Before Robin could answer the question— which was a completely valid question that you really wanted to hear the answer to— you all heard the sound of the front door slamming shut followed by an immediate “Sorry!”, and suddenly the sleeping baby that you three had been staring at woke up and burst into tears. 

The three of you let out a collective groan, and Robin was the one to reach into the crib that had been set up in the living room and pick up Avery. 

It was Eddie who had slammed the door, of course. Not only was he the only person that could’ve been coming into the house right then, but he was also a chronic door slammer so anytime there was any sort of loud slam heard within the house it was very safe to assume that he was the culprit. 

You were the first to notice Eddie’s furrowed eyebrows when he walked into the living room and saw the crib and the crying baby in Robin’s arms. 

“What the fuck is happening?”

“Hey,” Robin said, giving him a serious look. “No cursing in front of the baby.”

“Why is there a baby here?” Eddie asked, still confused, and then he snapped his fingers as if he realized something. “Wait, Steve, is this your long-lost kid?”

Steve didn’t hesitate to roll his eyes at what he deemed a dumb question. “Fuck off.”

Robin immediately gave him a look similar to the one she had just given Eddie. “No cursing.”

“Robin’s babysitting for her cousin,” You decided to fill Eddie in on what happened in the past thirty minutes. “And neither me nor Steve seem to know the reason why.”

You’d been in your room when the doorbell rang half an hour ago, reading a book that was just starting to get good. You knew that Robin and Steve were home and one of them would probably go answer the door, so you didn’t make any move to get up from the comfortable position you had found yourself in on your bed. Until Steve was knocking on your door ten minutes later, and saying, “You’re not gonna believe this.”

And when you walked out into the living room and saw the crib that had been set up and the baby sleeping in it, you could fully say that Steve was right. You didn’t believe this. 

“When Shelley first had Avery, I told her that I’d be happy to babysit for her anytime she needed it. I didn’t really mean it, I was just saying it to be nice, and I genuinely didn’t think it would ever actually happen. But, she called this morning and told me that her babysitter for the night fell through, and she and her husband have tickets for this play thing in the city, so she decided to take me up on my babysitting offer,” Robin explained, making her voice loud enough to be heard over Avery’s crying. “I obviously couldn’t say no, and now here we are.”

Hearing that made you give her a bewildered look. “You’ve known since this morning?”

“I wanted it to be a surprise,” Robin responded meekly. 

Eddie let out a sound that was a cross between a laugh and a sigh. “Can we all agree that surprises should be fun and exciting, and not ones where we’re fully in charge of someone’s life?”

“I know you guys are mad at me right now,” Robin started. “But I need to say that I’m really glad that we all see this as an us problem and not just a me thing.”

“Yeah, well, I think it would be considered child endangerment if we let you take care of her by yourself,” Steve said with a joking shrug that made you laugh. 

“I should definitely feel offended by that comment, but I don’t because you’re right,” Robin told him. “But anyway, I think everything will go perfectly okay tonight, and we’re all gonna do a great job babysitting because I was told that she’s a very chill and easygoing baby.” 

In the moment, that didn’t feel entirely true, and Eddie pointed out the obvious. “She’s literally crying in your arms right now.” 

Somehow, Avery seemed to have only gotten louder in the last few minutes, not at all responding to the way that Robin was holding her and trying to soothe her.  

“That’s because you slammed the door and woke her up. She’d been sleeping when Shelley dropped her off.”

“I think you’re doing something wrong,” Steve jumped in before the arguing furthered, and proceeded to pull Avery from Robin’s arms. He started rocking her softly, and then she was finally calming down. 

The three of you were surprised to see how easy he was able to do it— even he seemed shocked by how he managed to do that so quickly— and Eddie was the first to say something. “Okay, so Steve’s officially: Steve ‘the baby whisperer’ Harrington.”

“He’s used to this,” Robin reminded him. 

Eddie nodded. “Oh yeah, that’s true.”

“You guys know that I haven’t babysat actual babies before, right?”

They both simultaneously shrugged, but Robin was the one to say, “Close enough.”

In minutes, Avery was back to sleep, and Steve was putting her back in her crib. All of you were practically holding your breath to see if she would stir awake again after Steve slowly set her down, but she didn’t. And you inwardly sighed in relief.  

“Okay,” You whispered. “Now what?”

Steve took a look at the watch he was wearing. “It’s five right now. What time are they coming to pick her up, Robs? Ten?”

Robin didn’t immediately answer the question, which made you worried about what she was going to say. “In the morning.”

Eddie started laughing, but quickly stopped when no one else joined in. “Wait, you’re not joking?” 

Robin shook her head in response and was about to say something, but then Avery made a soft noise, and all of you were looking at her once again. Her eyes were still closed, but she squirmed for a second, like she was trying to get completely comfortable. 

“Alright,” You whispered once she seemed to be peaceful and quiet again. “Can we please go to the kitchen before one of us— and by one of us, I mean Eddie— accidentally wakes her up again?”

You received nods in response from Robin, Steve, and Eddie, and you all quietly made your way into the kitchen. 

“Okay, Robin, fill us in on everything,” You said as you leaned back against the counter. “You didn’t just, like, randomly adopt a baby today and now we’re all parents, right?”

You were obviously joking with your question, but at this point, with everything else that had happened so far, if Robin answered yes, you actually wouldn’t have been all too surprised. 

“No, I promise, it’s just for tonight,” She answered, and it was almost comical how fast you, Steve, and Eddie breathed out a sigh of relief. “And Shelley wrote down everything that we need to know and what we have to do.” She pulled out a folded-up piece of paper that she had pocketed in the back of her jeans. “This is actually gonna be so easy and fine.”

“Famous fucking last words,” Eddie said and quickly continued before Robin could give him a look. “And you can’t scold me for saying fuck because the baby is not in our presence right now.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

It had been Eddie’s idea for you to move into Steve’s house six months ago, and it was an idea that he never liked letting anyone forget about because he liked to call it “one of his best.” He and Robin had already been living there for close to a year at that point. You didn’t know the full backstory at first, but you thought it was sweet; the three of them living in Steve’s childhood home because it was more than big enough and because his parents spent all of their time in Chicago now. 

During a slow day at work, you ranted to Eddie about how your landlord was raising the rent to a stupidly high number that you wouldn’t be able to afford, so you were trying to figure out other options. 

You hadn’t told Eddie about all of that in hopes that he’d figure out some sort of solution for you. You just wanted to vent about the annoying problem, and since there was no one in the record store right then, you figured it was perfect timing. However, it was right after that rant that Eddie said, “Oh, I have the best idea,” and then proceeded to flip the ‘We’re Open’ sign to ‘Sorry, we’re closed’ and told you to follow him as he walked a few doors down to Family Video. 

Robin and Steve were behind the counter sorting tapes when Eddie told them that you should move in with them. You protested immediately— not knowing that that was the idea he had— because at that point, you hadn’t really considered yourself a part of their “group.” 

Sure, you were friends; you met Eddie when you started working at the record store a year prior, and you occasionally hung out with them all at Steve’s place when something was happening there. But you didn’t think that you were at all close enough to them to join in on their living situation. 

Steve was the one to tell you that you were wrong, though, and honestly, his thoughts on the matter were what you cared about the most since it was his house after all. 

It took some back and forth and a lot of questioning “Are you sure’s?” and “Are you really sure’s?” from you to all of them for you to feel completely comfortable and not like they were just pitying you for the sake of you kind of needing this. They weren’t pitying you, though— or at least it wasn’t entirely about that— they really did want you to live with them, and the gesture warmed your heart a lot more than you had wanted to admit in the moment.  

And the rest was history, you officially became the fourth roommate a week later, which everyone said was pretty perfect because there was one guest bedroom left anyway. But also, according to Robin and Eddie, it was slightly “not so perfect” because that room was right next to Steve’s bedroom, and apparently, he could be a terribly loud snorer at times. 

After your first night, when you didn’t hear anything, you figured that they had just been joking. But then two nights later, you heard it, and it was, in fact, terrible. Not enough to make you want to move out of this place where you were currently living rent-free, though, obviously. 

However, Steve’s random snoring was nothing compared to Avery’s crying. 

“Okay, so since she’s still crying after we changed her, that means she must be hungry,” Robin said, reading off the paper from earlier. “Shelley wrote down how to make a bottle.” 

It had barely been an hour since Steve had been able to get her back to sleep. The four of you sat in the living room watching a movie on mute because you were scared of any noise waking her, but forty minutes into the movie, she started crying again. Which, at first, confused you all because nothing had happened, but then you smelled the issue. 

“I’ll help you with the bottle since I did have to leave the room when you guys changed her,” Eddie said. He had started gagging at the smell, which you would’ve laughed at if you weren’t also trying to hold back your own gags. 

They went off into the kitchen, and you and Steve stayed in the living room. He was still holding Avery as she wailed, and you hoped that making a bottle was a quick process because it was honestly a little sad to watch her be this upset.  

“So, I guess, we shouldn’t tell them tonight,” Steve said, keeping his voice at a normal level because there was no way that Eddie and Robin would be able to hear your conversation over Avery’s crying. 

“No,” You quickly shook your head. “But, also, even if this babysitting thing wasn’t happening, I would still think that we shouldn’t tell them tonight.” 

“Yeah, because you don’t think we should ever tell them.” 

“Exactly,” You responded. “Because if we do, it’ll change everything. Robin will say that we’re ruining the ‘delicate roommate ecosystem,’  and Eddie will feel offended that I didn’t tell him sooner because he never hesitates to tell me anything and everything that happens with him.”

“They’re gonna be fine,” Steve assured you, and even though he’d known Robin and Eddie for longer, so he definitely knew them better than you did, it was still hard to let yourself fully believe him in this moment. “They’ll probably even be happy for us.”

“Do you really, really think that?”

“Us not telling them made sense in the beginning since we weren’t sure if this was serious or not,” He explained and you gave him a quick nod in understanding. “But, we’re officially dating now, and this is very serious and real, so they kinda have to be happy for us.”

“Forced happiness is the best kind,” You joked dryly. 

Steve shook his head at you even as he laughed. “You’re overthinking this.”

You nodded, not afraid to admit it. “Yes. One of us has to.”

“This can’t stay a secret forever.”

“It totally could.”

“Okay, what I meant to say was I don’t want to keep this a secret forever.”

You opened your mouth to respond to him, but the sound of something crashing in the kitchen turned both of your attention that way. 

“What was that?” You asked, making your voice loud enough so that Robin and Eddie could hear you. 

“Robin did something really bad,” Eddie responded, which made you and Steve rush into the kitchen. 

You immediately noticed the can of formula spilled entirely on the ground, and your eyes widened a bit. 

You looked down at the mess for a beat or two longer and then at Robin. “Was that all of it?”

She nodded. “Yes, I was trying to put the cap back on and the whole thing slipped out of my hand.”

“The good news is we already finished this bottle, so we’re not entirely effed right now,” Eddie said, holding up the bottle in his hand, and you inwardly sighed in relief. That wasn’t just good news, it was great news. 

“Okay, we’ll clean up here and feed her, and you two go to the store and get another can,” Steve said, immediately going into mom mode and problem-solving.

“Aye, aye, captain,” Eddie nodded and saluted him, and then looked at Robin. “Let’s go, Robs.” 

Robin picked up the now-empty can off the ground, so they’d remember which one they’d need to get from the grocery store. “We’ll be back in twenty. Hopefully.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The first time you and Steve kissed, there was a part of you that wanted it to suck. It would’ve made things a lot easier and less complicated. 

However, it didn’t suck. At all.

You had been in the kitchen in the middle of the night, rummaging through the freezer, when you heard him say a soft, “Hey.”

You jumped, startled, even though Steve wasn’t trying to scare you, and you turned to look at him. It was dark, only the moonlight shining in through the kitchen window doing something to bring some light to the space, but your eyes had long adjusted to it. Steve's hair was a mess, which made sense since he had probably just woken up, and he had on a plain t-shirt and a pair of basketball shorts.

You suddenly felt self-conscious about what you were wearing in comparison; a t-shirt, underwear, and that was it. You hadn’t expected to run into anyone in the kitchen; you weren’t even planning to be in there for long, so the thought of putting on shorts or sweatpants didn’t cross your mind once. 

You tugged at your t-shirt, even though you knew it really did nothing to cover your bottom half. 

“I promise I’m not looking at your flowery pink underwear,” Steve said.

You promptly rolled your eyes at him. “Shut up.” 

“What are you doing?” 

“Nothing,” You answered as you closed the freezer.

He gave you a look. “Why are you being weird?”

“I’m not.”

“You definitely are.” 

You stayed quiet, instead of rebutting him that time around, and then you sighed. “Okay, I’ll tell you, but you have to promise not to tell anyone.” 

Steve nodded quicker than you expected him to. “Okay, promise.” 

“There’s this specific kind of ice cream I get,” You started, trying hard not to roll your eyes at yourself because of how silly it felt saying this out loud. “It’s stupidly expensive, but at the same time, worth every penny, and I hate having to share it, so I’ve been keeping it hidden behind the bag of frozen brussels sprouts because I didn’t think any of you would look back there.” 

For a moment, Steve was quiet, which didn’t do anything to help you feel any less silly, and then he let out an amused sound. “That’s kind of brilliant.” 

“And also very insane, I know, but thank you,” You gave him a small smile. “So, why are you up right now?”

“I had a shitty dream and couldn’t go back to sleep, so I was just gonna watch TV in the living room.” 

A small frown took over your features for a brief moment; even in the darkness, Steve could see that, and then you nodded at his words and opened the freezer again so that you could pull out your ice cream. You then grabbed two spoons and made your way into the living room, heading for the couch. Steve didn’t follow you at first, not until you said, “You coming?” 

He gave you a small, questioning smile. “You’re letting me have some of your fancy ice cream?”

“Shitty dreams call for fancy ice cream,” You said as you pulled a blanket over you to cover your lap and then handed a spoon over to Steve when he sat down next to you and stole some of the blanket. “Do you wanna talk about the dream?” 

A part of you expected him to say no, and you would’ve been okay with that; you just wanted him to know that you cared. But, he didn’t shake his head at your question. 

“It’s this recurring dream that I’ve been having since elementary school. It doesn’t happen too often anymore, but when it does, it really sucks,” Steve explained. “It’s basically me stuck alone in this dark maze, and there’s no way to get out. I just run around in circles and keep getting stuck at dead ends until I wake up.”  

“Fuck, that sounds terrible,” You pulled the top off the carton of ice cream and handed it over to him. “Here.” 

Steve scooped out a spoonful and proceeded to try your fancy ice cream, and then let out a surprised sound. “Holy shit, this is amazing.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his reaction. “I know.”

“How expensive is ‘stupidly expensive’?” 

“No comment.” 

“Okay, in that case, I feel truly honored that you’re sharing this with me.” 

“You’re welcome,” You told him as you shifted a little on the couch. Your knee accidentally brushed his thigh, and you immediately felt warm all over. 

This wasn’t the first time that you felt something around Steve. Probably from the moment you met him, you had a sort of pull toward him. But it was easy not to think too much into it, at first, because you didn’t see him super often, and it was rare that you two would ever talk outside of a group setting. Living with him was completely different, though. Whatever you had tried to deny and avoid before could not be pushed away the more you got to really know him. 

In this moment, a comforting quietness took over as you two shared your ice cream in the darkness of the living room. Neither of you even made any move to turn on the TV, even though that had been the plan at first. 

“Hey, um, I definitely don’t say this enough, but thank you for letting me live here,” You abruptly told him. You didn’t know where your sudden sentimental words were coming from, but you just wanted to say them right then. You’d been really grateful for the last three months, and you wanted to make sure Steve knew that. 

“No problem. I really like having everyone here. It’s nice, like, actually making this house feel like a home for once,” He responded, looking at you in the darkness. “If that makes sense.”

“It makes complete sense,” You told him with a quick nod. You thought about his bad dream and how what he had in his house now was quite literally the opposite of that; there was no loneliness here anymore. “We’re all like a little family, I guess. Cousins, basically? Or actually siblings would probably make the most sense.” 

He laughed a little as he shook his head. “I can see Robin as a sister, but you not so much.”

His words surprised you and made you feel a little shy all of a sudden, but you didn’t want to get quiet or brush past them. 

“Should I feel offended or flattered about that?” You asked before you could potentially think better of it. Was it the darkness that was making you both feel somewhat bold for once? 

“I guess that depends on how you see me,” Steve answered quietly. “Cousin, sibling, just a friend?”

You considered his question for a moment before deciding to continue on the train of honesty. “None of the above.”

You knew what your answer was really telling him, and, surprisingly enough, it didn’t feel all that scary admitting this to him. 

You were about to toss the question back at him, but Steve was kissing you before you could. And no, there was absolutely nothing about the kiss that sucked, even though you kind of wanted it to so that things could just stay as they were. Even before “What does this mean?” questions were spoken between you and him, you were already thinking ahead about how much this would change everything if it actually did mean something. 

He tasted sweet, just like the ice cream you both had been sharing moments ago, and that ice cream was pushed to the side as you let him pull you into his lap. 

At first, it all started out as simply “two people having fun,” both of you wholeheartedly agreed on that, but then it just as quickly turned serious. A month and a half later, one night when you were about to sneak back into your bedroom before the sun came up, Steve asked you to be his girlfriend and you happily smiled and nodded in answer. 

You were reminded of that first night with him in this moment. A similar quietness took over once Avery’s crying came to a stop when she finally got her bottle. And now that there was actual silence in the house, it felt damn near deafening. 

Your and Steve’s conversation from earlier definitely wasn’t done, but neither of you brought it up again when Robin and Eddie left. 

He was feeding Avery, and you were sitting next to him on the couch, waiting for him to be done because you were on burping duty. 

“Are we fighting?” You asked him. 

Steve looked at you for a second and then back down at Avery. “Maybe a little bit.”

“Okay, well, can we just skip to the making up part?” You asked as you shifted a little closer to him, lips briefly finding his cheek and then you pouted at him. “I don’t wanna fight with you.”

His eyes met yours again, and you could see his features softening. “You can be honest with me. Actually, I really need you to be honest with me. Do you want to keep us a secret forever?”

His questioning words were soft, and you knew that he was essentially asking if you were second-guessing things between you and him, if you didn’t think it was serious like he did, and you quickly wanted to tell him that that wasn’t the case at all. 

“No, of course not. I’d love to do all of the disgustingly cute stuff with you in public and in front of our friends. Sometimes it actually pains me that I can’t hold your hand or cuddle up next to you when we’re all watching TV out here on the couch,” You said, and noticed a small smile tug at his lips. “But, I just don’t want things to change between us and everyone.”

Steve shook his head at your words. “Nothing's gonna change. It’ll probably be a shock at first, but then that’ll quickly blow over, and everything will be normal. We’ll finally get to go on a real date, and you won’t have to sneak out of my room before everyone else wakes up anymore, and we won’t have to sit on opposite sides of the room during movie nights.”

You genuinely loved the sound of that, every single thing that Steve had said; it was perfect to you. You wanted all of those things with Steve and then some. And because of that, you finally let yourself lean into his words a little bit instead of completely arguing them. 

“Promise?”

He nodded immediately. “Promise. And even if they do somehow see this as terrible news— which they won’t, but I’m just throwing out the worst case scenario for a second— we’ll figure it out because I like you a lot and that’s definitely not gonna change.” 

You leaned in to kiss him then. It was quick, even though neither of you wanted it to be, and at an awkward angle because you didn’t want to disturb Avery. 

“Okay, screw it, let’s tell them tonight,” You said when you pulled back from the kiss and met his gaze again. 

Steve laughed a little at your newfound enthusiasm. “Easy there, tiger. I still do think we should wait until we’re all off of babysitting duty.”

Logically, that did make the most sense. Throwing this news at Robin and Eddie tonight would pull focus from the one thing that you all needed to focus on completely. 

“Okay, yeah, you’re right,” You nodded. “Tomorrow then.”

Steve nodded back and smiled at you. “Tomorrow.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“Are we doing something wrong?” You asked, trying to hold back your yawn but failing miserably. “It’s two in the morning, why is she still awake?” 

“I don’t know, but I’m personally seconds away from passing out,” Robin yawned too and shifted on the couch, resting her head against the arm of it. 

“She’s not crying right now, so I’m counting this as a win,” Eddie said, somehow more wide awake than any of you. He was sitting on the small loveseat with Avery in his lap, and her eyes were glued to the movie playing on the TV. “And I’m her favorite, so double win.” 

Eddie was right about at least one of those things— you weren’t entirely sure if you would consider him as her favorite; although she did seem pretty content with him, you figured it was because where he was sitting had the closest view to the TV. 

But, yes, she wasn’t crying at this moment, and you also counted that as a huge win. However, as it got later and later into the night, you were starting to wonder if this was a good idea because she did not seem as if she was getting tired. 

At one point, Robin tried turning off the TV because you all thought that maybe that would help her fall asleep. But, instead, the second the TV was off, Avery started crying, so Robin immediately turned it back on, and you all decided to just let her keep watching the movie and hopefully she’d get tired eventually. You all were still waiting for that “eventually” to happen.  

“And at least, she has good taste,” Eddie continued. “There’s much worse stuff we could be watching right now.” 

“Please tell me you have other Muppets movies,” You said, turning to look at Steve, who was sitting on the couch with Robin. You opted for being on the carpeted floor because you wanted to at least lie down, even though you couldn’t go to sleep. “I can’t take watching this one for a third time.” 

Robin immediately shook her head before Steve could answer your question. “No, we shouldn’t change it. What if she only likes The Muppets Take Manhattan?”

“She’s seven months old. I don’t think she’ll know the difference between this one and, like, the first one.”

“Still. I don’t think we should take our chances.”  

“And this is the only Muppets movie I have, so we’re sadly stuck with it,” Steve jumped in, and you sighed as you readjusted the throw blanket draped across your body. 

“Hey, since Eddie is her favorite. He should stay up with her, while the rest of us go to sleep,” Robin suggested, and you smiled at her words. 

Eddie immediately gave her a look. “That is the most evil thing you have ever said.” 

“I think that’s a brilliant idea,” You said, bypassing his words. “We should vote on it.”

“Fuc— Fudge off,” Eddie quickly responded. “You can’t leave me alone. You guys know I’ll throw up if she poops or throws up.”

Robin sighed. “Fine, we won’t leave you to fend for yourself.”

“Thanks. How considerate of you,” Eddie responded in the most deadpan voice ever. 

“Is this when we finally turn on each other?” Steve asked, an amused yet tired smile on his face. “I’m honestly surprised it hasn’t happened sooner.”

Robin shook her head. “No, we are one big happy family.”

“One big happy sleep-deprived family,” You corrected her. 

She let out a laugh. “Sadly, yes.”

The credits for the movie started rolling, and before Avery could get fussy, Steve got up from the couch to restart it. 

It was toward the end of that third rewatch of The Muppets Take Manhattan that Avery finally fell asleep, and Eddie successfully set her down in her crib without waking her. You all simply stayed in the living room because it made the most sense, and it also made waking up at five in the morning due to Avery’s crying easier, too, since none of you were completely comfortable or were even having a good sleep. 

Steve got up to get her, and you helped him change her, while Robin and Eddie went into the kitchen to make her a bottle. At this point, the four of you had the routine down to a science. 

“What time is Shelley coming?” Steve was the one to ask the question that you and Eddie were also wondering. 

“She said no later than seven,” Robin answered as she turned the TV to something not Muppets related. 

It was exactly 6:57 when the doorbell rang, and Robin practically ran over to the front door to open it. 

For the most part, the goodbyes were quick. Shelley thanked you all profusely for babysitting for the night, and then she went to grab Avery, and it was so obvious just how happy she was to see her mom. There was the widest smile on her face that genuinely warmed your heart and made how exhausting last night had been sort of worth it. 

Eddie and Steve took down the crib and put it in the car, and you and Robin packed up everything else— all of the feeding stuff in the kitchen, the bibs strewn about the living room, and a stray toy that she played with once before getting bored with it. 

You all walked them to the car, saying your final goodbyes to Avery once she was strapped in her car seat, and then the four of you waved at the car as Shelley drove away like you were sending a child off to college. 

“Guys, I know last night was kinda rough, but I already miss her,” Eddie said when the car turned the corner and was completely out of view. 

“We should so open up a daycare center,” Robin said as the four of you started walking back into the house. 

You let out a soft laugh at her words. “I’m gonna pretend that’s the exhaustion talking and you don’t really believe that’s a good idea.”

“Yeah, actually, let’s wait until I get a full eight hours of sleep, and then we can maybe revisit that idea.”

“I would list a bunch of reasons why that’s an idea we should never revisit, but I’m really close to peeing my pants right now, so we’ll save that for a second. Hold on,” Eddie said before heading to the bathroom. 

Steve plopped down on the couch, and you followed suit, not thinking twice before sitting down right next to him and cuddling into his side. It was your sleep-deprived brain telling you to do it, completely forgetting that you and Steve did not do this type of thing in front of your friends. 

“Oh?” Robin said, immediately giving you both a surprised look as Steve wrapped an arm around you, and you sighed in contentment. Her one questioning word was enough to make you realize what you two had just done, but you were too tired to move and pretend that you didn’t want to simply just be in his arms right then. “What’s happening here?”

Steve let out a yawn. “Oh, yeah, we’re dating.” 

He said it like it was the most normal thing ever— as if she had just asked him what time it was or what the weather would be like for the day— and his words had a nonchalance to them that made you want to laugh and push yourself impossibly closer to him. 

You weren’t entirely sure what you expected Robin to say in response to this simply stated news, but it definitely wasn’t a happily sighed, “Finally.”

Your eyebrows furrowed at that. “Finally?”

“Yeah, finally, we don’t have to pretend anymore that you two aren’t obsessed with each other,” Robin responded, and before you and Steve could say anything to that, Eddie walked back into the living room. 

“What’s happening?”

“They admitted that they’re dating.”

“Fuck, yeah. Finally,” Eddie said, and did a singular clap of his hands. “We were really starting to wonder how long you guys were gonna keep it a secret.”

“How long have you guys known?” Steve asked. This was definitely not the conversation to have on practically zero hours of sleep, but you were curious and you wanted to know the answer too. 

“We started suspecting like a month ago, but the last few weeks it felt really obvious,” Robin answered. 

“It was actually hilarious,” Eddie chimed in. “Robin came up to me one night and was like, ‘They’re definitely fucking, right?’” He laughed, and it surprised you to hear him say that. You honestly thought that you and Steve had been great at keeping things a secret. “Anyway, though, as long as you guys aren’t having sex in public spaces of the house, we strongly support your relationship.” 

That made you laugh. “We promise to keep all sexual activity in our bedrooms.” 

“Okay, but what about if you guys aren’t here and we’re the only two in the house?” Steve asked. 

Robin quickly shook her head. “Absolutely no having sex on the communal couch that we all sit on. Don’t make me murder you, dingus.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“No,” you lied, pretending to pay close attention to the vinyl spinning across from you, “Yes. What’s taking Murray so long?” 

Steve answered with a shrug, glancing around the booth the two of you were currently holed up in. “You’re just like Robin. So antsy.” 

“Well, Robin is currently having a fancy dinner with her girlfriend, while I'm stuck in a stuffy booth with my boyfriend waiting for a psychotic man to smuggle us in intel.” You huffed, body slumping in the chair. “We haven’t been on a date in ages.” 

Your boyfriend’s face softened, pushing himself off the shelf to stalk towards you. “Baby-“ 

“And I know it’s selfish of me to be saying that when the world is basically ending, but-ugh.” You cut yourself off with a groan, watching as he held his hand out for you to grab. You folded your hand in his, letting him spin you out of the chair, pulling your body taut to his. 

“It’s not selfish.” He swore, smiling as your hands wrapped around his neck. The gentle sound of Kim Carnes playing in the background. “Come on, dance with me. We can have our own date here.” 

You didn’t even have time to protest, Steve taking your body against his swaying messily to the music. 

“Okay, okay.” You giggled, doing your best to keep up with each time he tried to spin you in the tiny room. At one point, he kept you latched to his side, leaning over to push the volume control button up. A wide smirk on his face before he spun you around again. Both of your smiles were wide, lost in the joy that radiated off of each other. 

“She’s got Bette Davis eyes.” Steve sang off-key, pulling you back from a spin. His front pressed against your back, the two of you swaying along as the song ended. Both of you are out of breath, bodies wracked with giggles. A sweet reprieve of love, one that neither of you realized you needed. 

“I love you.” He whispered your name, his warm breath against your ear making your body shiver. His hands still gripping your jean-clad hips. 

“I love you. Missed this.” You whispered, feeling his lips trail down your ear, pressing open-mouthed kisses against the skin of your neck. This was something else the end of the world didn’t allocate time for; Steve and you rarely got a moment alone. You loved Robin, but if you weren’t so thankful, she and Vicki finally got together, so it meant you two had a night alone. 

His hands reached up your shirt, cupping your breasts through your bra roughly. You were so caught up in his hands, his lips sucking the skin of your neck, you didn’t even realize you were both still very much at the station. 

“Baby.” You whined, pushing pathetically against him. You didn’t want him to stop, but the two of you had to keep the music going. 

“Hmmm?” He hummed against your skin, one of his hands reaching down your stomach, cupping your clothed cunt. Your stomach turned with want, burning with desire. You repeated the pet name, warning him to stop.

“It’s just us in here. I’ll be fast.” He whispered, his hand popping open your jeans. Fingers pressing against the wet patch that had formed against your panties. He pushed his hips against your ass, his hardening cock pressing against you. You could feel your resolve crumbling with each gentle stroke of your clothed heat.

“You have to be fast.” 

“Fuck yes.” He sighed, speeding up the movement of his hands. You were ready to succumb to his ministrations before the silence of the music ending brought you back to reasonable thinking. 

“Wait, we can’t let the music go to dead air. They’ll panic.” You whimpered, trying to think as rationally as you could while Steve’s hands were all over you. The last thing you needed was the entire crawl squad busting in here while your pants were down, literally. 

“Fuck, fuck what’s the longest song we have?” He reluctantly took his hands off you, rushing to the crates in the back. All you could do was hum in thought, your mind running a thousand miles a minute while Steve threw around records, the bulge in his jeans prominent. If you weren’t so wound up, maybe you would’ve giggled at the sight. 

“Fuck uhh Iron Maiden three years ago? They had like a 10-minute song, right?” You offered up, his eyes shining. 

“God, baby, I’m gonna fuck the hell out of you.” He whistled, holding up the vinyl like a championship trophy. “13 minutes and 39 seconds to be exact.” 

Your cheeks flushed at his words, your underwear getting damper by the minute. “Do you think that’s enough time?” 

He scoffed, plopping himself down in the chair. “Look at you asking silly questions. Is 13 minutes enough time to make you come? I could do it in 5. Ridiculous.” He mumbled the last part under his breath, setting the vinyl up quickly. 

You rolled your eyes, still unbelieving that you agreed to this. He shushed you while the on-air light flickered on, the neon lights buzzing. 

“Alright, Hawkins,” Steve’s radio voice echoed through the microphone. “We are setting sail. This next one is on the longer side, but trust me. It’s gonna be worth every single second.” His eyes were on you, while you made a show of pulling the rough fabric of your pants down your hips. 

“Iron Maiden, Rime of the Ancient Mariner, hold on to your sea legs!” And he put the needle down, the on-air light flickering off. The guitar riffs bleeding through his headphones matched the thump of your heart. 

“Gotta make every second count.” You smiled, keeping your shirt on for the sake of emergencies. Steve wasted no time in pulling you to him, your lips meeting with a feverish passion. His tongue explored your mouth while his hands found your hips again. His fingers dancing along your waistline, dipping inside your panties. He swallowed your shocked gasps, his fingertips sinking into your soaked cunt at last. “Oh, baby. You really needed this.” 

All you could do was nod, your head feeling heavy as you leaned against him. He rubbed lazy circles around your clit before he slid two fingers inside you with little resistance. “S-steve.” You stuttered out, keeping an eye on the vinyl grooves. 

“Shhhhh. Don’t focus on that. Gotta get you ready.” He cooed, coaxing more beautiful moans from your lips. Stretching you out as much as he could, given the circumstances. His cock was aching in his jeans, his other hand abandoned your back, fumbling with his zipper. His jeans fell to his knees, his cock sitting large and pretty in his tighty whities you always teased him about. 

Your cunt was clenching around his fingers, desperately needing him. When his fingers pulled out tears almost sprang to your eyes, the emptiness made your head spin. “Turn round, baby.” His saccharine voice spoke. You listened, elbows finding the table, leaning against the control panel. His fingers hooked themselves in your underwear, pulling them to the floor. 

A strangled moan escaped his lips, “Fuck I wish I had time to taste you.” 

“Steve.” You were dripping for him, clenching around nothing while he pulled his cock out. He spat in his hand, rubbing the spit against your entrance. Not like you needed it, but the sensation had your eyes rolling into the back of your head regardless. 

“Don’t worry, baby. I got you. Good girl, just like that, take this cock.” The moment his cock slid in between your lips, you were a goner, your cunt sucking his tip in greedily. With every inch he pushed in, you suckled around him, the sound already obscene. 

When his hips met yours, he let out a pornographic moan. One that you’d keep in your memory for late nights alone. “So fucking tight. Basically squeezing me to death,” He breathed out, “I’m not going nowhere, baby.” He pulled his cock out halfway, admiring his length dripping in your wetness, before slamming back in. Keeping up a steady pace, hitting the deepest spots inside your cunt from this angle. 

“Feel so s’good. Fuck I needed this.” You whimpered out, the faint reflection of the two of you in the glass only spurring you on more. With one hand on your hip, the other cupped the back of your neck, just enough pressure to keep you still. One thing about Steve Harrington was that he knew how to fuck. He knew your body like the back of his hand, and he played it to his advantage every time. 

“I know you did. Letting me fuck you in here. Where anyone could walk in.” He growled, watching your ass ripple with each thrust. You clenched around him at his words, only making a deep laugh escape his chest. 

“Oh, you like that?” He mocked, your head nodding almost instantly. You couldn’t think, you couldn’t breathe. All you could feel was Steve’s cock splitting you apart. 

“Yeah, of course you do, my dirty little slut.” A harsh slap on your ass punctuated his words. This wasn’t making love; this was dirty. A primal fuck that the two of you needed so desperately. 

He wasn’t taking your moans for an answer, continuing as his dirty mind ran rampant with each squelch of your cunt around him. “Say it. Say it or I stop.” 

You could barely hold yourself up with your elbows, desperately trying to make sure you didn’t hit any buttons. “I’m your dirty little slut. Please don’t stop. Please.” 

Tears were pricking your eyes at how fast and deep his movements were, the sound of skin hitting skin drowning out the still-spinning Iron Maiden song in the background. “Not gonna stop. Not until you’re cumming around my cock.” 

A particularly deep thrust hit a spot that had your legs shaking, your body almost falling into the control board. Only stopped by Steve’s arm pulling you up to his chest, the position making him deeper inside you if that was even possible. 

“You don’t want all of Hawkins hearing you cum around me, do you?” He laughed, pressing sloppy kisses to your shoulder. “Or do you?” 

All you could do was nod mindlessly, your high approaching like a freight train. “I bet you’d love that, huh? Do you want me to turn the mic on? Let everyone hear how good I fuck you?” 

All you could do was wail, “Steve, Steve, I’m gonna cum.” 

“Yeah, you are.” He grunted, his hand reaching down to rub lazy circles on your swollen clit. “Should we let everyone hear how I make this pussy cream? How only I can make you feel this good?” 

That was all it took for you to fall pliant in his arms, your cunt spasming around him. Your vision went dark, legs shaking as the euphoria washed over every nerve in your body. 

When you came to Steve’s hips were stuttering, his own high approaching. He was whispering small praises into your ears, hands holding your body close to his. “That’s my girl. Did so well for me. Gonna make me come, huh? Love you.” 

“Want it so bad.” You sobbed, your nails digging into his forearms while he stilled, cock twitching, his release deep inside you. Steve’s head shoved deep into the crook of your neck, grunting your name over and over. 

The booth was hot, the air humid and sticky with sex. The vinyl crackling next to you two, the song almost over. 

“And you thought 13 minutes wasn’t enough.” Steve laughed, sweat dripping off his brow and onto your own slicked skin. The two of you were a mess. The booth's glass is foggy at the bottom. 

He pressed a soft kiss to your head before slipping his length out of you, hissing at the friction. His cum dribbled out of you, dripping down your inner thighs, making his over-sensitive cock twitch. “Stop ogling me and get me a towel.” You whined, snapping him out of his boyish haze. 

He rifled through your bag using a wet wipe to clean you up, pulling your underwear and pants up for you while you were on shaky legs. You left your pants unbuttoned, content to plop down in the chair. Watching as Steve fumbled around for his own pants. A record scratch brought you out of your own ogling, switching over to another song. Unbothered with an intro this time. 

“I’ll get us some water. Are you okay? I wasn’t too rough, was I?” Steve was still out of breath, leaning down to press soft kisses to your lips. You shook your head, a wicked grin on your lips.

“Not at all, baby. Though I didn’t know you were so into the idea of Hawkins hearing you split me open.” 

His cheeks flushed, opening the door to the booth. “Shut up. You loved it.” 

Your giggles wafted through the building as he walked into the kitchenette to retrieve cold water for the two of you. The moment Steve tossed the chilled bottle to you, you were chugging it down. 

“I love you, sweet girl.” He smiled, smoothing down your frizzy hair for you. “Maybe if we get a break from sudden death, I’ll take you to a nice dinner. How’s that?” 

Nodding, you leaned into his touch, kissing his hand. “Sounds like a plan, Harrington.” 

Your eyes were booting into his; there was no one else you’d rather face death with than him. These last few years have brought the two of you closer with every obstacle. 

“Yoo hoo!” A loud voice yelled, the front door of the station banging open with a thud. The two of you jumped up, both still disheveled. “I’ve been waiting outside for like five minutes.” Murray was standing there, eyes already narrowing in on you two. If it wasn’t your appearance, or the sheer smell alone, then your completely unbuttoned pants would have given light to what the two of you had been doing while he waited outside. 

Steve was about to speak, getting cut off by Murray’s pointed laugh. “Oh my god. You disgusting kids.” He spoke, nothing but humor in his words. “Meet me outside in a few, and I'll hand over everything. Wash your hands.” He pointed at Steve while you turned around to button your pants back up. Steve was red in the face, holding his hands out like they were poisoned. 

“He has a point.” You broke the awkward silence that had been hanging since the door closed. 

He gave you that lopsided grin, the one that always sat just shy of confident when it was directed at you. “Hey. Dropping these off before Henderson scratches them. I swear he puts the tapes in the VCR with the same enthusiasm he has for summoning demodogs.” He lifted a paper bag full of rentals and offered it out.

You stepped aside to let him in, taking the bag but not before his fingers brushed yours. The contact sent a flick of warmth up your arm, not the dramatic kind that makes people gasp in books, but the kind that catches quietly under your ribs. You weren’t sure if he noticed, but his hand pulled away a little quicker than necessary.

Dustin shouted something from the back room, loud enough to rattle the vents. Steve huffed a laugh and nudged the door closed behind him as he walked into the living room. He kicked his shoes off like he’d done it a thousand times, because he had. This place had become familiar to him. You’d become familiar to him. And somehow that knowledge warmed you more than the afternoon sun slanting across the carpet.

He flopped onto the couch, elbows over the back, letting his head fall back dramatically. “I swear, every time I pick something up from Family Video, Kline shows up to yell about our shelving. Every time. Like I chose the shelving. Like I personally installed the shelving.” He peeked at you through the fall of his hair, the grin returning. “Anyway. I figured you might need something new to watch, unless Dustin has you trapped in one of his weird sci-fi marathons.”

You settled on the other end of the couch, cross-legged, the tapes set between you. “It’s not that weird,” you said softly, though the smile gave you away. “And you survived the marathons, too.”

“Barely.” He let out a dramatic sigh, then let the act falter as he turned to face you fully. His knee brushed yours in a way that felt almost accidental but never quite was when it came from him. He always hovered near you—not close enough to overwhelm, but close enough that you felt seen. You’d gotten used to it. Maybe too used to it.

There was something different in his face today, something you couldn’t place. Not nerves exactly, but something halfway between steady and uncertain. His gaze lingered on you longer than normal before shifting to the tapes in your lap. “You find anything good?”

Your fingers drifted over the covers without thinking. “Trying to. He mixed everything up again. I’m pretty sure one of these cases has two different movies shoved in it.”

“Classic Henderson,” Steve murmured, but he didn’t seem focused on the tapes anymore. His eyes had softened in a way that made your pulse stumble. He looked like he was about to say something—something real, something heavy enough that he hesitated. “Hey, I was actually gonna—”

Dustin barreled into the hallway, a crash of sound and limbs. “Steve! You’re here! Good, because I figured out what was wrong with the antenna, and you have to see it, it’s so sick—”

Steve deflated in an instant, head dropping back against the couch. The moment snapped like it had never been there at all. Dustin launched himself into the room, completely oblivious, waving a broken piece of metal dangerously close to Steve’s face.

Steve sat up with a tight smile, rubbing his hands over his jeans like he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t. You felt the shift, that soft invisible thread between you pulled taut before disappearing entirely. He shot you a glance—quick, almost apologetic—before catching whatever Dustin was waving at him. “Okay, okay, dude, relax before you impale me. What’d you do now?”

Dustin launched into an enthusiastic explanation, words tumbling over each other. Steve tried to look interested. Mostly, he looked like a man who’d been shoved out of a doorway he’d just worked up the courage to walk through.

You sat quietly beside him, listening to your brother ramble, but your attention kept drifting back to Steve. It was in the set of his shoulders, the unfinished words still lingering behind his eyes. He’d been trying to tell you something. And whatever it was, he wasn’t done trying.

You weren’t sure what would happen when he finally managed to get you alone long enough to say it. But for the first time in a long time, the thought didn’t scare you. It sent that same gentle warmth rising in your chest—the kind you didn’t quite know how to name yet, but couldn’t ignore anymore.

---

The ride home from the Wheelers’ had always been a cramped, loud, chaotic experience, mostly because Dustin treated the back seat like a moving laboratory. Tonight was no different—he’d tossed a backpack stuffed with papers, wires, and half-built gadgets across the seat before climbing in, muttering about how he needed to reorganize everything “for efficiency.” Steve had glanced at you in the driveway with a weary, amused smile that told you he already regretted offering the ride, but he’d unlocked the car anyway. He always did.

You slid into the passenger seat and buckled in while Dustin slammed the back door shut with enough force to make Steve wince. Once everyone was settled, Steve started the car, the headlights cutting through the warm, late-evening haze that hovered over the quiet street. The windows were cracked just enough to let in the summer air, and you rested your hands in your lap, feeling that comfortable, familiar tension settle between you and Steve—the kind that was never unpleasant, only warm and awkward in a way you’d grown used to.

He glanced over as he pulled away from the curb. “So. Did you guys have fun or did you suffer through another round of Wheeler Monopoly hell?”

The question was casual, but the look he slid you was not. It lingered, soft at the corners, a little nervous in the middle. You felt the weight of it press lightly beneath your ribs. “It wasn’t that bad,” you said quietly. “Dustin tried to cheat four times.”

“Hey!” Dustin snapped from the back seat. “Three times. The fourth doesn’t count because the rulebook didn’t specify—”

“It absolutely specified, dude,” Steve said, shaking his head. “It’s a published game. There are rules. You can’t just invent your own stock market mid-round.”

“I was innovating,” Dustin insisted, already rummaging for something in his bag.

Steve exhaled through a laugh and shot another glance your way. He always did that—threw his jokes toward the air, but aimed his eyes at you, as if checking whether you were smiling. And you were, even if you looked down to hide it.

The road curved toward your neighborhood, streetlamps drifting past in golden streaks. From the corner of your eye, you noticed Steve tap his fingers nervously on the wheel, like he was working himself up to something. His shoulders were tight, his jaw flexing softly the way it did when he was trying to gather courage without drawing attention.

After a moment of silence, he tried again. “Listen, I—” He cleared his throat. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you. Actually, not tell you, more like… ask you? Or maybe—”

Dustin leaned forward between the seats so suddenly that both you and Steve flinched. “Okay, so imagine this,” he said, breathless with excitement, waving a notebook near Steve’s face. “If I rewire the antenna and get the gain up by just, like, one decibel—”

“Dude, hold on,” Steve said, swatting the notebook away gently. He tried to keep his voice even, but you could hear the frustration simmering underneath. “I’m talking.”

“You weren’t saying anything important yet.”

“I was literally in the middle of talking!”

“To me,” Dustin corrected smugly. “You weren’t saying anything interesting to me.”

Steve inhaled slowly through his nose, gripping the wheel like it might keep him grounded. You bit the inside of your cheek to stop from laughing, because you could see the exact moment he abandoned his almost-confession and resigned himself to Dustin’s rambling.

“Just… go back to whatever you were doing back there,” Steve muttered.

“You mean saving science? Already on it.” Dustin retreated to the back seat and immediately started scribbling again.

Steve let out a long, slow breath, the kind he usually saved for demobat stories or Customer Service Nightmares at Family Video. He didn’t look at you yet. You didn’t look at him either. The interrupted moment hung between you, fragile and obvious.

When he finally risked a side glance, the faintest smile tugged at his mouth—a mix of embarrassment and something softer. “Anyway,” he said quietly, “I was just gonna ask if you, uh… had a good time tonight.”

He’d changed his wording at the last second. You heard it. You wondered if he knew you heard it. “I did,” you murmured, letting your gaze settle on him. “It was nice.”

That small smile of his grew a little, warming the dim car. He was about to say something else—you saw the breath he pulled in, the shift of his shoulders—but Dustin cut him off again. “Steve, turn left! You missed the shortcut!”

“It’s literally two minutes longer,” Steve snapped. “Two minutes! We’re talking blocks, man, not a cross-country trip.” You stifled another laugh. Steve shot you an exhausted, pleading look before turning onto the familiar street. When he parked outside your house, he put the car in park but didn’t immediately shut off the engine. His fingers tapped the wheel again, a restless rhythm. “Hey,” he tried once more, turning slightly in his seat. “I wanted to—”

“Steve, can you help me carry my stuff!?” Dustin bellowed as he launched himself out of the back seat, already grabbing for the door to your house. “I need both hands and probably yours too!”

Steve sagged back against his seat like someone had deflated him. He dragged a hand down his face, muttering something that sounded like a plea for mercy.

You reached for the door handle, hesitating for just a heartbeat. “You can tell me whatever it was later,” you said, voice soft enough that only he would hear.

His eyes found yours again. Whatever he’d been trying to say was still there, simmering just under the surface. A slow smile curved onto his lips, small but genuine. “Yeah,” he murmured. “Later.”

You stepped out of the car, the warm summer air brushing your face. Dustin yelled your name from the porch. Steve groaned, climbed out of the driver’s side, and shot you one last look before going to help your brother.

It wasn’t the confession he’d wanted to give you. But it was coming—you could feel it. And judging by the way he watched you walk toward the house, he wasn’t giving up yet.

---

Family Video was quiet in that late-afternoon way that made the fluorescent lights buzz louder than any customer ever could. The aisles were empty, the return bin was half-full, and Steve was leaning over the counter like a man whose soul had been wrestled out of his body. He kept folding and unfolding the same tape return slip, eyes unfocused, jaw set in that defeated angle that Robin recognized instantly. She flicked a pen cap at his shoulder. “Okay, what’s with the tragic slouch? Did someone rent all the good horror movies again, or are you just being dramatic for attention?”

Steve didn’t look up. He just made a noise that could’ve meant many things: frustration, embarrassment, existential collapse. Robin sighed, circled around the counter, and planted herself across from him with the posture of someone preparing for an interrogation. “Talk,” she demanded, snapping her fingers in front of his face.

He swatted her hand away. “Stop. I’m not a dog.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” she muttered. “Now spill it. Your energy today is… weird. And not the usual ‘I’m pretty but tired’ weird. This is ‘something happened and I’m repressing it like a coward’ weird.”

Steve groaned, then let his forehead drop onto the counter with an audible thunk. “I tried to talk to her again.”

Robin perked up instantly. “Oh! Finally! Great! So what’d you say? Did you ask her out? Did you actually form a full sentence? Did you—”

“I didn’t get that far,” he mumbled into the countertop. “Dustin wouldn’t shut up.”

Robin blinked once. “Like… interrupting you?”

“Like climbing over the front seat of my car with a notebook to show me a sketch of an antenna while I was trying to confess my feelings.” Steve lifted his head, eyes hollow with dramatic suffering. “It was like being attacked by a hyperactive raccoon.”

Robin snorted so hard she almost choked. “God, that’s beautiful. Horrible. Hilarious. But mostly horrible.”

“Thank you for your support,” he said dryly.

“Oh, I’m supporting you,” she assured, tapping the counter rhythmically. “Just not your terrible strategy. You need to stop trying to talk to her when Dustin is within a three-mile radius. He’s like a tiny tornado with opinions.”

Steve pushed his hair back with both hands. “I know, I know. I just thought maybe he’d… I don’t know, fall asleep? Or get distracted? Or explode?”

“He’s Dustin,” Robin reminded him, eyebrows raised. “He gets more energized as the day goes on. By midnight he’s seconds away from achieving orbital lift.”

Steve sighed again and leaned back against the counter, arms crossed tight. “I just… I’m not good at this stuff, okay? She’s not like those other girls I used to date. I don’t want to rush it or freak her out.”

“That’s sweet,” Robin said. “But also incredibly stupid.”

He glared at her. “How is that stupid?”

“Because you’re overthinking it, dingus,” she said, flicking his forehead as punishment. “She already likes you.”

Steve froze, blinking. “She—she does?”

“Oh my god.” Robin pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes. “You’re helpless. You’re actually helpless.”

“That’s not an answer!” he hissed.

Robin dropped her hands and stared him down, speaking slowly for maximum effect. “She. Likes. You.”

Steve stared back, a flush creeping up the side of his neck. “You don’t know that.”

“I absolutely do.” She jabbed a finger into his chest. “You get all flustered and stupid around her, and she gets all quiet and wide-eyed around you. It’s like watching two baby deer try to merge onto a highway.”

Steve let out a despairing noise. “I can’t believe you compared me to a deer.”

“Oh, you’re both deer,” she insisted. “Deer in love. Pathetic. Adorable. Infuriatingly slow.”

He ran a hand over his face again, groaning. “I just… I want it to be the right moment. And every time it almost is—”

“Dustin blows it,” Robin finished. “Because that kid has zero awareness of anything except science and snacks.”

Steve laughed, but it was tired around the edges. “Yeah. Pretty much.”

Robin planted her hands on her hips like she was about to deliver a lecture. “Okay. Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to ask her out. Soon. Not ‘eventually’ or ‘when the universe aligns.’ Soon. Before Dustin adopts you into his personal schedule for the week.”

“I’m working on it,” he insisted.

“No, you’re not,” she said. “You’re waiting for signs and moments and dramatic lighting. What you need to do is open your mouth and say, ‘Hey, I like you. Want to go out?’”

Steve looked deeply scandalized. “That’s—no, that’s too blunt. I can’t just say it like that.”

“Well, you definitely can’t say it while Henderson is crawling on the car seat like a feral goblin.”

“Okay, that’s fair.”

Robin leaned her elbows against the counter, eyeing him closely. “Be honest. Are you scared because she’s quiet?”

He hesitated before nodding once. “I don’t want to make her uncomfortable. She’s been through… a lot. We all have, but she… you know.”

Robin softened. “Yeah. I get it. But trust me, she’s not scared of you. She’s scared of… saying the wrong thing. Or being too much. Or not enough. You two speak in the same dialect.”

Steve’s breath stalled at that, chest tightening with something warm and nervous. “So… what do I do?”

“What I’ve been telling you from the start.” Robin shrugged, smirking. “Ask her out, dingus.”

The bell above the door chimed as a customer wandered in, and Robin gave Steve one last pointed look before heading into the aisle to help. Steve stayed behind the counter, resting both palms flat on its surface, grounding himself. He took a deep breath and whispered to no one, “Okay. Ask her out. I can do that. I can do that.”

But even as he said it, he already knew one thing for sure: if Dustin showed up again, this plan didn’t stand a chance. And somehow, that made him smile anyway.

---

The Henderson garage always smelled faintly like dust, motor oil, and whatever science experiment Dustin had last abandoned on the workbench. That afternoon, the air was warm enough that the open door let in a slow spill of sunlight, brightening the cluttered space in strips. You stood beside one of the folding tables, sorting through the mess of screws and wires Dustin had dumped out “for easier access,” which, in reality, only made everything harder to find.

Steve hovered nearby with a half-hearted attempt at organization. He picked up tools, put them down, nudged wires into a neater line, and occasionally wiped his palms on his jeans like he wasn’t sure what to do with his hands. You noticed the way he kept drifting closer, every few seconds glancing at the house as if waiting for an opening that hadn’t come yet.

Dustin had barreled inside moments earlier shouting something about a “crucial component” and promising to return quickly. Experience had taught you that “quickly” usually meant at least fifteen minutes. The sudden silence left the garage feeling strangely private, a pocket of quiet neither of you were used to sharing without your brother’s voice filling it.

Steve leaned a hip against the table, crossing his arms loosely. “You’d think for someone so obsessed with organization, he’d, I don’t know… actually organize things.”

A soft laugh slipped out of you before you could hide it. “He says he has a system.”

“Yeah, well, his system is ‘pile everything in the same place and pray.’”

You didn’t mean to meet his eyes, but when you did, the warmth there caught you off guard. He smiled—not the big, charming grin he saved for customers or jokes, but the smaller one he used when it was just you. Something quieter, something that made your stomach tug downward and your breath lift higher at the same time.

For a moment you thought he might look away. Instead he took a step closer, letting his fingers trail lightly over the table until they stopped near yours. He didn’t touch you, but the space between you shrank until it was impossible not to feel the gravity of him. “Hey,” he said softly, more serious now, “can I ask you something?”

Your pulse jumped. He didn’t try to hide the nerves this time—his voice was careful, his eyes steady but uncertain, like he was testing thin ice. You tucked a loose screw back into the tray just to have something to do, but you nodded. “Yeah. What is it?”

Steve drew in a slow breath, shoulders rising, then dropping. He shifted so he was standing directly across from you now, close enough that you felt his warmth even through the small distance. “I’ve been… trying to find the right moment to say this. Probably overthinking it. Definitely overthinking it,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “But every time I try, something happens, and then I lose the nerve, and—”

He stopped, hands falling to his sides. His gaze flicked to your lips before returning to your eyes, almost apologetically, like the glance had slipped out by accident. “I really like—”

He didn’t get the rest out because Dustin slammed the back door open so hard it ricocheted off the wall with a loud crack. “Found it!” he shouted triumphantly.

Steve jolted back like someone had yanked him by the collar. You startled, the sound hitting you like a small explosion in the otherwise quiet garage.

Dustin sprinted inside with a fistful of random parts, not noticing the way Steve took two hasty steps backward or the way your breath had caught halfway up your throat. He launched straight into an explanation, words tumbling over each other at impossible speed.

“Okay, okay, okay, so remember last week when the signal strength dropped? I swear it wasn’t my fault, but I triple-checked, and it turns out the grounding was off by like a millimeter, but I fixed it, and then I realized if we attach this—this right here—” He shoved the piece of metal inches from Steve’s face. Steve blinked rapidly, stunned, trapped in the whirlwind of Dustin’s enthusiasm. “—then the whole thing works even better! Isn’t that awesome?”

“Yeah,” Steve croaked, the word paper-thin. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Yeah, buddy. That’s—uh. Great.”

Dustin looked between the two of you, oblivious to the tension he’d vaporized. “Come on, we have to test it. Steve, you hold the end with the clamp. And don’t drop it this time.”

You watched as Dustin pulled Steve by the wrist toward the other table. Steve threw you a look over his shoulder—a silent, desperate I was so close—before letting himself be dragged into whatever experiment Dustin was constructing.

You swallowed, grounding yourself against the table as the adrenaline slowly ebbed. You replayed the moment in your mind, the warmth in his voice, the way he’d leaned in like he was finally ready to say the thing he’d been dancing around for weeks.

You didn’t need the rest to know what he’d meant. And even though the confession had shattered midair, it left a soft, glowing heat in your chest that didn’t disappear.

Steve shot you another look while Dustin explained the next step, his expression full of apology and frustration and wanting. He wasn’t done trying. And now, for the first time, you knew that for certain. Even if Dustin was determined to make it the longest confession in history.

---

The Wheelers’ basement was the kind of cramped, mismatched space that should’ve felt chaotic, yet somehow always managed to settle into its own kind of rhythm. Blankets draped over the back of the couch, half-finished board games littered the coffee table, and a small mountain of snacks threatened to avalanche off the folding card table by the wall. The worn carpet muffled footsteps, and the single lamp cast the whole room in a warm amber glow that made everyone look a little softer, a little more like themselves.

Mike sat cross-legged near the TV, fiddling with the dials like he was performing surgery. Will had his sketchpad propped on his knee, quietly drawing as he waited. Lucas and Max were arguing over whose movie pick was superior—which mostly meant Max was calling Lucas boring and Lucas insisting she had no taste. Eleven sat beside Max, combing her fingers through a bowl of M&M’s in strict color order. Nancy leaned against the far wall, arms crossed as she offered periodic commentary, half amused and half exhausted by the group’s indecision.

Robin stood behind the couch drumming her fingers along the backrest, eyes drifting toward you with the kind of knowing smirk that made you want to hide under a blanket. She’d been watching Steve all night like she was tracking wildlife behavior for a nature documentary.

And Steve—Steve had claimed the floor beside you the moment everyone settled. He hadn’t even pretended to consider another spot. He’d just dropped down next to you, close enough that your knees brushed whenever either of you shifted. Every now and then you felt the light press of his shoulder barely grazing yours, the warmth of him almost magnetic. He looked relaxed, but you’d known him long enough to recognize the tension coiled beneath the easy slouch. He wasn’t just sitting near you; he was waiting.

The chaos around you built into its usual storm of voices, and you let yourself sink into the noise until it felt like background static. You were comfortable like this—surrounded by people you trusted, tucked into a corner where nothing demanded too much of you. Steve must’ve sensed the way your shoulders unknotted, because he leaned in slightly, voice pitched softer than the rest. “Hey,” he murmured, letting the word drift just for you. “You holding up with all these maniacs fighting about cinema like it’s life or death?”

You smiled, looking down at your hands for a moment. “I’ve witnessed worse. Dustin tried to convince me Star Wars counts as a Thanksgiving movie.”

Steve snorted, head tipping just a little closer. “He tried that on me too. Henderson logic is a dangerous thing.”

The way he said it—soft and amused, with that small, private grin—made your cheeks warm. You felt it before you could control it, and you ducked your head slightly, pretending to focus on Max and Lucas arguing in the middle of the room. Max pointed her movie case at Lucas like a weapon. “This is a classic. You have no taste.”

Lucas folded his arms. “You say that about everything you like.”

“That’s because I’m right.”

Robin leaned closer to Nancy and muttered, “I’m taking bets on when this turns into a wrestling match.”

Steve laughed under his breath, then looked back at you. The basement noise faded as his attention settled directly on you, the air shifting in that fluttery way it always did when he got close. His knee nudged yours—gentle, deliberate. You looked up, and the moment your eyes met, something tender flickered across his face.

He angled toward you fully now, ignoring the group entirely. “Hey,” he said again, quieter this time, “there’s something I’ve been wanting to—”

“Oh my god.” Dustin’s voice ricocheted down the stairs like a missile.

Steve closed his eyes, shoulders slumping in a despair that bordered on spiritual defeat. You startled just slightly as Dustin burst into the basement carrying two bags of popcorn and a bowl of something that was probably too sticky to be allowed near the carpet.

“I got snacks!” Dustin declared triumphantly. “Mike, move over! Will, stop drawing sad trees! Everyone, I have news!”

Robin groaned. “Here we go.”

Nancy pinched the bridge of her nose. “Do we want to know?”

Dustin ignored everyone and marched directly toward you and Steve. “Okay, so, you’re all gonna think this is genius, because it is,” he announced, setting the popcorn in the middle of the floor like it was an offering to the gods. “I mixed extra sugar into the caramel corn so we can stay awake through Lucas’ boring movie pick.”

Lucas sputtered. “It’s not boring!”

Max kicked him lightly. “It’s very boring.”

Steve tried to inhale, tried to restart the thing he’d been about to say, but Dustin plopped down between the two of you before he could get a syllable out, wedging himself with a full-body flop. Steve’s head snapped toward the ceiling like he was pleading for divine help.

“Dude,” Steve said weakly, “I—I was literally talking—”

“Great, you can finish later,” Dustin chirped while shoving popcorn into Steve’s hands. “Right now we need someone to test if the caramel-to-corn ratio is perfect.”

Robin snickered from behind the couch. “That’s the face of a man in agony.” Steve shot her a death glare. Robin only winked.

You sat very still, aware of how drastically the moment had shifted. Steve’s knee no longer brushed yours. His shoulder was no longer angled toward you. His expression, however, still carried that raw, half-exposed something he’d tried so hard to reveal before the interruption.

He looked at you again, a brief, fragile glance over Dustin’s head—apology, longing, frustration, all tangled together. You smiled gently, a small reassurance even if the moment was lost. His chest eased, just a bit.

Dustin, oblivious, leaned back between you both. “Okay! So. Who’s ready for a triple-feature?!”

Mike groaned loud enough to shake dust from the ceiling. Eleven offered a polite but confused nod. Will kept drawing. Nancy debated walking out. Lucas and Max started another argument. Robin leaned over the couch, whispering something at Steve that made him mutter a threat with no real bite.

And you sat there, tucked between your friends and your brother, with Steve only inches away behind an accidental Dustin-shaped barricade.

Another moment ruined.

Another truth postponed.

But Steve caught your eye again, a small promise resting quietly behind the frustration. He wasn’t giving up. Not yet. Not at all.

And you found yourself hoping—maybe for the first time—that Dustin might eventually take a snack break long enough for everything to finally fall into place.

---

A Saturday afternoon at your place was usually a safe bet for quiet, especially when Dustin wasn’t home. He’d taken off earlier with Lucas and Mike, something about a “high-stakes campaign planning session,” which meant you finally had a few hours where the house wasn’t vibrating with teenage enthusiasm. Steve had stopped by under the guise of “checking on that toolbox he left in the garage,” even though you both knew he’d left it on purpose the last time he was here.

You were sitting beside him on the couch, legs tucked beneath you, a gentle buzz of nerves threading through your chest. He was closer than usual—not subtle about it, either. His knee brushed yours whenever he shifted, and he kept glancing over with this determined little crease between his brows. You could tell he’d spent all morning psyching himself up to try again.

He cleared his throat and leaned toward you, elbows on his knees, hands clasped like he needed to keep them steady. “So I’ve been thinking,” he started, voice softer than the TV hum filling the room. “There’s something I’ve, uh… wanted to ask you. For a while.”

Your breath caught, your pulse fluttering. You met his eyes, and the look there—hesitant, hopeful, warm—made the room feel smaller. You felt him gather courage, felt something inside you answer it without needing words.

His knee bumped yours again, this time deliberate. “I just— when it’s us, like this… I feel—”

The front door slammed open so hard the hinges squealed. “There you are!” Max’s voice echoed down the hallway.

Steve’s shoulders sagged with the kind of dramatic despair that would’ve been funny if your heart hadn’t been thumping so hard a moment before. You both sat up straighter as Max stormed in, Eleven close behind her, both flushed from the walk and carrying enough urgency to power the whole house.

“Okay,” Max announced breathlessly, hands on her hips, “we need a ride.”

Eleven nodded with solemn intensity. “Very important.”

Steve blinked. “Why… why do you need a ride?”

“Because Robin said it was a good idea,” Max said, as if that answered everything.

You frowned. “Where is Robin?”

A beat later, Robin burst in through the still-open door, out of breath and dramatically pointing at the girls like an indictment. “They asked me first. But I don’t drive. And I told them that. Repeatedly.”

Eleven stepped forward with wide, pleading eyes. “Mall?”

Steve groaned into his hands. “Right now?”

Max crossed her arms, fully annoyed. “Yes, right now. We need new tape for Eleven’s headphones, a book I have to return, and Robin wants pretzels. Also, I’m bored.”

Robin raised a finger. “The pretzels are a necessary part of this trip. Not optional.”

Steve exhaled, long and pained, rubbing his face like fate had personally wronged him. You watched him, and even though frustration drew tight lines around his mouth, you saw the faint flicker of something else—desperation. Not for escape, but for the moment he’d been trying so hard to build. He’d almost done it this time. He had been right there, the words practically in the air between you when the cavalry burst in.

Max stepped closer. “Can you take us?”

You opened your mouth, but Steve sat up quickly, eyes wide. “Wait, she doesn’t have to. I can—”

“Nope,” Max interrupted. “We saw your car on the street. There’s a giant metal pipe sticking out the window and it looks like someone attacked your backseat with a screwdriver.”

Steve blanched. “That was Dustin’s… whatever. I told him not to—”

Eleven nodded solemnly. “It is broken.”

“It’s not broken,” Steve protested weakly, then looked at you with a kind of pleading horror. “Please don’t let them make you drive them. You don’t have to—”

Robin clapped her hands together. “You’re literally the only one here with a functioning car and a valid license.”

Max added, “also the only one we trust with directions.”

Eleven finished with, “Please? Please, please?”

Their combined staring was intense enough to melt steel. You sighed softly, looking at Steve with an apologetic tilt of your head. “It’s okay. I can take them.”

Steve’s mouth opened like he wanted to protest again, but something gentler ran through his expression. He softened, sitting back a little like he didn’t want to push. “Only if you want to,” he said quietly, voice low enough for just you.

“I don’t mind,” you said, even though part of you did—not the drive itself, but the interruption, the way the moment had slipped through your fingers again just when it felt like it might finally settle.

Max grabbed your hand and tugged you toward the door. “Yes! Thank you.”

Robin followed, muttering about soft pretzels and cinnamon sugar. Eleven smiled at you like you were the solution to every problem she’d ever had. You moved toward the doorway, keys in hand, but paused when you felt a gentle touch on your wrist. Steve had stepped after you, stopping you with light fingers that traced warmth across your skin. “Hey,” he murmured, eyes meeting yours with that same earnest something from earlier, “when you get back… can we finish that conversation?”

The question hit you softly, settling under your ribs in a place already warm for him. You nodded. “Yeah. We can.”

A slow, relieved smile spread across his face, not the charming one he used to flirt or joke, but something smaller, realer—something just for you.

Robin’s voice echoed from outside. “Let’s go, I’m starving!”

You stepped away from Steve and toward the chaos gathering around your car, but you looked back once. He stood in the doorway with his hands in his pockets, trying and failing to hide the way he was smiling. This time, you knew the moment wouldn’t slip away forever. It was waiting for you. So was he.

---

The mall on a Saturday was a maze of sound — laughter echoing off tile, music thumping faintly from different stores, the squeak of sneakers on polished floors, the chatter of people weaving around one another like they were all part of some vast busy hive. The second you stepped inside with Max, Eleven, and Robin, it felt like stepping into a warm wave of noise and movement. Max immediately scanned the storefronts like a general surveying a battlefield, Eleven stayed close to your side with quiet determination, and Robin pointed at the pretzel shop with the single-minded hunger of someone who had already been thinking about it for hours.

The girls moved quickly, practically dragging you along, their energy sweeping you forward before you even realized you were fully inside. The light overhead was bright, reflecting off the glossy floor, and you adjusted to it slowly, breathing in the smell of cinnamon sugar and perfume samples drifting from the nearby department store. Even with the crowd, the moment felt surprisingly calm—nothing like the monster-hunting days, nothing like the chaos of Dustin’s science experiments or the loud clusters of voices in the Wheeler basement. Just… the mall. Just a typical weekend afternoon.

Max took the lead, weaving down the walkway toward the bookstore. “This won’t take long,” she promised, even though her tone strongly suggested she planned to browse. “I just need to drop off the return, maybe look at the new releases, maybe check the comics—"

Robin groaned dramatically. “I’m going to starve before the pretzels. And then who’s gonna explain to Steve that you let me die of hunger in a suburban mall? He’ll never forgive you.”

Eleven blinked up at you. “She needs pretzels first,” she said with the same seriousness she used when discussing mind flayers.

You smiled because you knew it was hopeless to try changing their priorities. “Okay. Pretzels first, then the bookstore.”

Robin fist-pumped like she’d just won a war. “Yes. Justice prevails.”

You led the way toward the food court, letting the steady hum of conversation settle around you. Eleven walked close enough that her sleeve brushed yours every few steps, her eyes darting between the crowds with a watchfulness that came from experience, not fear. Max strode ahead, confident and unbothered, her ponytail swinging behind her with each purposeful movement.

When you reached the pretzel stand, Robin stepped forward eagerly. “Four pretzels,” she told the teenager behind the counter. “One cinnamon, one butter, one salted, and one mystery pick for Eleven.”

The kid blinked, confused. “Mystery pick?”

Robin waved broadly. “Dealer’s choice. Make it fun.” Max rolled her eyes but didn’t argue. Eleven seemed excited by the idea, gaze fixed on the warming racks with awe.

You helped gather napkins and drinks while everyone else debated who got which pretzel, though Eleven’s mystery pretzel was so coated in cheese that Robin declared it a masterpiece of culinary chaos. You all found an empty table near the railing overlooking the lower floor, and the four of you sat down, the air filled with warmth and chatter that felt strangely comforting.

Max took a bite of her pretzel before pointing it at you. “So what were you and Steve talking about before we barged in?”

Robin inhaled sharply and kicked Max lightly under the table. “We don’t ask those questions.”

“But I just did,” Max said, completely unapologetic. “I’m curious.”

Eleven tilted her head. “You and Steve were sitting very close.”

Heat crept up the back of your neck, and you tried to hide it by taking a long sip of your drink. “We were just talking,” you said softly, though you felt the weight of the truth under your ribs. You were almost talking about something else—something bigger—and that weight felt warm in a way that wasn’t unpleasant at all.

Max watched you knowingly, like she was piecing together a puzzle she’d already solved. “Uh-huh. Sure. Talking.”

Robin sighed with the posture of someone carrying too much knowledge. “We’re not interrogating her. We’re here for snacks, not emotional espionage.”

You wanted to thank her, but before you could, Eleven leaned in with genuine curiosity. “Do you like him?”

Your breath caught, and the world seemed to soften—not collapse, not tighten, just… soften. The noise of the mall blurred into a distant hum, and your hands stilled around the napkin you were folding subconsciously.

Max kicked her under the table. “El! You can’t just ask!”

Eleven frowned. “Why not? If she likes him, she should say.” Robin groaned but didn’t disagree.

You set the napkin down slowly, heart thumping against your ribs in that quiet, fluttery way it always did whenever Steve said your name a little too gently or leaned just a little too close. “I… I don’t know,” you said, though that wasn’t the truth. You knew. You just weren’t used to saying it out loud. “Maybe.”

Max raised an eyebrow. “Maybe yes?”

You exhaled, looking down at your hands. “Maybe… yes.”

Robin slapped her palms on the table and grinned like she’d been waiting for this revelation for months. “Finally. Emotional progress. Steve is going to combust when he hears that.”

You stared at her. “Robin!”

“What? He’s still alive. Mostly. Probably pacing in your living room right now practicing a speech.”

Eleven smiled brightly, lifting her pretzel. “I am happy,” she said, content and certain.

Max leaned back in her chair with smug satisfaction. “Called it.”

Despite the embarrassing warmth on your face, you felt something untangle inside you—something quiet, hopeful, and strangely steady. Saying it aloud didn’t feel as terrifying as you’d expected. If anything, it felt like you’d opened a small door that had been waiting for too long.

Robin nudged your foot under the table. “Finish your pretzel,” she said playfully. “We should get back soon. Wouldn’t want to keep loverboy waiting.”

You groaned, but a smile tugged at your lips anyway.

And across the mall, beyond the noise and the shining floors and the crowds moving in every direction, you found yourself thinking not about monsters or interruptions or whatever chaos awaited at home—but about Steve.

And the conversation he’d asked to finish.

---

Dustin had invited Lucas, Mike, and Will over with the promise of “the most important campaign decision of their lives,” which meant the basement was already cluttered with graph paper, dice, snack wrappers, and an unnecessary number of pencils. They were mid-argument about whether the party should take the mountain pass or the hidden forest trail when Steve wandered down the stairs, hands shoved in his pockets, pacing with a restless energy that immediately caught Dustin’s attention.

“Why are you down here?” Dustin asked, squinting at him suspiciously from behind his Dungeon Master screen. “Aren’t you supposed to be home? Or at work? Or not pacing around my basement like you’re trying to burn a hole into the carpet?”

Steve ignored him, and that alone was weird enough that Mike, Lucas, and Will exchanged glances. Steve never ignored Dustin. Not unless something had gone very, very wrong.

Steve raked a hand through his hair, tugging at the strands. He crossed the room, turned around, crossed it again, muttering under his breath. “She said we’d talk later. Later. Which could mean anything. What if something happens? What if she changes her mind? What if—”

Will’s pencil rolled off the table as he slowly lowered it. Mike froze mid-chew with a pretzel rod sticking out of his mouth. Lucas leaned back in his chair, eyebrows raised. Dustin set his pencil down slowly, staring at Steve with an expression that drew gradually from confusion into dawning horror. “Why do you look like you’re waiting for the apocalypse?”

Steve stopped pacing. “I mean—it might be. For me.”

Mike slapped a hand over his mouth, trying not to laugh. Lucas elbowed him hard. Will quietly slid his chair just a few inches farther away from the table.

Dustin rose from his seat like someone being pulled upward by invisible strings. His voice dropped to a deadly calm. “Steve. What did you do.”

Steve swallowed. “Okay, so don’t freak out—”

Instant freak-out. Dustin threw his hands up. “Why would you say that? Why would you say that unless there is something to freak out about?”

Will stood. Mike stood. Lucas stood. It was like watching prey animals rise together, ready to bolt.

Steve ran both hands down his face and groaned. “I didn’t do anything. I tried to do something. But, like… the universe hates me. Every time I get close, someone interrupts. Mostly you. Actually, almost always you.”

Dustin blinked twice. “Interrupts what?”

Steve held up a finger like he was about to explain something complicated. “Okay. Just listen. I wanted to talk to her—”

Will paled. Lucas’s eyes widened. Mike mouthed oh no under his breath.

“—because I really like—”

“No.” Dustin cut him off, both hands raised like he was physically blocking the words. “No. No, no, no. You’re not—you can’t—that’s my sister!” He said it like it was a curse, a prophecy, and a threat rolled into one.

Steve exhaled, bracing himself. “Yeah. I know. Believe me, I know. But I—”

Mike took a step toward the stairs. Lucas followed. Will whispered, “should we… leave?”

Mike nodded slowly. “We should leave.”

But Dustin wasn’t paying attention to anything except the tidal wave of emotion crashing over him. He advanced on Steve like a general ready to declare war. “You can’t like her!” Dustin yelled, jabbing a finger into Steve’s chest. “She’s my sister! There are rules!”

Steve threw up his hands. “What rules?”

“The unwritten ones!”

Lucas tugged Will toward the stairs. “Back away slowly.”

“Already doing that,” Will whispered, clutching his sketchbook to his chest.

Mike didn’t even whisper. “Steve, this is gonna be bad. Good luck,” he said before sprinting up the stairs and abandoning him entirely.

Dustin kept going, and Steve kept retreating until his back hit the wall. “You can’t—you can’t just date her! What if you break up? What if things get weird? What if she gets hurt? What if you hurt her? I can't—I can’t be stuck in the middle of that!” Steve opened his mouth to respond, but Dustin didn’t give him a chance. “And I swear—I swear— if you ever hurt her, I will kill you.”

Steve blinked. “Dustin, you can’t even reach my neck.”

“I’ll use a ladder!”

Steve threw his hands up. “Oh my god—listen! I would never hurt her. Ever. I like her. I’ve liked her. For a long time. Okay? That’s why I’m freaking out. That’s why I’m pacing. Because I’m terrified. Not of you—”

“Oh really?” Dustin snapped, crossing his arms.

“—but of her.”

Dustin paused. “Her?”

Steve nodded emphatically. “Yes! Do you remember the demogorgon? Because I do. I watched your sister take a baseball bat with nails in it and swing so hard the thing went flying. I have nightmares about that moment sometimes. She was feral.”

Dustin hesitated. “…okay, yeah, that was cool.”

“It was terrifying!”

“Also cool,” Dustin corrected, but the fire behind his words had dimmed. He stopped pacing, shoulders dropping slightly as the panic drained from his face. “She really was awesome that day.”

Steve softened, his voice calmer now. “I like her because she’s… her. And she deserves someone who actually pays attention. Someone who cares about her, and wants to make her feel safe, and doesn’t push her to be someone she’s not. I’m trying to be that person. But every time I try to tell her how I feel, you interrupt and drag me to test an antenna or fix a wire or—”

“That was important,” Dustin muttered weakly.

“It really wasn’t!”

Dustin went quiet. He looked at Steve, really looked at him, as if seeing him differently for the first time. The frantic defensiveness slowly melted into something begrudging, conflicted, but not outright hostile. After a long silence, Dustin let out a tired breath. “You really like her.”

Steve nodded. “Yeah. I really do.”

“And you’re not gonna screw it up.”

Steve shook his head. “Not if I can help it.”

Dustin pressed his lips together, thinking hard, weighing his loyalty to you against his loyalty to Steve. Eventually he let out a groan loud enough to shake dust from the ceiling. “Fine! Fine. But I swear, Harrington, if you hurt her—”

“I know,” Steve said quickly. “Ladder. Got it.”

Dustin pointed at him one last time. “And my point still stands!”

“Which point?”

“That she’s scarier than I’ll ever be.”

Steve actually laughed, shoulders relaxing for the first time in hours. “Yeah. She is.”

Dustin huffed, then turned toward the stairs. “I need a snack. And time to emotionally process this.”

From the top of the stairs, Mike’s voice drifted back down. “Is it safe to come back?”

“No!” Dustin shouted, slamming the door behind him.

And Steve let out a long, relieved breath—because the hardest part was over. Now all he had to do was actually talk to you.

---

You returned home before sunset, the sky outside tinted gold and pink as the heat of the day finally began to fade. The girls piled out of your car with arms full of pretzels, shopping bags, and the chaotic energy of teenagers loose in a mall. Max jogged ahead toward the front door, Eleven lingered close to you with a quiet smile, and Robin walked backward while lecturing both of them about “the importance of proper snack distribution in a household ecosystem.”

But the moment you stepped inside, the energy shifted. Something hung in the air—not tension, exactly, but a strange, anticipatory stillness. The lights in the living room were on. The TV was off. Steve was perched on the edge of the couch like he’d been waiting for hours and didn’t know what to do with his hands, his posture, or his entire existence.

Dustin stood beside him, arms crossed, nodding solemnly like he had just finished delivering a very long speech. All three girls froze mid-step.

Steve shot to his feet the second he saw you. “Hey. You’re back.”

You blinked, half smiling. “Yeah. We—"

“You,” Dustin interrupted loudly, pointing at Steve with one hand and at you with the other, “need to talk. Now. Immediately. Right now.”

You stared at him. “Dustin?”

Dustin nodded with the seriousness of a courtroom judge. “I’ve… reflected.” He placed a hand dramatically over his chest. “And I have decided that I am granting you two permission to have a conversation without interruptions.”

Robin’s eyebrows shot up to her hairline. “Oh god. He found out, didn’t he.”

Max elbowed Eleven and whispered, “told you.”

Steve’s face turned the shade of someone who had been emotionally waterboarded all afternoon. “Reflected,” he muttered. “He screamed at me for twenty minutes.”

Dustin glared at him. “Emotional reflection is loud sometimes.”

Robin snorted. Max barely held in a laugh. Eleven leaned close and whispered, “he must’ve been very loud.”

Dustin cleared his throat theatrically and stepped forward like he was taking center stage. “Anyway,” he said, arms spreading with dramatic flair, “I am officially leaving the premises. As are the rest of you.” He pointed toward the door like a tiny general evacuating troops. “Go. All of you. Get out. I need this to happen so my sister stops looking at Steve like a kicked puppy and Steve stops pacing grooves into our floor.”

Your face went hot. “Dustin!”

“What?” he said. “It’s embarrassing. For both of you. Fix it.”

Steve groaned into his hands.

Max shrugged and headed for the hallway. “Come on. Let’s leave the awkward adults alone.”

Eleven nodded gravely. “Important moment.”

Robin gave Steve a long, slow, knowing smirk. “Don’t choke, dingus.”

And just like that, the girls disappeared down the hall. Dustin lingered one more second, squinting at Steve like a overprotective watchdog. “Remember,” he warned, “I will absolutely end you if—”

“I know!” Steve snapped. “Ladder. Got it.”

“Good.” Dustin huffed, then looked at you, softened, and squeezed your arm gently. “He’s nervous. Be nice.”

“I’m always nice,” you murmured.

Steve made a strangled noise. Dustin pointed at him one more time, then marched off after the others. And then there was silence. The house felt suddenly huge. The space between you and Steve felt even bigger. He let out a long breath, rubbing the back of his neck as he looked at you with a dozen emotions flickering across his face—fear, hope, determination, affection. “So,” he said, voice rough but warm, “we… finally have a minute.”

You stepped farther into the room, closing the door behind you. “We do.”

He didn’t sit. He didn’t pace. He stayed exactly where he was, like moving even a step might break whatever fragile, shimmering moment had finally landed in his hands. “Look,” he started, letting his arms fall to his sides, “I’ve been trying to tell you something for—actually, I don’t even know how long anymore. Weeks? Months? A while. And I kept messing it up. Or people kept messing it up. Mostly Henderson.”

You breathed out a soft laugh. “He does that.”

“He does,” Steve agreed. Then his expression shifted—softer now, more sure. “But I’m glad he’s not here right now. Because I… I don’t want to keep dancing around this.”

You looked up at him, and the way he stared back made your chest tighten with something warm and heavy and sweet.

He took a steady breath. “I like you,” he said simply, without theatrics or stumbling, every word shaped with sincerity. “I really, really like you. More than I meant to. More than I planned to. Definitely more than I told Dustin when he cornered me today.”

You blinked, startled. “He cornered you?”

“Oh yeah. Full interrogation mode. I thought he was gonna map out my emotional failings on a chalkboard.” He shook his head, then took another step toward you, closing the distance until he was right in front of you—close enough to feel the quiet warmth radiating between you.

Your breath caught.

Steve swallowed, voice dropping softer. “And I know you’re… you. You get quiet. And nervous. And sometimes I can’t tell what you’re thinking. But I’ve seen the way you look at me sometimes. The same way I probably look at you. And I just—I needed you to know. Even if it freaked you out. Even if it scared me to say it.”

Your heart fluttered in your chest, skipping unevenly as you tried to gather your voice. “It doesn’t freak me out.”

He smiled—small, startled, almost relieved. “No?”

You shook your head, letting your eyes meet his without dropping away this time. “I… like you too.”

The warmth that spread across his face was immediate—bright, soft, disbelieving in a way that made something inside you loosen and settle all at once. He let out a breath he had clearly been holding for far too long, his shoulders dropping as tension melted from them.

He reached for your hand slowly, giving you room to pull back. You didn’t. His fingers brushed yours, then curled around them gently—warm and steady, not asking for anything more than the space you chose to give. “I was really scared you’d say no,” he admitted quietly.

“I was scared you’d get tired of trying,” you whispered.

He laughed under his breath—a soft, breathless sound—and shook his head. “Not a chance.”

The moment stretched comfortably, a soft glow settling between you both like something that had been waiting a long time to finally land. Then, from down the hall, “is it safe yet!?” Dustin shouted.

Steve groaned, squeezing your hand. “He’s going to make this so complicated.”

You smiled—full, warm, a little shy but no longer afraid of the feeling settling inside your chest. “We’ll handle him.”

Steve grinned. “Yeah. We will.”

And this time, nothing interrupted the moment you shared—warm hands, quiet breath, and the certainty that this was only the beginning.

everything taglist: @clxt-lamb1 @person-005

All he gets from you is a soft and airy moan, but it makes his stiff cock jerk in your quivering confines anyway.

“Then tell me.”

His words fall over you like summer rain. You don’t know if it’s a command or a plea — and he doesn’t, either, really — but he just wants to hear you.

Your mouth parts in a silent moan when his hips rock back and forward again, never quite pulling all the way out of you before fucking into you again, inch by agonizing inch. Your nails dig crescent shapes into his shoulder blades, and Steve revels in the distant burn.

“C’mon, sweet thing…” he pants above you. The breath of his words fans warm against your chin as his broad nose nudges against the side of yours. “Tell me… Tell me I’m making you feel good…”

A flicker of panic dashes across your fucked-out features at the simple command — you wouldn’t know what to tell him, how to tell him without sounding utterly un-sexy. But then his hips tilt back between your parted thighs, dragging his stiff cock out of you until your drooling pussy clenches around the bulbous tip, and then pushes slowly back into you again.

He forces you to feel all of it — every inch of his cock as he fills you once more. The thatch of hair above his happy trail that ruts mercilessly along your swollen clit, more so when your hips buck on their own accord. The scruff of his chest that brushes your sensitive nipples when you tighten your hold around his shoulders.

You couldn’t make out the words if you tried.

You cage your bottom lip between your teeth and squeeze your eyes shut tight, missing the look of worry that flashes across Steve’s scruffy face. His measured thrusts falter at your silence, lean hips stilling between your thighs.

“Does it… Does it not feel good?” he mumbles awkwardly into the quiet of his bedroom.

Your eyes fly open then, heavy-lidded and swimming with a leftover pleasure. You almost can’t believe he’s asking you that. Like you aren’t already so close to your orgasm, like you haven’t already drenched the sheets below you.

“Yeah… It— It feels good…” you tell him through panted breaths, quiet and hardly audible. Your eyes dart back and forth between his chocolate ones. Something short of agony twists at your pouting features. “Why— Why’d you stop?”

Steve grins all over again, though it wavers at the edges with a lingering worry.

“You got all quiet on me…” he murmurs, smoothing one wide hand over your cheek. The skin there is slightly sticky from a thin layer of sweat as he smooths rouge tendrils of hair from your temples with a softly calloused palm. His touch is as warm and firm as his heavy balls still pressed against your ass. “I wanted to make sure it was good for you, too…”

You shift slightly, caged beneath his golden body and the mattress below. You shrink into yourself instinctively, though there isn’t anywhere to go with you pressed so intently against him.

“Sorry…” you whisper.

Steve shakes his head. The chestnut tresses hanging over his forehead sway over his eyes, which go squishy around the edges when he smiles down at you with a melted chocolate gaze.

“You don’t have to apologize… I get it. It’s okay.”

He punctuates his reassurance with a kiss. His lips taste like spearmint, nicotine, and the sweet-salty tang of your cum when they press against yours. Your mouths slot together in a lingering, longing thing like they were meant to do it — like he was made to kiss you, like his only purpose was to kiss you.

Your lips smack when you pull away.

“Can you…” you hear yourself ask, then trail off a second later when you catch yourself.

“Can I what?” Steve hums knowingly. His lips curl into a lazy smile moments before he leans down to press them to your cheek. He doesn’t really kiss you there, but rather brushes the plush skin along your sweat-slick one. The breath of his words fans across your jaw and sends chill bumps pebbling across your bare body. “Use your words for me, and I’ll give you whatever you want.”

My cock, he means. Or the world. Or the ocean. Whatever you could possibly ask for, he’d fight like hell to get.

Your breath catches when his wet mouth meets your pulse. You wonder if he can feel the thrumming of your rapid heartbeat there. “Can you keep going?” you plead in a breathless whisper.

Steve grits his teeth to fight back a moan when your words make his cock twitch inside you. The scruff of his chin scratches your shoulder when he nods. “Yeah. Yeah, baby, I can… I do that for you…”

The process starts all over again, the merciless rocking of his hips. He pulls out just enough to make you sigh at the empty feeling, then he fucks back into you until his balls slap the plush skin of your ass. Your back arches off the mattress as your nails dig into his golden shoulder. Your moan gets buried in your throat, in a hardly audible whimper.

“Let me hear it, baby,” Steve pleads through labored breaths as his fists ball into the pillows on either side of your head.

His lidded gaze, glassy with a layer of honey, flits across your fucked-out features — eyes squeezed shut, head tossed back, bottom lip caged between your teeth. The sight of you below him is heaven alone, especially compared to how demoniacal your cunt feels wrapped around him.

“Let me make you feel good. C’mon.”

You vaguely feel his right hand squeeze between your sweaty bodies as he continues his measured thrusts. His finger brushes over your stomach, and past the thatch of hair above your pussy, before finding purchase on your clit — already sensitive from your previous orgasm, which he had given to you with nothing but his mouth.

Your body reacts before your mind does. Your hips buck with a shock of electricity. Your thighs clench around his lean hips. Your mouth parts to exhale a broken whimper.

“Right there,” you hear yourself say. “Oh, my god— Right there.”

The praise makes Steve’s even thrusts falter for a moment. A groan rumbles in the depths of his throat. “Yeah… There you go,” the boy slurs. “You sound so pretty for me— Fuck. I knew you would…”

His words make you keen. “Steve…” you whimper when you feel your orgasm suddenly approaching, like a knot in the pit of your stomach that’s growing tighter and tighter, threatening to snap at any moment.

He tries not to burst entirely at the way you say his name.

“What is it, honey?” he coos. “You close?”

“Yes…” you sigh.

“I know you are, baby— I can feel it,” he says through gritted teeth, as his own pleasure starts to build. “You’re getting so tight around me, baby, I can— shit. I can barely move—”

Your pussy clenches tighter around him, all but weeping for him now. Steve’s fingers on your swollen clit only add to the ache, which feels borderline overwhelming now. Your face screws in a pained sort of look as your thighs tremble on either side of his waist. You writh beneath his golden body, trying to both chase your orgasm and run from its intensity at the same time.

“Please, please, please…” you hear yourself begging, though for what, you couldn’t say. “Please, Steve…”

“I’m right here, baby,” the boy coos, words slurring from his own encroaching orgasm. He keeps one merciless hand on your clit, which swells beneath his fingers, while his other shifts to hold you. He keeps himself propped up with his elbow while his palm settles over the crown of your head. His fingers curl gently in your hair as he murmurs to you, “I’m right here. Take what you want. You know I’ll give it to you. You just gotta… holy shit— You just gotta fucking take it, baby—”

Something about his words sends you over the edge. The way he says them to you so softly, maybe, or the way they come out slightly strangled as he fights back his own pleasure.

“There you go…” Steve sighs when he feels you cumming around him, velvet walls clenching through the silk you leak for him. He watches through the haze of bliss clouding his vision as you finally succumb to your orgasm, twitching and writhing behind him through every wave of pleasure. “Take it, baby. Take it—”

His voice breaks. A pain sort of groan sounds deep in his throat as his own orgasm threatens to unravel him. He punches into you once, hard, and then buckles down over you. He suffocates you beneath his warm, heavenly body while his aching cock jerks within the pulsing walls of your pussy, spitting several ropes of warm cum deep inside of you.

“Fuck, baby,” he whimpers into your neck, where he hides his flushed face that screws in a pained look of overwhelming pleasure. “Fuck—”

He stills against you with one last, shallow thrust. The remaining tension floods from his body as he sinks heavily onto yours, with every intention of melting with you there. It’s the closest to heaven he’s ever felt — hell, probably the closest to heaven he’ll ever get — with his sweat-slick skin sticking so deliciously to yours.

“Stay…” he hears you whisper when he goes to pull out of you.

The soles of your feet press into the back of his scruffy thighs. Steve pulls just far enough to see your face, and finds you wearing a pleading, pitiful sort of look — brows scrunched, eyes wet, mouth pouted from his kisses.

“Don’t pull out,” you beg through heavy breaths. “Please. I… I wanna stay like this for a while…”