slightly as he continues on. “You gave me something I’d never had before, someone to be better for.” You give his hands an encouraging squeeze. “You’re the best person I’ve ever known. I don’t know if I’ll ever deserve you.” You open your mouth to try and speak but he cuts you off. “No, I need to say this. Please let me say this.” 

He takes a steadying breath. “When I found you in that warehouse, I thought I’d lost you.” Your nose starts to burn and your eyes sting as tears well up in your eyes. “I’ve never been so scared in my life. And every day since then has felt like a gift.” A tear slips down your cheek and he is quick to lift his hand and brush it away. “You made this place feel like home. You made me feel like I could be somebody worth lovin’.” Your lips tremble. 

“I wanna spend every spring with you.” He smiles. “Every summer, every fall, and every winter. I want to grow old with you and keep namin’ baby cows forever.” It’s only then that you fully understand what he’s doing, you start to laugh as more tears slip down your cheeks. 

“If you’ll let me, I’ll spend forever working to be the man you deserve.” He lets go of one of your hands and reaches into his pocket. Your breath catches as the velvet box catches the light. “Gator…” He shifts off of the blanket and onto one knee. Everything else disappears. The breeze, the pond, the birds, all you can see is him, Gator. Only the man who had fought through hell to bring you home. The man who still looked at you like you were the greatest thing he had ever known. He opens the box and the diamond catches the afternoon sunlight perfectly. “I love you.” His voice is steady now. 

“So..” He says your name once, slowly, faithfully. “Will you marry me?” You don’t even let him finish the breath before you’re nodding. “Yes.” It comes out as a laugh and a sob all at once. “Yes, Gator.” He starts blinking rapidly, shock filling his expression. “Really?” That makes you laugh harder. “Really, really.” His smile grows so big it almost doesn’t seem real. He slips the ring onto your finger with hands that tremble just enough for you to notice. It fits perfectly. 

The second it’s on, you’re throwing your arms around his neck. He catches you easily and the two of you tumble backwards in a fit of laughter. You kiss him once, then again, then again and again until you’re breathless. 

You whisper against his lips. “I love you,” 

“I love you too.” 

“So much.” 

“I love you more.” 

“No,” You smile. “I don’t think you do.” He rests his forehead against yours. “I think I win this one.” You both fall quiet. The pond ripples gently nearby, ducks paddling peacefully across the water. Somewhere in the distance, there are calves tripping over their feet. And for the first time in a very long time, the future feels endless.

taglist: (i just tagged everyone who asked to be for part 2)

Steve had never imagined himself having to live with a roommate, especially a woman that wasn’t his significant other, but coaching and teaching sex-ed to a bunch of middle schoolers didn’t pay shit, and he couldn’t stand living with his parents anymore. So when one of the few people besides him out of the rag-tag group of people he called friends that had stayed in Hawkins mentions something about getting a place together he figures– why not? 

He’d known you for years, had experienced too many near death experiences with you, and he also knew you were looking for any excuse to get out of the damn near slum of an apartment you were living in then. So, on a bright sunny Saturday morning in April the two of you sign the lease for what has now been your home for a little over a year. 

Living with each other was a lot easier than either of you thought it was going to be. Shared chore lists, weekly movie nights, eating dinner together, learning each other’s little quirks– it was all very domestic.

So domestic that sometimes your lines of reality and fantasy blurred and sometimes you’d have to remind yourself that Steve was not your boyfriend and just your best friend. Which usually happened a couple times a month when he’d casually mention that he had a date and so you’d be the good roommate you are and let him have his alone time and then the following week you’d just so happen to have a date also. 

Which is how you’ve ended up with Eric breathing heavily into your ear as he pounds into you with such a hurry that you think maybe he wants this to be over with faster than you do. Your bedframe repeatedly hits the wall as you count the ceiling tiles above you and it’s not until you hear him groan something along the lines of i’m cumming that you let out a fake gasp and then he’s rolling off of you without as much as a second glance. 

He says he’ll call you tomorrow. 

You know he more than likely won’t and that’s more than fine with you. 

Steve strolls through the door near midnight, figuring thats plenty enough time for you two to do whatever, and for the guy to leave without there being any awkward introductions. Thankfully he’s right and he’s greeted with you sitting on the couch, freshly showered and in your pajamas, with what he can only assume is your leftovers from dinner in your lap. 

He plops down onto the couch beside you with a sigh and you immediately shove the styrofoam container of lasagna towards him. “Want some? It’s from Enzo’s.” 

“Enzo’s?” Steve questions, eyebrows raised in surprise. “He must have really wanted to impress you,” he states, grabbing the fork and shoving a piece in his mouth without a second thought. “Did it work?” 

“No,” you reply, taking the fork back from him and splitting what’s left down the middle for the two of you to share. “Should have ended the date after dinner was over.” 

Steve doesn’t say anything, but he knows what you’re alluding to, and he just nods understandingly at you as he takes his turn with the fork. The two of you didn’t necessarily talk about your sex lives, it was implied when either of you had mentioned going on a date and that you needed the apartment to yourself, but neither of you sat here and talked in detail about the latest orgasm you’d had, but if Steve had any inkling, he was pretty sure the guys you brought home weren’t giving you any. 

The thing about your unspoken agreement with Steve about dates and bringing people home was that it wasn’t fool proof. Sometimes the two of you would go out without any expectations of bringing someone home. Then one thing leads to another and suddenly there’s someone trailing in behind either of you and the sound of a bedroom door slamming. It didn’t happen often enough to where it would be an issue, but it happened enough that Steve, while he wasn’t trying to be a creep, was being observant and had seemed to notice the lack of noise from you. 

He’d quickly put on music when he’d hear the sound of your drunken giggles echoing down the hall and then a much deeper voice accompanying yours, but the times when you come home long after he’d gone to bed and you end up waking him up with your loud footsteps and hushes to the mystery man– those times he shamelessly listens.

It seems to be the same variation of sounds and actions every time– the guy trying to be all suave with you, your headboard hitting the wall in rapid succession for a short amount of time, some curses from the guy, and then the sound of the front door slamming shut. Not a single peep out of you the whole time and at first Steve thinks you’re just being considerate, that you’d made the decision to bring someone home while he was here so you’re just being extra quiet, but he also knows that sometimes no matter how hard you try, staying quiet during sex is sometimes impossible.

He figures you’re bound to slip up after a while and he’ll hear a moan or a little dirty talk bleed through the walls, but it never does, except for that one guy you brought home that would not stop with the dirty talk and kept asking you who’s pussy this was. Needless to say Steve ended up putting on music that night. 

And not to toot his own horn, but he knew what it sounded like when a woman was experiencing pleasure, and from what he could tell those guys weren’t getting you off. While he can’t account for the times he isn’t in the apartment, he can tell from your demeanor when he comes home that those times aren’t particularly stellar either. 

Your less than blissed out state as you sit next to him on the couch, sharing your leftover lasagna with him, it proves his point. 

But Steve doesn’t say anything about your lack of post sex glow and how these guys should make it their priority to make you feel good. He doesn’t want to overstep, doesn’t want to cross any lines and potentially make things weird between the two of you, even if he’s a little more concerned with how other guys are treating you in bed than he should be. 

Instead he takes the last bite of his portion of the lasagna and extends an olive branch, an out if you ever needed it, because again he cares about you more than he should. 

“You know if you’re on a date and he’s weird or making you uncomfortable or even if you just want to come home– you can call me. No questions asked, I'll come get you. I’m almost always at Eddie’s or at Slinky’s having a beer.” 

You give him a soft smile, trying to ignore the way his words make your heart do a traitorous thing, like the idea of him being willing to drive across town to come and take you home doesn’t make whatever you feel towards him that much more complicated. 

“Thanks Steve,” you reply, eyes focused on the little bit of lasagna left instead of him. 

“Of course,” he responds, slowly standing up from the couch. “Think I’m gonna go to bed,” his eyes traipse over you, waiting for you to look up at him, and when you finally do he smiles in that endearing way that makes your chest ache. “Goodnight.” 

“Night.” 

You hear his bedroom door close and you’re left sitting on the couch with the now empty takeout container in your lap wondering how much longer you can go on with this act. How much longer can you continue to bring home these guys that don’t know your clit from your nipple and act like the man you actually want isn’t thirty feet away. 

You always get in your head like this afterwards, especially when Steve comes home and you’re absolutely buzzing on the inside with want, but the one thing you want– you can’t have. 

The couch creaks under you as you get up and make the decision to leave the takeout container on the coffee table, claiming you’ll take care of it in the morning. As you pad down the hall and past Steve’s room you hear his muffled voice behind his door and you’re not meaning to eavesdrop, but the sickeningly sweet tone that bleeds out under the door has you frozen in place. 

“Yeah, yeah– I know it’s late and I’m sorry, but I just couldn’t get you out of my mind.” 

“Your number was burning a hole in my pocket from the moment you gave it to me tonight. I couldn't wait to hear your voice again.” 

“I had a really good time tonight and I’d like to see you again if you’re up for it?” 

“Yeah? Great. How about dinner next Friday?” 

“Can’t wait. I’ll call you later with the details.” 

That all too familiar sinking sensation settles deep in your gut and before Steve can figure out you were listening you dart across the hall and into your room. The door slams shut behind you with no regard for the pictures on your wall and before you know it you’re burying your face into your pillow. He’d met someone while he was out tonight and you know you have absolutely no room to talk, no leg to stand on when it came to however you were feeling, you’d been on a date tonight, brought a guy home and had sex, if you could call it that. 

Steve was allowed to do whatever he wanted to, and you knew that, it’s just that you don’t think you can handle another failed date on your end to fill that ache in your heart. 

The next morning you take the initiative to call Eric before he doesn’t and the second date is set for Saturday. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

A couple weeks later you manage to score a day off during the week, which meant you had the apartment to yourself.

Steve had thought it was weird how eager you were to send him off to work this morning, in fact majority of the time when you manage to get a day off during the week you’re begging him to play hooky and spend the day with you, but this morning you were nearly pushing him out the door.

He tried not to think too much of it, maybe you just wanted some alone time, or maybe you were inviting Eric over. He had spent the night the last time you went out, which Steve thought was strange, considering you never let guys sleep over, but the mid breakfast meeting between the two men had been interesting to say the least. 

As you walked into the kitchen that morning you found Steve sitting at the little table eating his food with your plate across from him– eggs made just how you like, orange juice in your favorite cup, and toast still hot to the touch. It wasn’t an unusual sight by any means, but what was unusual was you having company in the morning. So he doesn’t even think to make sure you’re alone when he hears you enter the kitchen, eyes not even looking up from his plate, before he blurts out – was he any better this time?

Eric awkwardly clears his throat from behind you and Steve looks up wide-eyed and slightly embarrassed. Before Steve can even begin to spit out an apology Eric mumbles I should get going and it’s an awkward thirty seconds as he gathers his jacket from your room and walks out the front door, because you don’t even try to get him to stay and Steve continues eating his eggs, now content with the departure of the man from your shared apartment. 

Steve figured after that debacle there was no way Eric would be back around, but if he knew Steve wasn’t going to be there today, well there was a chance, and it bothers Steve more than he’d like to admit. Either way though, Steve was going to find out what was going on back at home, because by the time second period rolled around he realized he’d forgotten his change of clothes for baseball practice tonight. There was no way he was going to be out there on that field in slacks and tie, especially when in true Indiana fashion, summer had arrived early and it was sweltering already in May. He’d just run home on his lunch break and grab some clothes and be right back– no big deal. 

He’d even called you before he left to give you a heads up that he was coming home soon, but there was no answer, and so he thinks that maybe his little spiral over Eric potentially being there was for nothing and you probably were out shopping. 

When his pickup truck pulls into his unofficially assigned parking spot at home and your black sedan is in its usual spot next to his– his mind conjures up a million different reasons as to why you hadn’t answered the phone earlier. None of them are good and frankly majority of them involve Eric and he chooses to ignore the alarms going off in his head about how he shouldn’t care this much about you fucking another guy. 

His eyes do a quick sweep of the parking lot, he doesn’t know what Eric drives, so he really doesn’t even know what he’s looking for, but Steve feels like he has crazy intuition and he’s expecting the vehicle to glow like a fucking beacon the second his eyes land on it. 

The search is of course futile. 

His wristwatch lets him know he only has twenty minutes left until he needs to be back at the school and with the hope of not walking through the front door to find Eric balls deep in you– Steve reluctantly gets out of the truck and walks towards apartment 4B. 

For the first time ever in his life– Steve knocks on his own front door. Not because he’s forgotten his key, but because he’s afraid of what might be going down on the other side of this couple inches of wood.. He gives it a minute and when there’s no response or the sound of two people scrambling to get dressed, he shoves his key in the lock and slowly opens the door. 

The living room comes into view as the door fully swings open and to Steve’s surprise it’s exactly as he remembers it when he left this morning– your favorite blanket draped over the back of the couch, his glasses that he claims he doesn’t need on the coffee table, and some of the various VHS tapes that Steve had nabbed back from his Family Video days in a pile on the side table. 

The apartment is eerily quiet save for the hum of the refrigerator and Steve comes to the conclusion that one of your friends has come and picked you up, because when you’re home it’s obvious. There’s always music playing or the TV is loudly playing some show you aren’t even watching– your presence is always known and right now all that lingers is reminders of you. 

He doesn’t think much more of it as he wanders down the hall and towards his room, but the sound that bounces off your four walls and through your door has Steve stunned and his feet cemented to the floor. 

“Oh my god!” 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

From the moment you woke up this morning you’d been buzzing with anticipation, finally having the apartment to yourself in god knows how long, the new toy you’d picked up the other day burning a hole in your bedside drawer, and the fact that you haven’t had a good orgasm in ages– it had you wound tighter than a drum. 

It didn’t help that you’d slightly been edging yourself all morning, refusing to touch yourself, but constantly thinking about how good it was going to feel once you did. You could have jumped right into your bed and shoved your hand down your pants as soon as Steve left this morning, but this was more fun, and you knew the payoff for waiting would be worth it. 

It’s not until you find yourself squeezing your thighs together as you fold laundry that you finally cave. 

You grab your new vibrator from the drawer and get comfy on your bed as your heart nearly beats out of your chest from how worked up you are without even touching yourself yet. You’re still in your pajamas, a big t-shirt and shorts, but you keep them on to tease yourself just a little longer. The feeling of your fingertips tracing antagonizingly slow circles around your nipples through your thin t-shirt has a steady warmth spreading through your body and the ache between your plush thighs that much stronger. 

While your left hand still gives your nipples the attention they so desperately crave, your right travels down past your navel and in between your thighs. Your sleep shorts are thin and perhaps you hadn’t put any underwear on last night when you went to bed and maybe the ragged seam had been rubbing up against your clit all morning and maybe you did it on purpose so that when you finally caved just the slightest touch to yourself would have you gasping. 

Which is exactly what happens when your index and middle finger press down against your clothed core and the seam of your shorts rubs against that sensitive bundle of nerves. It feels so good and god you want nothing more than to just go crazy and bring yourself over the edge, but you’ve been so patient, and you’ve got all day to play with yourself. 

So why ruin the fun so prematurely? 

You start slow, the pads of your fingers rubbing small circles over the fabric while your other hand, that is now slipped under your shirt, pinches and gently tugs at your nipples, the both of them working in tandem. The warmth that radiates through you is intoxicating and it doesn’t shock you to feel the cotton of your shorts dampening in record time. You’d been working yourself up all morning and when your hand finally trails under the waistband of your shorts it’s a little obscene just how wet you are. 

Your shorts quickly get discarded, haphazardly thrown onto your floor, and then your shirt gets bunched up just enough to expose your tits to the cool air. The anticipation is burning through you like a wildfire and the only way to smother it is to make yourself come. 

Which is something you planned on doing– multiple times. 

Soft moans slip past your lips as your fingers rub tight little circles on your clit and as your eyes flutter closed your mind wanders to the one thing that you know will only amplify your pleasure.

Steve. 

You’d imagined one too many times, what it would be like to be the girl moaning underneath him, how it would feel to have his big warm hands caressing your body, to have him showering you in compliments and praises. 

Your fingers trail through your folds and down to your sopping wet cunt, circling the sensitive skin around your entrance with such a slow tortuous pace that it tears a whimper from you, hips bucking forward for something more. You know your fingers aren’t going to give you what you need, but you sink your index and middle finger in anyways, searching for that pleasure that you’ve never been able to give yourself. 

If only you had Steve’s long and thick fingers inside you right now, he’d surely have you grabbing at the sheets as he curled them just right, reaching that spot inside you that had you seeing stars. It wasn’t like you had much experience when it came to getting pleasure from your g-spot, considering the only person to ever find it was the girl you hooked up with last October, but you had confidence that Steve would have no issue. 

Just the idea of Steve pumping his fingers inside your tight cunt, stretching you out as he adds a third, it has you mewling. The squelching sounds of your own fingers pistoning into you fills the room and you could only imagine the dirty comment Steve would make about it. You knew he had a way with his words in the bedroom, you’d shamelessly listen through the walls on those nights when he’d bring home a girl on a whim, and you’d stored away those words for times like these. 

God, you’re so wet for me, aren’t you pretty girl?

You’re soaking my cock baby. 

Gonna make a mess all over my sheets aren’t you? 

But even with Steve’s dirty talk echoing around in your head, your fingers of course aren’t enough to bring you over the edge, and you’re hurriedly reaching for your vibrator, slick fingers fumbling with the button before it comes to life in your palm. 

The second you press it to your swollen clit it seems as if electricity shoots through you, pleasure coursing through every vein in your body, and you’ve never been more thankful to be home alone as you lose all composure. 

“Oh my god!” 

Your eyes are screwed shut, head thrown back against your pillow, and the prettiest sounds continue to slip past your lips as you increase the intensity level on the toy. 

It doesn’t take long at all for that all too familiar feeling to creep up on you, for the warmth that’s started low in your belly to spread throughout your body. When you take your vibrator off your clit and slowly trail it up your body all the way to your nipples and circle each of them with it you swear you lose all ability to breath for a second. 

Your chest heaves as you trail it back down your body and back to the sensitive pearl between your spread legs, increasing the intensity once again, which makes your chest heave even more. You’re teetering on the edge, the coil in your tummy on the verge of snapping, and all you can think about is Steve. 

How it sounded when he’d brought home Amanda a couple weeks ago– which is what had caused Eric to happen– how she’d moaned out his name laced with such pleasure that it made you squeeze your thighs together while you laid in bed. How she’d told him don’t stop and how she unapologetically let everyone know how good she was feeling. There was clearly no need for her to fake it. 

God you wanted to know what it was like to be pleased like that, to be taken care of in such a way by someone else that it had you practically incoherent. 

The bad thing was, you wanted that someone to be Steve, who was unfortunately your roommate and best friend. So, having unholy thoughts about him while you masturbated was just going to have to suffice. 

You click the intensity button once again and that is what finally brings you over the edge and turns you into a babbling mess, legs trembling, free hand clutching so tightly onto the sheets that your fingers cramp. 

“Oh my fucking god. Don’t stop, don’t stop,” you holler, pressing the toy harder against your clit as you ride out your orgasm, wishing it was Steve giving you it instead of this vibrator. “Please don’t stop, please, please.” 

Something mixed with greed and insanity takes over you and you press the intensity button again causing your leg to twitch and your hips to buck upwards, all while the vibrator is still glued to your clit. Your second orgasm crashes in fast, riding on the coattails of your first one, and it hits hard. 

“Oh fuck. Oh my god. Please Ste-”

You bite down on your fist, eyes rolling to the back of your head, all while muffled sobs fill your room. The vibrator gets tossed somewhere, on your bed or floor you aren’t sure, but your legs collapse out from under you and you lay flat on your bed, ears ringing with aftershocks coursing through you. 

On the other side of the door Steve is beside himself, his cheeks are flushed, and the semi he’s sporting is damn near a full erection at this point. He knew he should have swiftly turned around and left the second he realized what was happening, but he couldn’t, not when he’s imagined what you sounded like for some time now. What it sounded like when you were experiencing pleasure, what it sounded like when you came, and what it sounded like when you said his name. 

Alright so maybe he was getting ahead of himself, but Steve swears it sounded like you were about ready to moan his name, and you very well may have been getting ready to stay stop again, but he shamelessly hopes it was his name, because then he wouldn’t feel as dirty knowing you think about him when you touch yourself just like he does with you. 

God, you sounded so pretty though, and Steve can’t believe that those sounds came out of you. The girl who he wouldn’t even know was having sex unless he heard your headboard and the sound of the guy or you in a nonchalant way mentioning that the sex with whoever was shit. 

His heart is nearly beating out of his chest and his dick is achingly hard as he hears you coming down from what he could tell was two back to back orgasms. The way he can still hear little whimpers coming from you as you probably lay there spent, your inner thighs slick with your arousal, nipples still so sensitive and sore from you tugging on them. 

There were a million dirty thoughts swirling around in his head and he should feel ashamed, should feel like a creep for what he’s thinking, what he listened in on, but he doesn’t. He hasn’t for a long time when it came to you and he isn’t sure how he’s supposed to feel about that either. 

Steve’s startled out of his horny moral dilemma by the sound of your bed creaking and before he can get caught he’s swiftly darting into his room, grabbing what might be a dirty cut off t-shirt and shorts, and tip-toeing back down the hall and out the door. 

As soon as the driver’s side door of Steve’s truck slams shut (which is the only way to guarantee it’s actually shut after Dustin fucked around with it by swinging on it like he was five and now it’s never been the same since) he let’s out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding in as his hands grip the steering wheel with such vigor that his knuckles are stark white. 

He quickly adjusts himself in his slacks, tucking his erection into the waistband of his boxers, and tries to think of anything other than the sound of your pretty little whimpers. His head smacks against the headrest as his cheeks puff up, blowing out yet another deep breath combined with an explicit of some sort. 

Steve takes one last look at the apartment, shoves the key in the ignition, and backs out of his parking space like his whole world hasn’t just flipped upside down. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

It’s nearing seven-thirty by the time Steve trudges in through the front door in his cut off tee and shorts, sweaty and hot, and still thinking about what took place in this said apartment hours earlier. The remainder of the school day had been a slow type of torture he’d not wish upon his worst enemy and then he had to go coach baseball in the sweltering sun like his whole body wasn’t already on fire. 

You had occupied every square inch on his brain since he left the apartment earlier and at times it wasn’t even anything inherently sexual– it was just you. How he loved coming home everyday to you, how you knew what was wrong with him before he did sometimes, how you deserved to be with someone that could take care of you in a multitude of ways. 

And the sight that greets him as he enters your shared home does nothing to eradicate the overwhelming infiltration of you in his mind. You’re standing at the stove, comfy clothes already on, humming along to whatever Fleetwood Mac song is playing on the radio, and the unmistakable smell of his favorite meal wafts towards him. 

You turn around and the sight of Steve standing there startles you, causing you to jump slightly, then let out the prettiest laugh he thinks he’s ever heard, and it makes Steve’s heart do a traitorous thing.

He figured he’d make it all awkward seeing you for the first time after hearing and listening to what you were doing earlier, but it wasn’t the least bit awkward. It was like any other evening, except you were glowing more than usual, smiling at him like he’d personally given you those orgasms earlier and god as unhinged as it sounded he could only imagine what you looked like directly after sex. 

Which now has his dick doing a traitorous thing instead of his heart. 

“Hard practice?” you ask, eyeing how his biceps glisten with sweat and how he’s got his baseball cap on backwards to keep his hair out of his face. 

“Yeah, hot as hell out there today,” Steve replies, trying not to notice how you don’t have a bra on, how the window AC unit that you insist on running on full blast has your nipples poking through the thin cotton. 

“Well,” you start, before turning back to the stove to stir the boiling spaghetti noodles. “You’re in luck because dinner is almost ready and I’ve made your favorite. Should be done in a few, the chicken is broiling in the oven. I’m trying to get the cheese a little crispy just how you like.” 

“I’m gonna go take a shower real quick then.” 

You nod, not bothering to turn back to face him as you stir the sauce. “Alright, I’ll holler when it’s done.” 

Steve hurries down the hall towards the bathroom and quickly strips out of his sweaty practice clothes, making sure to put them in the hamper because he’s not a slob, and then gets in the shower before he loses his mind.

The cold water does nothing to smother the fire that’s ignited low in his gut and he can’t believe you making him god damn chicken parmesan has got his dick hard again. 

He really is a simple guy and the domesticality of it all does more for him than he’d like to admit. 

Steve knows he’s got to do something about his not so little problem and so he lets his mind focus solely on you as he wraps his hand around his aching cock. His fingers gently squeeze around his shaft and on the first upstroke his hips embarrassingly buck into his fist with no control as his head tips back against the shower wall. 

He fucks his fist with no abandon and when his thumb glides over his throbbing tip a broken moan slips out of him, bouncing off the tile and hopefully not out to the kitchen. His head is swarming with you and all he can think about is how pretty you sounded earlier, how he’d never expected you to be so loud, and it only makes him want to see how much louder you can get. 

He thinks about how he’d love nothing more than to thank you for making him his favorite dinner later by going down on you. To thank you for taking such good care of him, because you do without even realizing it, and as much as Steve is a provider, the kind of person that takes care of others because it’s who he is. Sometimes he needs to be taken care of too, and you do it so well that Steve doesn’t even realize he’s being taken care of, and to him that deserves a mind blowing orgasm or two. 

His chest heaves and he has to brace himself against the wall with his other hand as he continues to stroke himself, imagining it was your soft hands wrapped around him right now, and not his callused ones. 

You consume him entirely and he finds himself having to bite down on the bicep of his extended arm to muffle the moans and whimpers that want to come alive and live within the four walls of this tiny bathroom. 

He’s close, he can feel that sweet release sneaking up on him fast, and with one last stroke Steve comes so hard that he nearly draws blood from how hard he’s biting down on his arm, your name and profanities muffled against the tanned muscle. He paints the shower wall with his cum, stroking himself to damn near overstimulation, until he finally slumps against the wall behind him.

Exhaustion creeps in fast and he’s still trying to catch his breath when he hears a knock on the door. 

“Steve! Hurry up! Dinner is getting cold.” 

He swallows hard, heart nearly leaping out of his chest at the idea of you listening in on him like he had you, but he can’t let his mind go any further than that, can’t let you wait any longer. So, he rinses his cum off the tile wall and quickly finishes his shower. 

When he joins you a few minutes later at the tiny table in the kitchen, his hair still dripping wet onto the old Hawkins High Phys Ed shirt he threw on, and you immediately tease him about having to reheat his own food, but then grab the plate anyways and toss it into the microwave for thirty seconds. 

There was a time your designated spot was shoulder to shoulder, fingers intertwined, with Steve and now you stand on complete opposite sides of the room without a single second or eye contact – it almost felt like a piece of you had be taken away.

Actually, that’s how you felt ever since the breakup.

Your relationship with Steve came almost suddenly. You were in the same grade, you practically grew up together, but never actually interacted in school. Until senior year and he broke up with Nancy and the kid you babysat ran to you for help after his new pet alien ate his cat.

A strange friendship formed between you, Dustin and Steve but it was something real. Even when the younger kid wasn’t around, you and Steve became glued to each other. Where he went, you followed and when you moved, he moved.

What started as platonic quickly morphed into romantic.

He’d changed so much from the popular boy in high school and became someone softer. He still had that same charm and personality, but he tried to let go of all the superficial things he used to cling to.

A part of you felt like maybe he’d never get over Nancy but after those months together, everything else except you and him disappeared. The two of you were together for eight months before you both started working at Scoops and then you were thrown into a whirlwind of more aliens and evil Russian soldiers.

Fighting off Demodogs with Steve at the junkyard and in the tunnels was scary enough – more scary than either of you would actually admit – but watching Steve get nearly beaten half to death and taking a few blows of your own? That was different.

You still had a scar across your cheekbone from the back of a guard’s gun after you mouthed off one too many times.

What should’ve been a time when the two of you really leaned on each other, almost like a trauma bond, Steve vanished. It was small at first – he would cancel on plans, he started calling less and less, he’d give you vague excuses for his sudden absence. You could feel it in your bones, the way he was slowly pulling away.

At first, you thought maybe he was just having a tough time moving past things. After all, he’d gotten the brunt of the soldiers anger and he had the bruises to prove it. But it wasn’t just temporary space he wanted and two weeks after the Battle of Starcourt, Steve broke up with you. Over the phone.

Devastated couldn’t even begin to describe how you felt. You tried to reason with him, even begged him not to do it, but he was firm. He insisted you two weren’t right for each other and there was ‘no point in prolonging the inevitable.’ He was clear in what he didn’t say – he didn’t love you anymore and honestly, you weren’t sure he ever did.

Almost a year had passed since the breakup and Steve has made sure to stay no contact. The only time you’ve ever spoke after was when he returned your things from his house and asked for his own. The only thing you were left with was the heart shaped locket he gifted you for your birthday a few months after dating. 

Even though it tore you apart, you respected his decision and didn’t try to push him. You kept your distance from him but in turn, that meant distance from everyone.

Until a few days ago.

Max and Dustin showed up on your doorstep, scared and out of breath – rushing to beg for help about Eddie Munson and the newly deceased Chrissy Cunningham. There wasn’t a chance you could say no.

So you drove them to Family Video and for the first time in months, you were around Steve again. At the sight of him for the first time in months, your fingers clutched the locket still around your neck for some sort of comfort. But even in the same room, he wouldn’t look at you. He hardly acknowledged your presence. It cracked your already broken heart even more.

You guys have spent the last couple of days tracking Eddie down and then listening to his recount of Chrissy’s death. Your stomach turns at the confirmation that it wasn’t a regular run of the mill murder and instead, you’re all now sucked back into monsters and chaos.

Things began to feel really scary when Nancy’s assistant turned up dead in the same manner. Not only were you faced with some inter-dimensional psycho, but also had to deal with what looked like Steve having feelings for Nancy. You didn’t miss the way he tried to follow her on her lead or the disappointment he felt when Robin took his place instead. The locket around your neck felt like a weight around you instead of providing comfort.

Everything worsened when Max connected the dots between the latest victims and confessed she’s been dealing with her own symptoms. The already high stakes raised even higher at the risk of Max being in danger.

Now, the entire group gathers around the living room of the abandoned Creel home as everyone begins to split off into groups.

You’re standing off to the far side of the room. It feels weird being back here – everyone seems to have their own reason for being here. Nancy wants to find justice for her assistant, Dustin wants to clear Eddie’s name, Max needs to survive and Lucas is hellbent on making sure that happens, and Steve and Robin are here to protect their friends. You feel like the odd one out.  

Maybe it’s not the time to be worrying about that – it definitely isn’t – but the small reminders that you’re not really apart of the group stings.

Max and Lucas pair off together, Steve and Dustin together in the opposite direction and Nancy pulls Robin along with her. As scary as the run down house seems to be, trying to sneak into one of the pairs scares you more – so you go off alone without a hitch.

You do your best to inspect the house and every room you come across but it’s hard when you’re not even sure what you’re supposed to be looking for. You continue through the house for a few minutes until you make it upstairs. When your round the corner, you still.

Because a few feet in front of you, Steve and Nancy stand extremely close. They face each other, eyes locked and gentle smiles along their faces. You can’t hear exactly what they’re saying but Steve looks peaceful. Happy.

It makes your heart bleed and instinctively, your hand reaches for your heart locket again. You recognize that look in his eye, it’s the same way he used to look at you but hasn’t in so long. Seeing them like this feels like torture but you can’t seem to look away. And more than that, it feels like an extra confirmation that Steve broke off the relationship because he didn’t feel the same way anymore.

You’d heard the whispers and the rumors about how he never really got over her and maybe this just proves it.

Your silent pity party halts to an end when Robin makes her way up the stairs and easily slides into the conversation. Steve and Nancy share a look of exasperation and she gives his arm a gentle squeeze before walking away. It’s only then that Steve’s eyes trail from hers and flick up, locking with your own.

Something unreadable flashes in his eyes – surprise, maybe? Or possibly guilt. Whatever it is, it’s gone just as fast as it appeared and he follows the other girls down the hall without a word.

There’s a pang in your chest at his indifference. It’s hard to see him act so careless about everything but maybe you should have expected as much.

Suddenly, you hear Max’s voice coming from the other room and you’re reminded of the situation you’re actually in. If heartbreak was the worst thing you had to deal with then so be it – because the alternative is Max losing her life and you be damned if you let that happen.

The rest of the time spent in the house passes in a blur. You all came to the realization that whatever Vecna is doing, he has some sort of connection withlights and uses that to almost travel between dimensions.

It’s hours later when everyone gets back to the Wheeler home and Nancy decided on using the late hours to regroup and plan for the next few days. How to break the bad news to Eddie, how to successfully avoid Jason and the police, how to make sure Max stays safe by enforcing what Dustin coined as Max Watch.

The basement fills with overlapping chatter. Dustin and Nancy argue over which crisis is more important, Lucas is trying his best to comfort Max – who doesn’t seem to be all that interested in talking anymore – and Robin looks torn between staying silent and joining the argument.

Yet all you can focus on is Steve.

He’s let out his own fair share of input throughout the night and even made some arguably ill-timed jokes with Dustin. You’d like to be infuriated over the fact that he seems fine being around you and not talking but you’re not. You’re just.. hurt.

You’re sitting on a singular chair close to the stairs – the spot furthest from Steve. You’re trying to ignore the loud noises coming from everyone and before your mind catches up with your body, your hand reaches up for your locket.

Except your fingers grasp around air.

Your spine straightens in your seat and you glance down as your palm glides across the fabric of your shirt.

Nothing.

You swipe your hand across your neck, hoping it slipped under your shirt, except it’s not.

Nothing but bare skin.

Panic rises in your chest almost immediately. Every sound coming from the others drowns out of your ears as you shove your jacket off, shaking it erratically in front of you in case it tangled itself there.

Nothing.

You jump to your feet in the blink of an eye and pull the cushions from the small seat – fingers gliding across every inch of fabric in case it slipped through.

Nothing.

This cannot be happening. You couldn’t have lost it. You just had it.

Your stomach twists with anxiety as you search for it. Robin is the first one to notice the change in your behavior.

She calls your name gently. “What’s wrong?”

There’s a lump in your throat that makes it hard to respond. You drop to your knees, snatching your purse from where it sat on the floor. Without a second thought, you dump everything out and onto the floor.

“My necklace – it’s gone,” You respond quietly. There’s a waver in your voice and you know it doesn’t go unnoticed.

Your fingers push apart every item from your bag. Your wallet, your keys, useless receipts, loose change.

No locket.  

Your heart is hammering in your chest and there’s a burning feeling coursing through your veins.

“What necklace?” Robin asks and without looking back, you can feel everyone’s eyes on you. It’s embarrassing but the fear of having lost one of the most important things to you overpowers that.

“My locket. It was just here, I just had it,” You explain. She approaches you and offers a small smile.

“It’s okay, we’ll find it. Where was the last place you had it?”

“I don’t – I don’t know. I felt it at the Creel house and that’s.. that’s the last time I can remember,” Your voice is quiet and broken but you keep sifting through the pile of useless things from your purse.

It’s not there. It’s not in your pocket. It’s not around your neck. It’s gone.

Nancy speaks up from behind you next. “Look I’m sorry about your necklace but that’s not really important right now.”

Her tone isn’t unkind but it is impatient. She’s not wrong but the reminder hits a nerve inside you.

“It’s my necklace,” Your response is curt but she doesn’t let it bother her.

“We have to focus on saving lives right now. It’s just a necklace – you can always get another one,” Nancy says.

“No it’s not just a necklace,” You snap, your fingers shake as you shove everything back into your bag and your voice trembles. “It’s from St –“

You freeze before you can finish saying his name. Everything around you feels too small and suffocating. Knowing how much the breakup has been affecting you is different from admitting it to everyone around you.

The hard truth is you’ve been holding onto this single piece of jewelry like it was still a piece of him – but it’s not and it never will be. There was no relationship with him anymore and whether you lost the necklace or not, there never would be again.

Your eyes burn with tears as you kneel against the hardwood floor, sitting over the messy pile that’s your purse. Your shoulders drop and curl into yourself – every ounce of fight drains from you and you finally accept what’s been right in front of you.

The necklace won’t bring him back.

You quietly clean up the mess you made and Robin gives your shoulder a soft squeeze.

“We’ll look more tomorrow, yeah?” She assures but you both know it’s futile. Tomorrow, things with Eddie and Max could worsen. Vecna could make a real appearance. Or Jason and his wild pack of goons could become really dangerous.

You give her a small nod and then the moment passes.

Nancy insists everyone gets rest, saying tomorrow (and however long after that) will be a long day. Everyone does their best to get comfortable in the small space and without a word, you set off upstairs to find a bathroom.

As soon as the door clicks shut, your back leans against the door and tears fall freely against your cheek. They’re thick and hot against your skin and your shoulders rack with sobs.

Your nails dig into the bare skin where the locket used to lay as you let yourself feel it all. The heartbreak of it all and the pain of feeling like it’s happening all over it.

It’s stupid. It’s a single piece of metal. There’s a million other things for you to be worrying about right now but it’s also not just a necklace. It’s that beautiful loving moment you and Steve shared when he gave it to you. It’s his nervous hands shaking as he clasped the chain around your neck. It’s the way his eyes landed on the pendant everyday after. It’s the comfort it’s given you. It’s the last piece of proof that love between you two truly existed.

And now it’s gone.

Steve Harrington feels like the shittiest guy on the planet.

Not only has he spent the last few days acting like he didn’t care about you, he also had to watch you panic over losing the necklace and not comfort you.

Except that was nobody’s fault but his own.

He’s been the most miserable he’s been over the past few months after breaking up with you but he truly felt like it was the right thing to do. He watched you get hurt and face danger head on all because of him and his connections to the Upside Down.

It was his last straw when he woke up in the underground bunker, vision blurred from his swollen eye, and saw the deep cut across your cheekbone. It was still gushing blood but you didn’t even care – you were fussing over him instead of yourself.

That’s when he knew he couldn’t be with you anymore. Because you cared more about his wellbeing instead of your own and he’d be damned if he let you get hurt to save him.

He knew it was cruel doing it over the phone and his ‘reasons’ were even more cruel but selfishly, he couldn’t stand to see the look of agony that would wash over your face if he did it in person.

His fingers gripped the phone so hard his knuckles turned white and when he heard the trembles in your voice as you begged him not to, he had to slam it onto the receiver before you could hear him cry.  

Everyday since then has been hell on earth for him – but he told himself it was worth it if it kept you safe.

And then suddenly, and without him with you, you were in it all over again. Only this time he couldn’t comfort you. He couldn’t hold your hand or kiss your forehead. He gave all that up.

Steve didn’t think you’d still wear the necklace he bought you but his happiness from the confirmation was short lived once you began to panic over losing it.

He came to a realization he subconsciously already knew was true. That breaking up with you didn’t make things easier for you or keep you safe – it just hurt you emotionally instead of physically and he’s made you suffer for months.

He glances down at where you lay across the floor. You’re curled into a ball, knees tucked tight to your chest and one arm bent under your head. You seem to be asleep but you still look restless. He can still see the tear stains on your cheeks and his heart cracks.

He can’t fix what he did months ago, but he can fix this.

Steve stands quietly and his eyes dart across the room to make sure everyone is asleep. Everyone but Lucas is, he jumped for first shift of Max Watch, and he doesn’t seem to be at all interested in what Steve is doing.

He quietly gathers his things and makes his way to his car.

The Creel house is even more intimidating at night. It was once a beautiful home, there’s no denying that, but now it’s covered in boarded up windows and vines growing across every inch. The air around the house is eerily quiet – not even crickets chirp nearby.

Steve stands on the porch – not a single street light offering him any comfort – as he calms himself down enough to enter alone. It’s probably a dumb decision, no definitively a dumb decision, but the memory of your tear stained face, kneeling defeated on the floor is enough to make him move.

He wanders through the house with his flashlight. The floorboards creek beneath his feet and the tall grandfather clock almost mocks him. He fights every instinct to turn tail and run, and moves further into the house.

He retraces your steps the best he can. He looks through the main hallway, spends minutes at every single step of the staircase, he makes his way to the second story and examines every inch of the floor.

He makes it to the end of the hall – the same place you stood frozen at the sight of him and Nancy. He feels guilt settle heavy in his chest. It wasn’t what you were thinking but at the time, he thought it was best to let you believe that. He was so stupid.

Steve swallows down his regret and continues moving.

He spent an hour at the house, rummaging through every corner of the rooms you stepped even a foot in and can’t find it. He’s on his last leg of hope when he enters the attic. He wanders the room, flashlight beaming across the floor as he looks for it.

He’s just about to give up when the light catches something. The reflection bounces off the metal, glaring into his eye, and before he knows it, he rushes to it.

It’s a metal chain hanging from a broken floorboard and he can’t see if there’s a pendant attached to it. He drops to his knees, careful not to shake the broken wood, and holds the flashlight over it.

His fingers gently wrap around the metal and with a little tug, he pulls the metal free. Hanging from the bottom of the chain, is the heart shaped locket. It’s a scratched now and tiny pieces of splintered wood are stuck in the clasp but he found it.

He found it.

Steve breathes out a heavy breath of relief and squeezes the jewelry in his palm. He doesn’t spend another second inside the house and rushes outside – back to his car and back to you.  

By the time Steve makes it back to the Wheelers house, it’s almost three AM. He knew you’d still be asleep and he’d spent the whole car ride back debating if he should wake you up to give it to you, or wait till morning.

His debate solves itself when he steps out of his car, the locket still clutched tight in his fist, and sees you sitting on the front porch of the house.    

He freezes at the sight of you so close to him. It’s the first time you were alone and without distance in months. Everything he thought about saying flies out the window and all he can do is look at you.

You look up when you hear him approaching and surprise flashes in your eyes. He’s not sure what you thought when you saw he was gone – if anything at all – but it’s clear you weren’t expecting to see him like this.

Your hands fidget with the hem of your shirt and he can tell you’re uncomfortable. He never thought he’d see you like that because of him. He hates it.

Your mouth parts like you’re about to say something but he beats you to it.

“I have something for you,” He says.

His voice fills the tense air but the sound of it is like music to your ears. It’s soft and cautious – a hint of exhaustion blanketing it. You blink up at him from where you still sit on the porch step.

“For me?” Your brows furrow. He takes a step closer to you and holds his hand out.

Sitting in the center of his palm is a necklace. Your necklace.

You jump to your feet once recognition hits. A relieved gasp slips past your lips and you rush towards him, fingers tenderly cradling the metal.

“You found it?” You breathe out and hold the necklace in your own hands. Your voice is thick and tears line your eyes again. “I don’t – I don’t understand, how did you find it?”

Steve feels his heart pound when you look up at him with shiny eyes.

“It was at the Creel house, stuck in the attic.” He explains quietly. He’s almost too lost in the way you look right now. Undoubtedly exhausted and heartbroken over the necklace but still so fucking beautiful.

“You went back?”

He nods and watches the way your eyes glance down, taking in the state of him. He almost feels subconscious.

“Why would you do that?” Your voice rises with concern and it takes him aback. “Steve, you could’ve been hurt! We have no idea what’s going on and Robin created the whole no-going-off-alone thing for a reason. Why would you do that just for a necklace?” You chastise him.

It’s ironic that you’re saying it’s just a necklace now when a few hours ago, you were ready to bite Nancy’s head off for saying the same thing.

But this time Steve risked his life for it and that was stupid.

“Because it’s important to you.” Steve says easily. Your breath hitches as he stares down at you. There’s a finality in his voice that makes your heart ache. He says it like it’s obvious – only it’s not obvious and it hasn’t been for a long time.

You shake your head and inhale shakily. Your teeth sink into your bottom lip as you squeeze the necklace in your palm. You have no idea how to respond and nothing feels adequate anymore.

“Steve..” Your shaky voice trails off but he fills the silence.

“You have a scar,” Steve nearly blurts out.

Confusion flashes across your face but he raises his hand to stroke against your cheek. His fingers trace the raised scar across your skin and you fight the instinct to lean into his hold.

You know without more explanation that whatever his reason is for mentioning the scar, it has to do with the breakup.

“So what,” Your eyes searched his as you spoke. “You’re – you’re grossed out because of my scar?”

Insecurity fills your chest and you move to pull away from his hold. It almost feel like it burns now. His eyes widen and he’s quick to shake his head.

“No! No – no that’s not what I mean,” He raises both hands to grab your hands and hold you in place across from him. He says your name gently and you can see his hazel brown eyes swirl with so many emotions. “What I meant is you have a scar because of me,”

You faltered for a moment. “Steve, I got it from the blunt end of a pistol,”

“Exactly!” He exclaims and your brows pinch together. “You literally got pistol whipped because you were trying to protect me. You got hurt because of me,”

It slowly begins to dawn on you what he’s saying but he doesn’t let you offer any defense before he continues.

“Baby, you have no idea what it felt like to see you hurt like that and how it felt to know it was because of me,” You barely have a chance to bask in the slip of a pet name because he keeps going. “I thought I was doing the right thing back then. I thought I was keeping you safe by walking away – that’s all I’ve ever wanted to do, because I’d rather live in a life time of agony alone than drag you into danger. I can’t do that – I won’t do that.” Steve’s voice cracks and your chest tightens. “But you got dragged into it anyway and this time, you’ve been alone and that’s my fault. I hurt you worse than you’ve ever been hurt before and I’m sorry, baby – I’m so fucking sorry,”

By the time Steve finishes, his palms have somehow found home holding your face. The tears that threatened to fall have spilled down your skin and wet his hands. Unaware to himself, his own eyes gloss over with tears.

It’s a terrible reason to have broken up with you and a deep part of you is angry that he didn’t just have a conversation with you but the biggest part of you is so fucking relieved to hear those words come out of his mouth.

Because it’s not that he didn’t love you anymore, it was that he loved you too much.

You breathe in a shaky breath and bring your freehand up to grip his wrist. “Steve..”

He leans his forehead against your own and his eyes flutter shut – a few stray tears slide down his cheeks and your heart shatters at the sight. You’ve spent so much time thinking he didn’t care but in reality, he was living the same hell you were.

You whisper his name but when he doesn’t move, you gently pull yourself away from him to bring the locket up to view. “Steve, look at me,” You murmur. He doesn’t take his hands off your face but he obliges. “You didn’t open it, did you?”

His eyes glance at the chain in your hand. “The necklace? No,” He shakes his head.

You give him a tearful smile and nudge it towards him. He doesn’t seem to get the hint. “Open it,”

He looks hesitant to let you go but when you give him another gentle encouragement, his hands move from your skin to hold the locket. He sniffles as he opens the metal.

His fingers still once it’s laid open in front of him.

Tucked inside the hearts are two pictures – one of the two of you on a date and the other of just him smiling softly into the camera.

His heart constricts in his chest at the sight of it. It wasn’t just that you still wore the necklace – you still carried him with you. Everyday since he gave it to you.

You let the silence sit for a moment before speaking up.

“Steve, it never mattered if we were together or not. I would follow you into danger every time. You could’ve been dragged to hell right now and I would still jump in after you because I love you, Steve. So mu –“

You’re suddenly cut off when he slams his lips against yours. The feeling of his lips fitting perfectly with yours is dizzying relief and your hands cling to his shoulders. You hold onto him so tight, like you’re afraid he’s about to slip away, and his hands cradle your face just as tight.

Steve is overwhelmed with every ounce of love he’s ever felt for you and you feel just the same.

His mouth slots against yours as he pours everything into this one kiss. He feels warm and fuzzy against you and it’s like all the torturous moments away from him completely fade away.

“I love you so – so fucking much,” Steve whispers against your lips, careful not to break contact, and you don’t even pretend to fight the smile that breaks out on your face. “So much baby, so so much,”

He continues to repeat it even as his lips travel from your lips and across your skin. He leaves messy kisses to your cheek, along your jaw, even over your eyelids until he lands back on your lips.

You hold each other close and breathe in each others air for as long as you can until he finally breaks apart from you – but he still doesn’t go far and rests his forehead against yours. You both nearly struggle to catch your breath but you’re both smiling wide.

It all feels right again. Perfect.

You carefully pull the necklace from his hand and hold it up again. “Will you put it on me?”

Steve nods without hesitation and carefully turns your hips to face away from him. Your pull your hair over one shoulder as he pulls the chain around your neck. His warm finger tips brush against your skin and tiny goosebumps erupt over you. The metal is cool against the warmth of your body – right where it belongs – and Steve’s hands glide across your shoulders after he clasps it in place.

You turn in his hold and wrap your arms around his middle. You look up at his beautiful eyes and he stares back down at yours. “I missed you,” You confess softly.

He nods above you and his thumb glides across your cheek. “I’ve missed you even more, sweet girl.”

There’s a million and one things to worry about tomorrow. The state of the world, Max’s safety, Eddie’s freedom and so much more but there’s not a sliver of doubt inside you that you can’t deal with it if he’s by your side.

You hoped that you could get away with just sitting at the lake’s edge, of maybe just dipping your toes in. But then the day came and the Indiana sun was sweltering. The heat was unforgiving as you sat on the small picnic blanket you had set out while the others had run straight to the lake.

Your thighs were already sticking together beneath your dress despite only arriving five minutes ago and you were trying not to think too much about it.

“You good?”

You jump a little at the sound of Steve’s voice, having not even realised he had not joined the others in the rush into the glistening water of Lover’s Lake.

“Yeah, I’m—” you turn to look at Steve and almost instantly regret it. Because Steve was wearing a backwards baseball cap and some red swimming trunks, standing right in front of you looking so gorgeous that suddenly, you had forgotten the entirety of the English language.

Because Steve may be one of your friends, but his presence always caused a fluttery feeling in your stomach. And the sight of his bare chest—of his broad shoulders, the various freckles and moles dotted over his skin, his soft belly and that generous smattering of hair over his chest—well, it made your mouth feel incredibly dry.

“You, what?” Steve asks, seemingly oblivious to you almost ogling him as he tilts his head to the side as though mildly concerned at your lack of response.

God—you wished that he wasn’t so lovely. That way, you might not have developed this stupid crush on him.

It happened gradually over the years. Steve had gone from being the guy you never spoke to in high school because he was popular and threw parties almost every weekend (ones that you had never been invited to) to the guy who bought you blueberry muffins when you were on the early shift at the pharmacy that sat next to Family Video just because. The guy who you now consider to be one of your best friends. The guy you were desperately in love with but didn’t stand a chance with.

“I’m good,” you tell him finally, forcing a smile despite the fact the heat from the sun was already getting to you. “Just a bit hot, that’s all.”

“Bit hot is an understatement,” Steve grins down at you. “A dip in the lake should cool you down though.”

You swallow at the suggestion, your skin prickling at the thought of taking off your dress in front of Steve, of all people. Steve—who was so gorgeous that it made you aware of the sweat gathering beneath your breasts, made you aware of the fact that your body didn’t look like any of the girls he had been with previously. You had thought about the latter a lot more than you cared to admit.

“I’m fine for now,” you tell him with what you hope was a convincing smile.

Steve nods and part of you hopes, as he looks away from you, that he’ll leave you there. That he’ll take your word for it, join the others in the lake and you could watch from your spot on the picnic blanket without needing to think of an excuse to not join him in the lake. But of course, Steve was too good of a friend to just leave you on your own.

He sits himself down on the blanket beside you, his thigh pressing against yours and making your stomach feel as though it was made out of goo. Because Steve Harrington had that effect on you.

“Well, I’m not going to just leave you out here by yourself,” Steve declares, leaning back on his hands and making all intelligent thoughts leave your brain at the sight of him lounging shirtless beside you.

Your face warms and for once, you’re grateful for the sweltering heat. “You don’t have to,” you tell him. “It’s fine. Really, it’s—”

But he shuts you up by carefully placing his baseball cap on top of your head.

“I’m good here,” he tells you with a smile that devastates you in the best way possible. “You’re way more fun than those losers anyway.”

It was hard not to react to that—the corners of your mouth twitch and your face now feels hot to the touch but thankfully, a yell from the lake saves you from responding.

“I heard that!” Dustin Henderson yells from the water.

The day only got hotter as the afternoon wore on. You made sure to keep hydrated, but you were still so hot and the lake was taunting you.

Steve had been dragged into the lake by Eddie some ten minutes after he had sat down beside you. Once again, you had politely declined the offer to join him and the others in the lake and it was something close to torture to watch Steve—skin wet, water dripping from the coarse hair over his chest, laughing loudly as Max cussed Lucas out for splashing her. 

“He looks like a wet dog,” Robin comments, a slight frown on her face as she drops a cold bottle of water from the ice cooler onto your lap, jolting you. “I seriously don’t know why you like him when he’s got all that on his chest.”

“Robin!” You yelp, eyes wide as she plops herself down next to you. You look over to where Eddie and Jonathan were arguing over the correct way to set up the barbeque nearby. “What if someone—”

“Relax,” Robin tells you, waving a hand as though it was nothing, as though your face wasn’t burning from her comment at the thought of anyone overhearing—of Steve overhearing. “I’m not going to scream it from the rooftops. I’m subtle,” you let out a small snort of laughter because nothing about Robin Buckley was subtle. “You however gawking at him like that—”

“—I was not gawking—”

“—you’re totally gawking. Like if you were in a cartoon, you’d just be drooling from your mouth and—”

“—okay, I get it,” you say, bringing your knees up to your chest and looking anywhere but down at the water where Steve’s back was on full display—muscles rippling as he stretched and looking so delectable and gorgeous and— “I can’t help it, okay? I just—”

“Really like him?” Robin offers with a small smile before nudging your arm. “Yeah, I know.”

You sigh before you uncap the bottle of water she had bought you, bringing the bottle to your lips and taking a long sip. The near ice cold water was heaven in your mouth, the liquid sliding down your throat and giving you some minor relief from the heat.

Robin doesn’t say anything, just watches you thoughtfully before she looks out over the lake—at the sun making the water sparkle, at the heatwaves making the trees on the other side of the lake move.

“I’m sorry that everyone else tagged along,” Robin murmurs, glancing at you. “You know I can’t say no to those kids. I mean, they’re little shits but—”

“—you don’t need to apologise Robin,” you tell her with a faint smile.

“But I feel bad,” she says, her eyes flickering down as though suddenly interested in the embroidery on the picnic blanket. “I mean—you haven’t been in the water yet.”

Your stomach turns, you shift on the blanket and you feel your calves sticking to the backs of your thighs from sweat. You didn’t want to have this conversation with Robin—not right now. You knew she would tell you that you didn’t have to feel uncomfortable, that the others didn’t care about the bit of extra weight you had put on. But the fact of the matter was—you cared, despite your best efforts not to. You cared.

“I’m fine,” you tell her with a slightly forced smile. “Really.”

Robin opens her mouth to respond, likely to call you out for your blatant lie but the sudden appearance of Nancy Wheeler shuts her up.

“Hey,” Nancy greets you both brightly, her eyes flickering over to Robin for a brief second before she sits herself down on the blanket directly opposite from you. 

“H-hi Nance,” Robin stutters a little and you have to fight the urge to tease her for it.

Nancy smiles at Robin before her eyes flit over to you. “Steve keeps asking if you’re okay.”

Your face burns at Nancy’s words but you try your best not to react. Not to show how her words had made your stomach turn and made you feel as though your entire world had turned on its axis.

“Oh,” was all you managed to say. “Yeah—I’m ok—”

“—I think he likes you back.”

It was quiet and then—

“Robin—”

“—I didn’t tell her!” Robin insists, her face paling as she looks from you to Nancy and back again. “I swear! I didn’t—”

Nancy laughs and all you wanted was for the ground to swallow you whole.

“I’m very observant,” Nancy explains. “And the way you’re looking at each other—it’s kind of obvious.”

You blink—not fully registering Nancy’s words because there was no way that Steve Harrington looked at you like anything more than just a friend. She had to be lying, she had to—

“I mean—I don’t know if you’ve noticed but he keeps looking over at you and he’s asked me and Robin like fifteen times since we got here if you were okay.”

“He has?” You ask, looking from Nancy to Robin and back again.

“Almost as much as you’ve been looking at him,” Robin tells you. “He’s probably just waiting until you take that dress off.”

You let out a disbelieving laugh, shaking your head. “Well, he’d be very disappointed if I did.”

The words slip out before you could stop them and you don’t miss the look on both Robin and Nancy’s faces. The way Robin’s face falls slightly and Nancy looks slightly taken aback.

You swallow, face warming as you nervously adjust Steve’s cap that was still perched on your head. “I just mean—”

“—don’t start,” Robin tells you in an almost serious voice. “If you say one bad thing about yourself, I will sell that signed Bonnie Tyler vinyl you have.”

“You dare—”

“—then be kind to yourself,” Nancy says with an encouraging smile. “Because trust me, Steve would not be disappointed by you. Not at all.”

You chew your bottom lip between your teeth, wanting to believe Nancy’s words but at the same time, that small bit of doubt that lives in your ribcage seemed to gnaw at your insides, reminding you of every horrible thought you had ever had about yourself. Thoughts that would probably make Robin slap you, ones that made you compare yourself to every woman you had ever seen him with—made you compare yourself to someone like Nancy.

As though being able to read your mind, Nancy gives you a look—not sympathy, not pity, just understanding.

“He never looked at me like that,” she tells you simply. “He never looked at me like there wasn’t a single thing about me he’d change.”

Something that felt dangerously like hope twisted in your gut, your eyes drifting back over to Steve to find him already looking over at you. When he catches your eye, you swear you see his cheeks flush just a little. You watch as a smile spreads across his face before he lifts a hand to wave at you. You can barely stop yourself from smiling as you wave back at him.

“You two are sickening,” Robin says affectionately, a small smile pulling at her lips despite herself.

“It’s sweet,” Nancy says fondly.

“He even gave you his hat. Protecting you from the sun and all,” Robin comments, nodding to Steve’s baseball cap still perched on your head. “Now that’s love.”

You snort with laughter, despite the fact your face was burning at her words. “It’s just a hat, Rob,” you tell her even though you knew deep down that it wasn’t just a hat—this particular baseball cap was the one that Steve had been given by one of his favourite baseball players when he was seven years old. The hat that he had once yelled at Dustin for daring to borrow. It was not just a hat and you knew that.

“Hmm,” Robin hums as she shares a look with Nancy. “Sure. Just a hat. Keep telling yourself that.”

You roll your eyes, ignoring the way your stomach was squirming, the way it was near impossible to not smile.

“Well, I need to cool down,” Nancy announces, standing up, slipping her top over her head before unbuttoning her denim shorts while Robin looks as though she had forgotten how to breathe. “Want to come with?” She asks you, holding out her hand for you to take.

You stare at her hand for a long moment, weighing up the options. You could refuse—you could spend the rest of the day in the near unbearable heat, chasing the shade and watching your friends have fun in the water without you. Or you could take the plunge, ignore the doubt and cool down in the glittering lake. Maybe see if Robin and Nancy were right about Steve.

You swallow before you take Nancy’s outstretched hand to allow her to pull you up to your feet.

“You got this,” she whispers encouragingly, taking Steve’s cap off your head and dropping it onto Robin’s lap.

You smile shyly back at her before glancing back over at Steve who was once again already looking over at you. The look on his face, the softness in his eyes and hopeful expression on his face makes your stomach turn. And it was the look on his face, along with the feeling burning in your lower stomach that you found the confidence to finally peel your dress from your body to reveal the cherry red bikini beneath that stood out against your skin.

And shockingly, the world did not come to an end at the sight of you in a bikini. Nothing really changed. The kids were still arguing over the rules of sharks and minnows, Jonathan and Eddie were debating over how long to cook the burgers.

The only thing that had changed was Steve’s face. Because suddenly, Steve Harrington was looking at you in a way that he never had before. It was the sort of look that you hoped you’d never forget. The kind of look you wanted to bottle and save for a rainy day, the look that made you forget all about the sweat that had built up in the valley of your breasts, of the softness of your stomach, of the fact the fat of your thighs jiggled as you follow Nancy towards the lake.

Steve’s honeyned brown eyes were wide, following every movement of yours with parted lips and not paying attention to the kids trying to kill each other in front of him.

“See?” Nancy whispers to you, nudging your arm with a wry smile playing across her lips. “He is anything but disappointed right now.”

The moment you slipped into the water right after Nancy, relief flooded through you. The heat that had been prickling your skin only moments before was replaced by the cold lake water. It lapped at your skin as the lower half of your body was submerged in the water, your stomach tightening at the cold before you waded further into the water behind Nancy.

Nancy turns around, smiling widely at you. “Not so bad, is it?”

You couldn’t deny that she was right because the thought of what could have happened was much worse than the reality. In reality, no one cared. No one thought less of you because you dared to show more skin. No one was cruel, no one laughed. In fact, Max and El smiled widely when they realised you were finally in the water, both girls rushing over to you to gush about how great you looked, how incredible you looked in a bikini. Their comments and kindness made your eyes sting in a way you would blame on forgetting your sunglasses on the picnic blanket.

“Red is so your colour,” Max tells you.

“It is,” El agrees with a nod.

“I think you’ve broken Harrington though,” Max says with a snort of laughter, nudging El’s arm and pointing towards Steve who was red in the face and trying his very best (and failing) to not stare at your cleavage. “Honestly, you’d think he’s never seen boobs before.”

“Max!” You try to scold her while your own face burns at her comment coupled with the feeling of Steve’s eyes on you. “He’s not looking at my—”

“—he is,” El tells you bluntly. “He’s not very subtle about it.”

You laugh, nerves bubbling in your stomach as you chance a glance over at Steve who had seemed finally able to drag his eyes away from you just in time for him to tell Dustin off for nearly drowning Will. Still, Steve’s eyes flicker back over to you and when he sees you looking at him he shoots you a devastatingly handsome smile.

“Go talk to her, idiot,” Dustin tells Steve in a carrying voice, whacking him on the arm. “You think gawking at her is gonna impress her? You know, with Suzie I—”

The rest of Dustin’s sentence was cut off by Lucas dunking his head beneath the water.

You bite back a laugh, trying to ignore the way your heart was thumping in your chest.

Steve did eventually drift over to you, after preventing yet another would-be drowning. Nancy, Max and El swim away with you with every intention of eavesdropping on yours and Steve's conversation as he treads water in front of you with a dopey smile on his face.

“You finally got in,” he says with a smile, eyes dipping to your chest for a brief second before forcing himself to look at your face, the tips of his ears turning pink. “To the lake I mean. ‘Cause you looked pretty hot out there earlier—I mean, um—because of the heat y’know. It’s really hot today so obviously you were hot too. Not that you don’t look hot um—”

In all the years you had known Steve Harrington, you had never known him to be nervous but right now, in front of you? The man was floundering.

“God, this is painful to watch,” Max comments from a few feet away, floating on her back alongside a giggling El.

“Tell me about it,” Steve mutters to himself, scratching the back of his neck and allowing you a glorious view of his biceps, still wet from lake water.

“You good?” You ask him with a bright laugh, one that makes him look over at you, makes his mouth twitch as though trying not to smile.

“Yeah, grand,” Steve replies. “Just um—you look good. Like really good. Not that you don’t always look good because you do. I mean, good is an understatement. You always look pretty. No, beautiful. You always look beautiful but right now you look—wow.”

His words tumble out so quickly that you barely have time to process them but when you finally do, something swoops low in your belly, making you feel hot in a way that has nothing to do with the sun still beating down on you and everything to do with the man standing in front of you.

When you say nothing, because you’re too busy trying to comprehend what had just come out of Steve’s mouth, he adds, “I uh—I used to be a lot smoother than this, I swear.”

The comment makes you laugh and your laugh makes Steve laugh, albeit a little nervous.

“What changed?” You ask him, a small smile playing on your lips as you tilt your head to the side to consider him.

Steve seems to bite the inside of his cheek, his eyes dancing over your face in a way that seems to steal the breath from your lungs, making you feel like you were the only two people in the lake, like you were the only two people for miles (despite in the back of your mind, knowing you had an audience).

“You,” Steve says simply in a low voice that makes you feel more alive than you had ever felt before.

And yet—there was still that small part of you that wondered if it was pity or if you were imagining things or—

A sudden splash of water to your right makes you yelp and Steve swear loudly.

“Henderson! You little shit—”

Steve goes to lunge for Dustin but Max gets there first, whacking Dustin on the back of the head with a loud smack!

“Ouch!” Dustin grumbles, glaring at Max. “What was that for—”

“—they were having a moment, moron!”

Steve looked as though he wanted nothing more than to submerge himself into the water and not resurface. While you were trying hard not to let self doubt creep in again but it was beginning to slip beneath the cracks.

“Hey,” Steve murmurs suddenly, stepping closer to you in the water and causing you to jump slightly, your arms wrapping around yourself as though wanting to cover the parts of you that left Steve’s mouth feeling dry.

And Steve—he can see right through you. Because he noticed everything about you and so, of course he had noticed the way you had been quiet after a shopping trip with Robin, how your face had once fallen when your thighs had clapped together in front of him and he had noticed how much you wanted to cover up, even in the summer months. He noticed all of this and god—it killed him.

Because to Steve, you were the most beautiful girl in the world. And it broke his heart to think that you wanted to hide from everyone, from him.

“Hi,” you whisper back. You smile back at him but your arms are still locked around your body, your stomach pressing against your forearm in a way it didn’t a few months ago. The contact makes your stomach churn because you hated the fact it bothered you, you hated the fact that you were beginning to measure your worth by your body.

Almost like he could read your thoughts, Steve stepped even closer, his large hands gently wrapping around your wrists. He doesn’t pull them away. Not yet. He just looks back at you with a soft, kind expression that makes your heart feel as though it had doubled in size.

“I can see right through you, you know that?” Steve tells you gently, dragging a thumb across your skin and making your arm erupt with goosebumps. The sight and the knowledge that he had that effect on you makes his mouth twitch, but he doesn’t comment on it.

“What are you thinking?” He asks gently, head tilting as he studies you. “Tell me. Please.”

You swallow, heart pounding in your chest as you lift your eyes to meet his. Under his gaze, you felt every nerve in your body, you felt your pulse beneath your skin and you felt his touch, like fire against you.

“I just—” you begin, your tongue darting out to lick the corner of your mouth as you consider your words carefully. “I want to be sure if—that this isn’t pity or—or you just being nice or—”

“—pity?” Steve repeats, eyes widening slightly, completely taken aback by your words. “You think—think that I pity you? Why would I?”

As soon as the words fall from his lips, you know how ridiculous you were for even thinking that Steve would pity you over the way you look. Because this was Steve and he was kind, honest and genuine.

“I just—I don’t feel great about myself right now and—I guess that find it hard to believe that you would—you know—”

“—like you?” Steve asks and your breath hitches as he tugs your arms away from your stomach so he could rest one hand on your hip. “Be attracted to you? Is that so hard to believe?”

You worry your bottom lip between your teeth, trying hard not to think about Steve touching you right now, trying not to think about the others who were pretending not to watch this exchange with baited breath.

“Not because I think you’re too shallow or anything I just—I just find it hard to believe anyone would—”

Something inside of Steve breaks at your admission because fuck, you were beautiful. And he hated—hated—that there was a part of you that couldn’t see what he did.

“Do you have any idea how fucking perfect you are?” He asks, fingers gliding across your skin, over the curve of your hip, your lower back (dangerously close to the top of your ass) and finally over your stomach. “I mean—shit—this bikini it—it’s killing me. You look—fuck—I can’t even really say or I’m going to embarrass myself but you’re gorgeous and I’m not just saying that to be nice. I’m saying it because it’s true. You. Are. Beautiful. And I hope to god that one day you’ll be able to see yourself from my point of view. See how fucking gorgeous you are.”

“But until then,” Steve murmurs, lifting a hand to gently cup your cheek, holding you as though you were something precious. “I don’t know how else to convince you other than—”

He doesn’t finish his sentence because before you could even begin to understand what was about to happen—he was tugging your body flush against his and leaning in to brush his lips against yours. His mouth was warm, soft and he was kissing you so gently that you were struggling to remember how to breathe, even your own name was a blur.

The sounds of Robin screaming in delight, of Eddie and Jonathan both cheering and Dustin pretending to gag all turned into nothing as you kissed Steve back. A warmth spreads through your stomach as he groans softly against your lips, tilting your head back just so to deepen the kiss. 

Truthfully, you could have kissed him for hours. Days, even. Especially when you parted your lips and his tongue eagerly licked into your mouth, brushing against yours and causing a fire in your gut that had you clinging to his biceps in order to keep yourself tethered to him.

“Keep it PG guys!” Eddie yells and you both finally pull away, breathless and struggling to form a coherent sentence. “There’s children present!”

“Sorry,” Steve grins, lips swollen and cheeks a little flushed as his fingers splay across your hip as though desperate to explore more of your curves, eager to touch every part of you that had kept him awake at night. “My girl’s just hard to resist.”

Heat blooms across your face as the girls squeal and Dustin groans in disgust.

“Your girl?” You whisper back to Steve with a small smile.

“Yeah,” Steve murmurs, leaning in to press a kiss to your cheek—chaste but leaves your skin burning. “That okay?”

“More than okay,” you tell him with a smile that was almost painful to hold back.

“Food’s ready!” Jonathan calls out. The kids all race out of the water but you stay next to Steve, your body thrumming with want as his hand finally allows itself to dip to the swell of your ass beneath the water.

“You want to grab food?” You ask him, trying to keep a straight face as his fingers squeeze the globe of your ass.

“Think I need five minutes,” Steve says with a slightly sheepish expression, leaning in to press a kiss to your hairline. “Maybe ten. Blame the bikini.”

You laugh and Steve can’t help but join you, that doubt in your ribcage lessening just enough to not think twice as his hands continue to roam over your body.

“Hey Steve!” Robin calls out. “I um—I think I got mustard on your hat.”

“Son of a—”

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