#coach steve

You ran your fingers through his hair, still damp from his evening shower. "What did you buy at midnight?"

He pulled out item after item with the reverence of someone handling ancient artifacts. A tiny pair of socks with strawberries on them. A onesie that said "My Dad is a Dork" in glitter letters. A stuffed demogorgon - soft and child-safe - that he'd apparently custom ordered from somewhere.

"Steve," you laughed, picking up the demogorgon. It's red and oddly cute, with button eyes and no teeth, just the blooming flower head. "Really?"

"She needs to know her roots," he said seriously, then ruined it by pressing a kiss to your stomach. "Your mom and dad fought actual monsters, princess. You're gonna be so tough."

"She's going to be a newborn, Steve. The scariest thing she'll face is gas and vomit."

He looked up at you, and your heart did that thing it had been doing since you were sixteen years old - skipped, stuttered, swelled. His eyes were soft, overwhelmed, his.

"What if I'm not good at this?" he asked quietly, all the manic energy draining into something vulnerable. "What if I - what if I mess her up? My parents weren't exactly - " He stopped, jaw tight. "What if I'm like them?"

You cupped his face, thumbs brushing over the worry lines he was getting from frowning in his sleep. "You're going to be amazing."

"You don't know that."

"I know you." You leaned down, kissed his forehead, his nose, his mouth. "I know you drove to three different towns to find the right crib because the first two didn't feel safe enough. I know you read three parenting books in one week and highlighted the important parts. I know you cried when we heard her heartbeat."

"I did not - " He caught your look. "Okay, I cried a little."

"You sobbed, Steve. You sobbed."

He buried his face in your stomach, arms wrapping around your waist. "I'm so scared," he mumbled against the cotton of your shirt. "I want to be perfect for her. For both of you."

Your heart broke open, warm and tender. This was the boy who'd faced down monsters without flinching, who'd fought in a war against things from another dimension, who'd become a hero without ever asking for the title. And here he was, terrified of being a father.

"Hey." You tugged his hair until he looked up. "You're already perfect. You're Steve Harrington. You fought with a bat that had nails in it to save a bunch of kids. You can definitely handle a baby."

"But what if she doesn't like me?"

"She's going to adore you." You smiled, feeling a tiny flutter against your ribs - her, awake and active, responding to his voice probably. "Feel that? She already knows her dad."

Steve's hand pressed flat against your belly, wonder transforming his face. "Is that - did she just - "

"She's saying hi."

He stayed there for a long moment, forehead resting against your stomach, whispering things you couldn't quite hear. Promises, probably. I'll protect you. I'll love you. I'll be there.

When he finally sat back on his heels, his eyes were wet again, but he was smiling. "I got one more thing," he said, reaching into the bag.

It was a tiny headband with a small bow, soft pink and impossibly delicate. He held it between two fingers like it might dissolve.

"To keep her head warm till she has hair." He said. "Which... Let's face it she's probably going to end up with my hair gene, but until then... I want her to feel like a princess. Our princess."

You took the headband, then took his hand, pressing both to your heart. "Come to bed, Harrington. Your princesses need sleep."

He helped you up - always so careful now, treating you like glass even though you kept telling him you weren't breakable - and walked you to the bedroom with one arm around your waist, the other carrying his midnight haul.

In the dark, curled around you with his hand spread over your belly, he whispered, "I love you. Both of you. So much it actually hurts."

"I know," you whispered back. "We know."

He was asleep in minutes, finally, exhaustion winning over anxiety. You stayed awake a little longer, feeling her move inside you, feeling his breath warm against your neck.

He was going to be incredible.

You knew it like you knew your own name. Like you knew that the boy who'd once been too cool for everything had grown into a man who was exactly cool enough for this - for late night shopping trips and nursery assembly and learning to braid hair someday.

Steve Harrington was going to be a father.

And he was going to be absolutely, perfectly, wonderfully terrified the entire time.

It was easy to slip through the cracks at Hawkins High.

Sure, there weren’t that many students, but everyone had their head so far up their own ass that it made being a wallflower easy.

Naturally, there was a social pyramid. The “kings” and “queens” who subtly tormented the ones who fell below them, even some of the teachers. They got away with it because everyone wanted to be them, and let’s face it, they were pretty good looking. It was safe to say fear played a factor, as well.

Below them were the outgoing types — football players, cheerleaders, student council members. The ones who kept the school running but went unrecognized.

And lastly, below everyone else, were the quiet ones. The nerds who spent their lunch in the library, the more eccentric types like the thespians or members of certain clubs.

You had fallen into the third category. You made good grades, had a close friend that you spent lunch with. If she wasn’t there, you’d join the bookworms in the library, catching up on reading assignments. You didn’t dress fancily or do your hair up too high, didn’t wear shoes that clicked or squeaked, and you were most certainly not a cheerleader.

High school went by like people say it does — dragging on for years then over in the blink of an eye. You attended a small community college just outside of Hawkins, working on your associates.

There, you blended in, too.

When you were paired with people for projects, they always seemed to really like you, but they also never seemed to stay. Good friends were hard to come by, after all.

It felt like you just hadn’t found your place yet. Everyone else your age was in a relationship, going out every weekend, living their young lives. You often stayed home, no boyfriend and only a couple friends.

Sometimes it felt like the loneliness was suffocating. Listening to your peers rave about their crazy weekends made you self conscious of your calm ones, only causing you to pull back into yourself more. By the time your first two years of college were over and you earned yourself that associates, you finally accepted that you’d be alone — possibly forever.

Maybe it was dramatic, maybe you had a bad habit of exaggerating, but it was hard not to when your feelings got the best of you.

You had so many talents and interests and cool little things that no one knew about you, things no one cared to learn. You were shy on the surface, yeah, but you only needed someone to take the time to learn you, learn how wild you could get, how fun you could be.

Over the spring break of your 3rd year in college, the small town of Hawkins was placed under a military quarantine. A metal fence wrapped around your hometown, making entry and exit nearly impossible, effectively keeping you from making the short journey to your college.

You were still young, it wasn’t like putting a pause on your education was the end of the world…except, it kind of was.

One good thing about quarantine was that it forced you to get yourself out a little more. With nearly every job in Hawkins being filled a month after the earthquake, the only available jobs left were shift manager at the WSQK radio station, or working shifts with Keith at Family Video again, your high school job.

So, you chose option one.

Sure, you were only the shift manager, but working with Robin and Steve, you got dragged into a lot more than that.

After 2 months of working there, they finally got you to make your first appearance on air. It wasn’t easy, you sure put up a fight. There was just something about the two that made it easy to open up.

After 5 months of working there, you were permanently in the sound booth, helping Steve with the sounds or passing Robin notes.

And by the 1 year mark, you had officially made 2 best friends.

It was exhilarating! Finally, when someone asked about your weekend, you had something to talk about. You were the happiest you had been in a long time.

With Robin, her constant oversharing loosened your lips a little. She never judged. She teased, sure, but she was never one to make you feel bad about yourself. She was your biggest supporter, in fact. The clothes you wore, stories you told, things you created — she supported fully. She even convinced you to start wearing your hair up high on your head, the way you confessed you liked but didn’t wear it as to not draw attention to yourself.

And with Steve, well…

You two were really close, just like you and Robin. He hyped you up, loved the songs you suggested, picked stray hairs off your sweaters, and even let you press the rubber chicken hung on the wall of the sound booth, just because it made you giggle, even though it was his favorite thing to do.

However, lately things had been…off.

Your immediate thought was that you had something wrong. Were you too clingy? You just excited to have made a new friend. Did you laugh too loudly? Again, excited. Could Steve read your mind? You only thought about his hands sometimes.

Oh no, what if he could read your mind? That’s impossible, it’s ridiculous. Then again, what was the explanation for how he’d been acting?

He still let you punch the chicken, but he stopped standing so close. You rarely got to feel how warm he was anymore. He stared responding to you less, the jokes that originally took so much courage to make were now going ignored. He stopped seeking one on one conversation with you, he avoided eye contact and flushed when you met eyes.

It hurt.

It felt like you had lost a friend. One of your best friends.

You tried asking Robin, but she was a dead end, her lips sealed shut for once. She refused to give you anything to work with. Did Steve really hate you that much?

It continued on like that for the next few weeks. Steve being avoidant, Robin not saying anything about it to you, and you just accepting it.

What were you going to do? Demand he be friends with you? No, that wasn’t like you at all. A wallflower, that’s what you’d been described as your entire life, why change it because you misread Steve? Steve Harrington who, even through his beauty, used to be a complete bully. The kind of bully that made you eager to blend in, that kept you from being the bubbly, charismatic girl you could have been, the kind of bully that put you in this position now.

Hurting, but too afraid to speak up, too afraid to try and stop it.

Until one morning in August.

You had been in your office, organizing your filing cabinets that had gotten completely out of whack. Yellowed pages with cursive letters decorated your desk, an open file drawer waiting for its papers to be returned. You hummed to yourself as you arranged the papers into groups that would eventually go into folders, and back into the cabinet.

Lost in your own world, you failed to recognize the pitter patter of foot steps trailing towards your office.

“Whoa- holy shit,” A male voice sounded, his words almost accusatory.

Your head snapped up, and your eyes were met with a teenage boy. He had long, curly hair, an overgrown mullet of sorts. He wore a hat that was labeled with the words “thinking cap” that made you quietly giggle to yourself, and a WSQK t-shirt.

Unsure of what to say, you waited for him to speak.

“I’ve heard stories about you—“ he said your name, making sure it was correct.

You nodded, responding “About me?”

The boy nodded his head, stepping into your cluttered office space.

“I’m Dustin,” he grinned. The boy, Dustin, held out his hand and theatrically shook yours, giving you a little bow.

Ah, this is Dustin. Steve’s (younger) best friend. Of course you knew who he was, but it was nice to put a face to the name. You told him as such.

“I’ve been wondering when Steve was gonna bring you around, he’s usually not so protective of his girlfriends,” Dustin teased, but it wasn’t in the way that Robin did. Robin made sly jokes about you and Steve getting together, taunting you two like it was middle school. Dustin, on the other hand, sounded like what he was saying was factual.

“Oh, um—“ you began, only to be cut off by Steve’s booming voice.

“Henderson, bathroom’s that way! You should know this by now, man,” Steve trailed off at the end of his sentence, eyes flickering between you and Dustin as he realized what was going on.

His loud, blabber mouth friend talking to his quiet, reserved…friend? Crush? Love of his life? Possibly revealing his deepest secret.

Dustin mischievously smirked, raising his hands in surrender as he took careful steps backwards towards the bathroom.

Steve shot Dustin a look of warning then stepping into the doorway of your office. He leaned against it like he used to, one shoulder on the frame with his arms and ankles crossed. Flustered at his sudden closeness, you dropped your head and returned to organizing your papers.

“So, you finally met Dustin,” Steve started tentatively, almost like he was flustered, too.

“Yeah, he—he’s cool,” you said, because what else were you supposed to say? That he thought you were Steve’s girlfriend?

“He sure is something,” Steve mumbled just loud enough for you to hear. You giggled softly at his little joke, causing heat to wash over his face. “That little shit didn’t give you a hard time, did he?”

“Dustin? No, he was fine. Cute kid,” you added, referring to his theatrics. Steve seemed to have understood what you meant as he responded with a nod, smiling fondly.

“He didn’t…I don’t know, maybe say anything? Like, about me?” He nervously scratched at the back of his neck, now avoiding eye contact.

“About you? Uh…” you hesitated, your biggest tell when you were lying.

“He did, didn’t he?” Dammit, Steve knew you too well.

“Nothing bad! I promise,” you gave a smile, trying to be perceived as gentle and reassuring, but coming across as nervous.

Steve took a few small, languid steps into your office until the heels of his palms were digging into your old wooden desk. He rested his weight on his hands and clicked his tongue, beginning to speak.

“Will you please tell me? I really—I need to know.” Sensing your hesitation, he added a “please, honey,” that never failed.

With a sigh full of embarrassment, you told Steve.

“All he said was that it was nice to meet me, that you’re not usually so protective with your girl friends,” you make sure to make the space between girl and friend apparent in your words, trying to ease the blow for Steve.

“Oh, fuck. Listen, I’m sorry, I’ll talk to him about—“

“Steve?” You cut his rambling off, not really wanting an apology from Dustin, which is where he was headed with his string of thought. In fact, you were quite curious to know what he meant.

“Yeah?” Steve sighed, sounding resigned, like he knew what you were going to ask.

“Why did he call me that?”

“Call you what? My-my girlfriend?” He stumbled out, his words a jumbled mess, his cheeks flushed over and warm to the touch.

You nodded. Maybe this would give you an answer as to why Steve had been so weird around you, at least a clue.

The flush of the toilet and the sound of the faucet momentarily distracted your thoughts while waiting for Steve to respond.

“I’ve talked about you a couple times before, I didn’t think he’d even remember. I wouldn’t have said anything if I thought he’d come in here and tease you like that, I know how shy you can get.”

Steve’s response had you genuinely shocked. While you didn’t believe what he said to be true at all, it was touching to hear how much he’d noticed you. How he knew you got shy when people brought up romance, how he tried to protect you from the teasing.

“A couple times? I don’t think so, Steve,” Dustin smiled, peeking out of the bathroom door frame, only visible to Steve, who turned to Dustin, shooting him another look of warning.

“Dustin,” Steve protested, seeing the glim already in his eyes. There was no stopping this now.

“You’re telling me this isn’t the girl you won’t shut up about? I mean, this is the only other girl who works here, and I’m well aware of your refusal to date Robin, so, this has to be her.”

You were frozen at your desk. Wide eyed and lips parted, you remained completely still, using it as a defense mechanism. Maybe if you pretended you weren’t there, they would, too.

“That’s not—Dustin! I told you to wait in the car, but you just had to take a piss, didn’t you?” Steve raised his voice slightly, frustration dripping off each syllable.

Dustin only grinned, as if this was exactly the reaction he was hoping for.

“Go!” Steve’s voice sounded as he pointed a finger towards the front door, presumably where Steve’s beamer was parked.

“What?! No! I finally got to meet your blushing bride and you’re kicking me out already?!” Dustin yelped out, still grinning like the Cheshire cat.

“Out!” Steve demanded, flicking his pointed finger towards the door to emphasize his words.

Dustin let out a small “ah-ha” as he shoulder checked Steve on the way out. “You know, I think I’ll take my bike home, it’s the perfect day out,” Dustin tipped his hat to you upon his exit. You gave him a shy wave then immediately went back to the shuffling and organizing of your papers.

With Dustin gone, Steve was stood leaning against your office door frame once more, red as a tomato, and fidgeting with his fingers. You noticed more and more throughout the weeks that this was how he'd been acting. Shifty, nervous, and avoidant.

"I'm...sorry," Steve managed through his embarrassment. Just as he was turning to walk away, you drew him back in.

"Don't be," you spoke, sounding more hopeful thank you meant to.

"What?" Steve whipped his head back to face you, shock written clear over his face.

"I just mean, I know how kids his age can be..." you trailed off, feeling like you were exposing too much of your internal dialog.

What if he thinks I'm obsessively in love with him? What if he's not wrong? What if I'm obsessively in love with Steve Harrington? What if he can read my thoughts?!

"Can you blame me, though?" He nervously chuckled.

At that, you snapped your gaze up to meet his. What the hell did that mean?

"Uhm.."

"Shit, I'm sorry, I'm just making it worse, aren't I?" Steve rambled, hands coming up to his face as he dramatically wiped at his eyes. "I just—I really like you and I didn't wanna say anything because every time the station plays a love song you get all...red and blushy and I know how nervous you got when that one stock guy came on to you, and now here I am, doing the same thing—" he cut himself off with a heavy sigh, one that told you he surely thought he was about to get the rejection of his life.

"I'm not...It's okay," was all you could muster. Well, that and a small smile. You thought it was neutral enough that it didn't give your desire for his words to be true away completely, but enough for him to know you weren't upset or about to reject him, quite the opposite, actually.

Knowing you, the response seemed to settle Steve a little.

"It's okay? You're not freaked out or anything?" He carefully questioned, hands motioning around.

"No, actually. I'm flattered," you shyly admitted. Heat settled all over your body in embarrassment and flush.

Steve let out a breath of relief and emotion, his shoulders loosening a fraction.

"I hope I'm not being too forward, but would you maybe consider going out with me? Like as a date. Or as friends! Whatever you want, honey," he nervously asked, his voice soft and sweet, and his words soothing the fear that crept into you at his words.

Being your friend for so long, he knew that you'd never been in a real romantic relationship. Sure, there had been a boy here and a boy there, but none of them treated you right, none of them stayed. No boy had ever taken you out on a real date, just drive-in movies expecting you to do something with them in the backseat. No boy had truly taken the time to get to know you — to understand you. No man knew you like Steve. No man took months studying your nervous habits and your playful ones, no man noticed you like Steve. You're not sure if anyone's ever noticed you like Steve.

Nervously smiling, you forced your eyes to meet Steve's. His honeyed irises were wide and softened, hopefully awaiting your answer.

"I'd like that," you cautiously peeped out, words hard to form and never easier at the same time.

It was so easy, so natural to say yes to Steve. Not only had he made you feel so seen, so special in a life of blending in and going unnoticed, but you had also been subconsciously harboring an ever growing crush on Steve for months now.

"Well, alright then," he breathed, his smile wider than you'd ever seen it before. "I'll swing by around 7 if that works for you? I was thinking we get those snow cones you like before all the stands close down after Labor Day."

Your mouth hung open slightly in awe of his words. He remembered you liked visiting the seasonal snow cone shops? Surely he knew that a traditional first date to a romantic restaurant would have had you so flustered you'd barely be able to speak, opting for a more casual yet meaningful date instead.

"Steve, you don't have to—"

"I don't have to do anything I don't want, I know," he stepped closer to you, tilting his head and softly smiling down at you, "but not only do I want to take you out, I think I might die if I don't."

You giggled at his tone and teasing words, willing yourself to maintain eye contact just so you could look at him up close a little longer.

"Okay," you conceded, still red in the face.

Steve gave you a nod, still smiling that stupidly fond smile, and started to head out of your office. You watched him go, a bright smile spreading across not only you lips, but your entire face. You felt lighter than you had in years, but you were certain the anticipation would kill you.

Safe to say, the date went extremely well. So well, in fact, that there was another, and another, and all of the sudden you were Steve’s girlfriend, and he was your (first!) boyfriend. Just saying it out loud was exhilarating. Still, one year later, you got giddy at the thought.

He was the sweetest, most considerate and loving boyfriend you could have asked for. He held open doors, encouraged you to express yourself, and never pushed — not even when you two were kissing and he got a little (very big) problem in his pants.

It was hard at first, accepting his affection and attention, but Steve was patient with you. He held your literal and metaphorical hand through it all.

First, it was the attention. Never before had anyone ever been so dedicated to learning all of your little quirks or habits, but boy did Steve pay lots of attention. Sure, it flustered you, but it made you feel so seen, so undeniably wanted that you learned to love — to crave his stares.

Then there was the physical touch. It was just so new to you! The holding hands, hugs, kisses…It was hard for Steve, too. All he wanted to do the moment you agreed to go out with him was kiss you stupid and hold you after, keeping you there forever.

After date number 5, Steve was blessed to be allowed to have your first kiss, and you were blessed to have Steve introduce you to the wonderfully exciting world of kissing that you loved so much.

The past year of your life had been perfect — absolutely perfect. You had come out of your shell some, thanks to Steve, and you were much more confident. Now, that’s not to say your shyness went away, years of going unnoticed cannot be made up for in 12 months of love, but your brain started to rewire. You wore what you wanted, made conversation with the cashiers at stores, and even wore the pair of kitten heels that Steve bought you, unafraid of them making too much noise or drawing attention to you.

Steve saw this change and fell more in love, if that were even possible. Watching you let yourself be who you really were - the person that he loved so much - made him feel undeniably proud. Not of himself, but of you. That man nearly dropped to his knees when you tried out a new hairdo or wore a new skirt, not because of how you looked (though he’d drop to his knees for that, too), but because of your new found confidence. Letting him love you was the best decision you ever made, and loving you was the best decision he had ever made.

Which is why on the night of your one year anniversary, he went all out.

Still, no fancy restaurant- you hated when he spent too much money on you, even though to him there was no such thing. So instead, Steve mimicked an expensive restaurant right in his own home.

With your favorite meal planned out, he bought bouquets of red roses and countless long, white candles to decorate his table. Fresh rose petals scattered around with a smooth red wine he knew you liked but rarely ever had, due to its expensive price. He wore a flattering button up that hugged his chest and arm muscles, revealing the small pudge he liked to keep hidden beneath the fabric. He only wore khakis on his legs, but Steve could make anything look exceptional.

While Steve was finishing up the food, a knock came from the door. He knew it was you by the sound of it. No longer timid, light taps that were almost impossible to hear, but firm, strong knocks that made your presence known.

Steve hurriedly turned off the stovetop burner and moved the pan from it before opening the front door, revealing a stunning, smiling you.

“Hi, beautiful,” Steve awed at you, holding out his hand to let you in.

“Hi, Stevie,” you giggled, slipping out of the kitten heels he got you.

You were wearing his favorite dress, the one with a bold pattern that complimented your skin tone better than anything he’d seen anyone wear ever.

Your hair was curled tightly and your fingernails were freshly painted. Together, you and Steve looked like a celebrity couple on the red carpet. You brought a small bag with overnight clothes, intending to sleep over.

“Staying the night?” Steve questioned, his voice almost relieved.

“If that’s okay, I figured I’d get a little tipsy tonight, better not to drive.”

“No, yeah, it’s great! It’s perfect, actually,” Steve chuckled, pulling you in by the waist to steal a sweet kiss from you. “Happy anniversary, baby,” he murmured against your lips.

Smiling, you kissed him back, this time a little longer, a little deeper. “Happy anniversary,” you concurred.

Steve led you to the decorated table, pulling you along by your waist. He pulled out your chair, made sure you were settled, then went back in the kitchen where he plated the food.

“Oh, Steve, this is so sweet,” you gushed, eyes flickering from the plates of food he was carrying to the roses.

“Only the best for my sweet girl,” he whispered near your ear as he set your plate in front of you. He quickly went back in the kitchen to retrieve the wine and a bouquet of all your favorite flowers.

“Steve! This is too much, especially since you wouldn’t let me get you anything,” you protested weakly, happily taking the flowers from him.

“You’re my present. That’s all I want, anyway. You,” he declared softly, sitting down.

Even after a full year of this treatment, it never failed to baffle you. You sat there, gawking at Steve with the bouquet dripping down in your hands.

“Eat,” he motioned, pointing at your plate. You did as he said and got to work. Steve also loved this about you - you could put down some food. Not always, not any food, but if you got a good burger in front of you?

This meal being your favorite was sure to have you ravaging it, comfortable enough to be that way with him. He was so happy.

Dinner was perfect, he asked about all the things a good boyfriend asked about, and you listened to all the things a good girlfriend listened to. His hand stayed on yours throughout the night, squeezing softly when you made him laugh. Once dinner was done, he was quick to take your plate to the sink. That you knew better than to try and do yourself, like opening your own car door.

While Steve was doing a quick clean up of the kitchen, you topped both of your glasses off with a little bit more wine, just enough to get you loose and giggly. Wine was a romantic drink, too, and what better time to get romantic than your one year anniversary?

Well that was easier said than done. While you enjoyed all of the attention Steve would lavish on you, letting him love on you was much different than you loving on him, one of the biggest reasons why you two still hadn’t had sex.

Tonight, though, you wanted more. All the way was a lot for you to imagine, but you wanted more than just kissing. Steve got you so hot under the collar all the time, but you were just too damn shy to climb him like a tree, what you (respectfully) had been wanting to do since your first make out session.

When you sat on top of him, kissing him passionately, hands roaming and hips grinding, you could feel how hard he got, how big he has under you. Knowing you had that effect on him made you crazy - like out of your mind, crazy.

In the past few months, your make out sessions had gotten more intense. You let his hand explore more, even the inside of your body — a place no one had been close to before. He fingered you a few times but still refused to have you do anything to him, saying he wouldn’t last a minute.

That answer wouldn’t fly tonight.

When Steve came back to the table, you were already standing up, cheeks flushed from the wine, which you took another big sip of.

“What’cha doing, honey?” Steve asked, standing in front of you.

“Just…” you paused, wrapping your arms around his neck, your body flush against his, “thanking you for dinner.” You were red hot, nervous and nearly sweating. This was so unlike you, being so straightforward, and yet you couldn’t keep it in anymore, not after the evening he gave you.

“Yeah?” He asked, wrapping one arm around your waist, the other moving up to brush a strand of hair behind your ear. His gaze was tender and soft.

“Yeah,” you shifted your weight and stood on your tip toes, pressing a quick, gentle kiss to his mouth. Steve grinned when you pulled away, landing back on your heels. He tilted his face down, pressing firmer kisses to your mouth, then down the line of your neck. They were quick, almost teasing, but it made you hot all over.

With a small sigh, you grabbed at the back of his head, gripping his hair. You didn’t tug on it, but you used it to keep him as close to as possible. Steve let out a quiet grunt, responding by bringing his lips back up to yours, kissing you passionately.

The two of you continued like that for a while, kissing and sucking at each other’s mouths, tongues swirling tongues, and hands roaming over shoulders and backs.

“Just cause it’s our anniversary doesn’t mean we have to—“

“Steve,” you cut him off.

“Yeah?”

Wordlessly, you responded by kissing him once more - just a little peck this time. You pulled back to look at his face, your eyes wide and lips reddened, glistening from spit.

“I want to.”

Shocked by your words, a tentative smile spread across his face, giving you a look of awe.

“Are you sure, baby?”

“I’m sure, Steve, I’m…I’m ready, I think,” you rambled on, your words growing more uncertain the longer you spoke. Steve noticed, of course, and held your face in his hands, thumbs brushing your cheeks.

“Hey, look at me,” he softly demanded, and so you did, “there’s nothing to be scared about, you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met—ever seen! Nothing you do could be…unsexy or embarrassing to me, I mean just look at you,” he trailed off, eyes flickering down your body briefly before meeting yours again. “And, if for whatever reason you feel that way and you want to stop, all you gotta do is say so. I’ll stop, no questions asked, okay?”

You nodded, his affirmations reigniting the spark of desire you felt flash through your body. Unsure of what to do to get the ball rolling, you waited for him to do something.

“Wanna…go to my room?” He offered hesitantly, not wanting to scare you off.

You nodded, your hands dropping from his shoulders to his hands, taking hold of one of them so he could lead you up the stairs to his bedroom.

Before he even closed the bedroom door, your heart was racing. You'd never done this before, you were in over your head! Steve must've noticed your brain spiraling - probably because of your nervous fidgeting and eyes looking anywhere but him - and gently took your hands.

"Hey, talk to me," he gently encouraged, fingers messing with yours.

"I've never done this before, Steve. What if I mess up? What if I'm not good—" your words were cut off by the press of his lips against yours.

"'Nough with that, okay? I know its your first time, that's why you call the shots, got it?" He stared into your eyes, waiting for an answer.

"Got it," you nodded, taking a deep, shuddering breath.

"How about.." Steve's hands came back up to your face, tilting you chin up to face him, "we start with what you know? Kissing."

You smiled slightly, sighing in relief, "That I can do," you said, already reaching up for him.

"Oh, baby, I know you can," he teased, accepting your lips and keeping you close.

He started slow, slower than you would've like, except for the fact that he was so warm, so comfortable, so grounding. Kissing him made your nerves fly away, being replaced by intense waves of want as his tongue traced your bottom lip before making its entry.

He groaned into your mouth, hands sliding down around your waist once again, pulling you into him as close as he could, and then some.

Finally, he took a small step forward towards his bed, pushing your body backwards. Without breaking the kiss, he sat you both on the bed, feet on the ground but bodies facing each other. Wrapped in his arms, you barely even registered that you were one step closer to one of your biggest fears.

Once you did this, there was no going back. Not that you wanted to go back to a time in your life without Steve. This was a whole new world, one of the biggest steps in your entire relationship, not to mention your first time ever. Letting him see you - completely naked and vulnerable, laid out under him while he was inside of you was easily going to be one of the hardest things you'd ever done, and you were in college for goodness sake!

Steve pulled you out of your racing mind when he put his hand on your hip, thumb just inches away from your core. You'd done this before, too. Let him stretch you open on his fingers, pump them into you and circle around your clit till you were shaking and panting. This was still easy territory.

"Wanna lay down?" He broke the kiss, his voice raspy and broken as if he was already close.

"Yes, please," you agreed, shifting back so your upper half was laying against his pillows. Steve was about to lay himself over you, but he caught the motion before he could commit and asked if it was okay. You, obviously, said yes.

With one hand on either side of your body, his hips settled between your open legs, he dipped his head down to fiercely kiss your jaw, then your neck, then the exposed part of your chest. Beneath him, your body writhed and sighed, chasing his affection. A few times, your hips ground up into his, making him groan against your skin.

Wanting to feel his body, you tugged his face back over yours so you could kiss him as you unbuttoned his fancy shirt. Feeling your movements, Steve got a little excited and pushed his hips against yours harder, causing both of you to moan.

"Steve," you panted, your hands making quick work of the bottom buttons so you could get to what you really wanted - chest hair and tummy pudge.

You'd seen him shirtless plenty of times, but you got very few chances to touch him. Well, few chances while you were feeling bold, that is.

You eagerly shoved the shirt off his shoulders, causing him to stop his kissing and let out a small chuckle, looking at you.

"God, you're beautiful," he cooed at you, right hand leaving your side and pushing some hair away from your face to give him the full view. You turned red at his compliment, suddenly feeling very shy. You took his hand in yours and let the moment wash over you.

"Steve, will you help me with my dress?" You softly asked, voice fragile yet filled with a sense of desperate need. You wanted your body bare against his, like yesterday.

"Of course, baby. Here, sit up a little for me," he sat up, too, moving off you enough so that you could copy him. Once you were up, he reached behind you and found the zipper with his hands. "Are you sure you want this?"

"Yes, Steve," you murmured, preparing yourself to be exposed to him.

He took what you said to be the truth as he slowly, reverently, unzipped your dress. Your eyes watched his, waiting for them to glance at your body and give away his true thoughts, but they never did. His eyes stayed right where they were, on your face, reading your reactions. When the zipper came to it's stopping point, you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding in.

"Want me to take it off?" He questioned, fingers finding the straps that once rested on your shoulders that had slipped on when the fabric loosened. You nodded and maneuvered your arms out of the straps.

He exposed your bra, then the entirety of your stomach before the trapped fabric stopped him from revealing anymore. You could hardly stand to make eye contact with him. You weren't exactly the most confident in your self, but that wasn't the main problem here. The problem was that you were now more exposed to Steve than you'd ever been to anyone.

"Wanna lift your hips for me, real quick?" He asked, referring to the skirt of your dress that you were sitting on. You slowly moved to let him free it before settling back into place, dress completely gone. He called your name, effectively bringing you back to reality, "you okay?"

"I'm alright, just...cold," you lied, flinching slightly when you saw that he caught it.

"This isn't gonna work if you lie, you gotta tell me how you're feeling," he reminded you, gently guiding you to lay back down in the cozy sheets.

"I'm really nervous, Steve," you whispered.

"Yeah? Why, honey?" He asked, moving back on top of you. Your legs easily parted as your feet moved up the mattress, legs bending at the knee on either side of him. The position was intimate, yes, you had nothing on but your bra and underwear and he was shirtless, but it wasn't sexual. It was safe, securing, warm. It was easy.

"No one's seen me like this before, Steve," you continued to keep your voice a whisper, not trusting yourself to keep your voice steady.

He considered your words for a moment, then replied, "Can I ask you something?"

You nodded, curious as to where he was going.

"I see you, honey, don't I? I see you happy, sad, angry, flustered," he brushed his nose against yours on the last word, making you both smile. "what's so different about me seeing you like this? Satisfied, breathless, still so beautiful it makes my chest hurt," he questioned.

Your wide eyes met his, considering his question. He made a good point, and you really had no rebuttal. The new perspective eased your mind exponentially.

Steve felt your body relax under his and he smiled at you, gently leaning in for another kiss. You responded eagerly, like you had forgotten the reason why you were up in his room, nearly naked below him.

"That's it, baby, you're doing so good," he praised, the moment getting heated once again.

"Steve," you desperately sighed into his mouth, hands nearly clawing at his shoulders, anything to get him closer to you.

"Hmm?" he groaned, one hand coming up to cup the underside of your breast, along the cup of your bra.

"Take it off...please."

'What, your-your bra? You want me to take off your bra?" He sounded almost startled by you straightforward request, but once you nodded, he did so immediately.

Instead of feeling overwhelmed or scared, you felt beautiful. Steve's words earlier really helped you see the situation differently, let you see how much he was into it, how much he wanted you, back.

He tossed your bra and dove in between your boobs, hoping it wasn't too desperate of an act. You did not mind at all, in fact you rather enjoyed the attention on a new part of your body - one that was relatively unexplored.

Steve leaned his head to the side, pressing kisses to the curve and all the way up to your nipple. He had a hand cupping the base of each of them, his mouth moving over you nipple as he softly sucked and nipped the skin around it. It was easy to tell you liked it with the way you were arching your back and gripping his hair.

"Steve," you mewled as he switched nipples.

"Yeah, baby-" he paused, sucking a mark into your skin, making you moan.

"More, please" you nearly begged, your aching core pleading to be touched.

"Patience, sweetheart," he muttered in your skin, having his fun with your tits.

It only took him a few more seconds until his hand slid down your torso, hands finding the top elastic of your patterned panties. You swallowed, willing yourself to find the courage to let him love on you some more. You wanted him so badly - wanted anything you could get. You lifted your hips, encouraging him to slide the underwear off. He gladly did so, lips coming back up to your neck. As heat rushed through you, so did an unexpected wave of confidence. Wanting to see him, to feel him, you reached your needy hands down and started undoing his belt. He groaned in pleasure as it came undone, helping you get him out of his pants. Much to your dismay, he kept his boxers on.

You weren't too upset, however. You still felt him 10x more clearly. His long, hard length rubbed against you as you both shifted around, seeking friction and comfort.

Just as you were about to ask for more, he gave a quick kiss to your lips before sliding down towards the foot of the bed, face nearing your dripping center. He kissed your body the entire way down, whispering sweet words of gratitude and praise against your sweating, flushed skin. You shifted you hips up towards his face, seeking his mouth as he kissed everywhere but the place you needed him the most. His hands gripped your hips, arms wrapped around under your thighs, keeping you spread for him. After kissing and giving occasional nips to the inside of your thighs, he rested his cheek on one, looking up at you.

"You okay with this?" He checked in, unsure if your heavy breathing was from arousal or fear.

"Yes, yes I'm more than okay with it, just please—" you begged, shocked at the words coming out of your mouth. Steve huffed a chuckle, not quite laughing at you, but more so at the way you were acting. It wasn't funny to him, in fact he was achingly hard at your reactions, he was just amused as he listened to your unfiltered words, the desire you felt making it hard to be shy.

He cut off your short ramble by pressing a sweet, gentle kiss right on top of your clit, shutting you up easily. You gasped, hips locking up as he pressed another kiss, then another, all trailing further down until his lips were met with the slick dripping out of your entrance. He then finally put his tongue to work, gathering all your arousal and dragging it up in his path back to your clit, which he circled and sucked.

Your hips unlocked and your hands moved to his hair. Once you were able to open your eyes, you looked down at Steve who was staring up at you, trying to read your face for any signs that you were uncomfortable, but he only found blatant pleasure written across your features. Your eyebrows furrowed and your jaw dropped, mouth hanging open as he sucked and swirled.

Every now and then, you heard, or rather felt, Steve moan against you. The vibrations sent shocks throughout your body, bringing you closer and closer.

"I'm gonna try something, okay? Tell me if you don't like it," Steve rasped, licking his lips between words. You nodded your head, not really sure if he could do anything you didn't like. Your theory was proven correct when he started to work you with his fingers, alternating between using his tongue to fuck into you and his fingers. Which ever one wasn't inside you was circling your clit with the exact pressure he learned you liked. If he kept going like this...

"Steve, I'm close-I'm.." you trailed off as your body froze, legs tightening just like your insides. Your head pressed into the pillows, chin pointed towards the ceiling as you came, soaking Steve's fingers and lips. He gently worked you through it and stopped when he thought you had enough, not wanting to overstimulate you.

Pulling off of you, he crawled back over your body so that he could kiss the breathless expression off your face. You could taste yourself on his lips, on his tongue, and you never thought something so erotic could be so sensual, so intimate. But, then again, you were with Steve, who could make anything feel like that.

"You liked that, huh?" He teased, rubbing a large hand over one of your thighs, bringing you down to earth, soothing you.

"Yeah," you breathed, giggling back softly. After taking a deep breath you looked back up at, your expression now serious as you wrapped your arms around his neck. "I'm ready to...you know," you awkwardly admitted, hoping to spur on his movements.

He nodded, dipping his head for a few more passionate kisses, getting the moment right once more. He worked his boxers off and reached over to your left, opening his nightstand drawer and pulling out a condom. He settled back over you properly, his cock pressing into your stomach, letting you feel his veins and the slick of his pre cum, already starting to spill over the head. He handed you the condom, letting you unwrap it as if it was your final act of proving you were ready. The last thing he wanted to do was rush you.

You peeled the wrapper, pinching out the small rubber disk. Steve took both from you, tossing the trash and pushing his cock through the ring. You made a small sound of protest, causing Steve to go completely still, looking down at you.

"You okay? Wanna stop?" He asked.

"No, no! I just...I wanna do it," you begrudgingly admitted, glancing at his swollen cock just barely in the condom.

"Oh, you scared me, honey," he chuckled, letting your hands replace him. You soon realized you didn't know what you were doing, and looked up at him for support. "Just roll it on towards me, it'll figure it's self out," he guided as you got him situated. He adjusted the tip slightly before looking up at you, giving you an praising smile. "Good job, pretty girl," he muttered, kissing your forehead.

You smiled the way you always did when he called you that - bashful and full of heat. You smiled back at you, leaning his face in yours, lips and noses brushing.

"I'm gonna start pushing in, okay? I'll take it nice and easy for you, don't worry. If it hurts, promise me you'll tell me."

"I promise... please, Steve, I need you," you whined, gripping at his muscular arms and shoulders.

He chuckled a little before kissing you sweetly, aligning himself with your entrance. You felt him poking you there, your breath hitching. Steve took one of your hands and laced your fingers with his, pressing your intertwined hand into the bed as he finally slipped the tip in.

"Steve," you breathed, clamping down on what little was in you already. He paused for a moment, both for you and himself, letting you adjust.

"Ready for a little more?" He asked after a moment, receiving a nod from you as you bit your lip. "Hey, no, let me hear you," he kissed you until you released you lip and moaned.

It continued for a while, him pushing in inch by agonizing inch, you whining and squirming beneath him, trying to let your body adjust while he reminded you to relax or it wouldn't feel good.

When he finally bottomed out, you were on cloud 9.

You were so full, so filled up by Steve that there was not one other thought on your mind. All you could think was Steve, Steve, Steve. And as for Steve, all he could think about was you, his precious girl.

He thought of how far you'd come in the past year, how good you were to him, how you were currently sucking him in, how if he paid too much attention to that last part he'd be done for.

"Steve, move," you whined under him, hips shifting to encourage him to start fucking into you with his cock like he did with his fingers and tongue.

"Oh, fuck--okay. I'm gonna go-gonna go slow, alright?" He grunted, willing himself to keep his composure.

Sure enough, he dragged his painfully hard (and large) cock out of you, slower than a snail, only about halfway, before pressing back in, a little quicker.

"Oh, Steve!" You gasped, hands holding him even closer, eyebrows pinching together again.

"I know, baby. God, you feel so good," he breathed out, voice strangled.

"More, please, I can handle it," you once again begged.

And Steve once again listened, pulling out about halfway before grinding back into you, hitting every nerve that lined you walls, every nerve that made you cry for more. The stretched was intense for a while, almost so much that you asked him to stop, but the pleasure was 1000x times better, keeping you going. Soon, the pain even out then disappeared, leaving only you, Steve, and the desire between you.

Noticing it was easier to slide in and out, Steve began to move faster, harder. He pulled out a little more each time until he was eventually pulling out nearly all the way and then pushing back into you, hard enough to press into that special spot, but still so, so gentle, so loving, so Steve.

He kept on for a while until you were both panting, desperate messes, whining and gasping against each other lips. His hands moved over your breasts and waists before one move to thumb at your clit, working you even higher. Your hands scratched his back and shoulders, and gripped his strong biceps.

"Fuck, baby...I'm close," he grunted, sweaty and breathless.

"Steve," you moaned, unable to think of anything else to say. All you knew was that you needed something you could only get from him.

You arched your back up into his stomach, letting the plush skin and fuzzy hair rub against you, and oh, how you loved it. He doubled down on his efforts to make you meet him at the release. He applied more friction to your clit and pushed into you with a little more force, never changing his rhythm or speed.

Right as his body tensed, condom filled, your release crashed over your entire body. You closed you eyes, just feeling. Feeling Steve's face nuzzled in your neck as his thrusts shallowed, coming to a stop. Feeling your body slowly come down from the mind-altering release. Steve stayed buried inside you for a few more moments, then gently pulled out, pressing himself up to his palms, then moving off you completely.

He disposed of his condom properly and rounded the bed to give you a kiss on the head, telling you to sit tight, and what else were you supposed to do?

A couple minutes later, Steve returned with a new pair of boxers on, your long forgotten over night bag, and a wet washcloth in his hands. You let out a breath of relief, smiling.

"Didn't think I'd leave you hanging, did ya?" He teased.

"No, I know better than that," you teased back, a fond yet exhausted smile on your face.

"That's right," he smiled back, digging out your pajamas. After he helped you get cleaned up, he also helped you get changed, offering you water or snacks. You declined, just wanting him to get in bed with you so you could snuggle. You were cold, after all, and Steve was like a furnace. He giggled at your playful gestures, urging him to get in bed.

Once he was finally curled up in his heavy sheets, you laying halfway on top of him, did your eyes start to flutter.

"Steve?" You called for his attention, voice tired and soft.

"Hm?" he responded, much the same.

"Happy one year," you smiled into his chest. One year.

"Happy one year, baby. You know I love you?" He asked softly, another line now crossed.

Usually, that would have been a big deal that flustered you to the point of not being able to speak, but right now, in your eased and satisfied state of mind, it only made you smile.

"I love you, you know that?" you responded, poking lazily at his chest. He grinned and kissed your head.

"Hope your first time was good. I know I liked it, at least," he joked.

"It was more than good, honey. I don't think I'll ever be the same," you replied, your words coming across more sincere than you meant.

"Well, I'm happy to try and satiated you."

"Good luck."

At first, he's pretty subtle about it. Steve resets all the clocks in the trailer so they're 15 minutes fast. That combined with Steve's insistence that they leave early gets Eddie to band practice with plenty of time to chit chat while Steve subtly plugs in the amps and hands Warlock to Eddie to idly tune as they talk. After practice, he saying things that he used to hear his coaches say, like "you know, all the guys really look up to you. You're like their leader and good leaders lead by example."

This all only gets him so far, Eddie tones down his language but he's still acting like a dictator, not realizing that even he needs to take a break, get a drink, and most of all, eat something. The next time Eddie unloads his gear from the van, Steve removes the cooler he'd packed. Everyone makes fun of him at first, "who brings snacks to band practice." But half way through the second hour, when everyone's patients is at it's end, Steve pulls out the orange slices, peanut butter-filled celery sticks, and string cheese he brought. "I haven't had ants on a log since I was like 5," Jeff exclaims, snatching up half of the contents of the Tupperware.

The last hurdle to overcome is scheduling. They're supposed to practice a few times a week, Eddie would prefer three times, but everyone else has stuff to do. By the time they're packing up and trying to settle on the next practice date, it ends up being a week away or sometimes more. Finally, Steve talks to each of them, figures out their individual schedules and settles on set practice dates and times.

With everyone getting along and double the practice time, Corroded Coffin starts to sound really good. So good in fact, that the next time Eddie, Steve, and Robin go to their favorite gay bar in Indianapolis, Steve can't help up talk them up to anyone who will listen.

"Well, of course you think they're good," the Manager says with a roll of his eyes. He'd only been talking to Steve cause he was so cute but he was kind of over it now that he knew he had a boyfriend.

"No, seriously, I hate that kind of music but unfortunately, they're actually really good," Robin groans, against her better judgement. She'd never wanted to develop a taste for Corroded Coffin but over the last few months, if she'd wanted to hang out with Steve, that usually entailed also hanging out with Eddie so she'd tagged along to a few practices and, much to her chagrin, she'd started to like them.

"We don't really play that kind of music here. It's not very danceable!"

"Yeah, but you have theme nights, right? And have you see how metal fans dress? Lots of leather... well, not lots if you know what I'm saying," Eddie said, shooting Steve a flirty wink.