#matchpointfaist

you’d known steve harrington since middle school. he’d once been all awkward, gangly limbs, too loud laugh, polite, albeit shy, gestures. when you got to high school, though, all that seemed to fade away. long gone was the quiet, reserved boy you’d known. by junior year, he was all cocky grins and boisterous laughs, charming persona working overtime to conceal what you had once recognized as the very same desire to fit in that festered inside you all those years ago. he traded in his red bike for a flashy bmw, his star wars action figures for a walkman that he refused to take off, even during class. he was the king of the high school, and you weren’t sure he even knew you existed. that all changed, though, after the summer of ‘86, when your little brother and his friends, including steve himself, seemingly saved the world, and you were none the wiser. you still remembered the day the group of them had turned up at your house after the events unfolded, bruised and bloody, and dustin had broken down and told you the truth, the whole ugly, nasty expanse of it, of how eddie had died and there were creatures roaming freely, monstrous things, and how steve- good natured, gentle steve- had so bravely and fiercely protected them all. you’d started to look at him differently, then.

months after everything happened, steve became a fixture at your house. you’d come home after a day of classes just to find him in your living room, hours deep into a game of d&d or whatever dustin had dragged him into that day. some nights, you’d emerge from your bedroom just to see him sprawled out on the sofa, arm over his face as he slept, as comfortable as he would’ve been at home. you wouldn’t admit it to anyone (you could hardly admit it to yourself), but the sight warmed something in you, a tender little spot opening up to him. you’d woken up from an unintentional nap one afternoon, skipping down the stairs in shorts and an oversized band shirt, to find the house eerily quiet, your brother clearly gone or asleep. “is anybody home?” you called, greeted by silence, then quiet steps, then steve harrington’s big brown eyes staring at you from the doorframe. “hey, sorry, henderson walked down to mike’s to get an atari game. i didn’t know anyone was home.”

“it’s fine,” you propped yourself up in the counter, legs swinging as you sipped your ice water, watching him across the room, “don’t you have better things to do than sit around waiting on my little brother, harrington?” he looked, for the briefest second, something close to embarrassed, scratching the back of his neck and nearly cringing, “not really. i mean, henderson- dustin, sorry, he’s a great kid. i care a lot about all of them, but he’s my buddy. why? do you think that’s weird?” “no,” you shook your head, smiling faintly, “it’s sweet. he really looks up to you, for whatever reason. and i guess i owe you for saving his life, if that really is the truth of what happened.” “i mean, we all sort of saved each other,” he looked down, and you could see a flush on his neck and ears, “it wasn’t a big deal,” “oh, totally. saving the world is no big deal,” you resisted the urge to roll your eyes, “you’ve changed a lot since school. the steve i knew would never pass up an opportunity to gloat.” “you didn’t really know me, to be fair,” he met your eyes, “we never talked.” “you wouldn’t have talked to me,” you laughed it off, but the thought of it passively stung. “are you kidding?” he didn’t return your laugh, but made a small, incredulous sort of sound, “you wouldn’t have talked to me. you were too cool for all my high school shit.”

that surprised you, deep in your core. “i think you might have brain damage,” you teased, “it was the other way around, harrington. or should i call you the king, jog your memory?” “oh, come on,” he laughed, shaking his head, “nobody actually called me that.” “bullshit!” you grinned, pointing in accusation, “all your friends called you that. you’re such a liar.” “well i didn’t ask them to,” his cheeks were red, “it was stupid. anyway, i meant it. you were too cool for me, you were always so above all the cliques and popularity.” “maybe i just didn’t get invited to any cliques,” you joked, but it rang true in your mind, echoed the out of place feeling you couldn’t ever shake, “it’s fine, steve. honestly.” “you were so pretty,” that was not something you ever would’ve expected, “half the guys i knew wanted to ask you out, but they were scared because of your whole aloof vibe. you still are. pretty, i mean, obviously. duh.” he ran a hand over his face, shaking his head again, like he’d done something wrong. “well, i would’ve told them no anyway,” your voice was softer now, “so they were right not to.”

“i wanted to ask you to prom,” it seemed to tear out of him, “i’d seen you around, uh, i thought it was really cool how you did theater. i figured you’d say no, though, and then i ended up going with nancy, so.” “what?” you blinked, brows knit, “prom? why would you have asked me?” “i just told you,” he scrunched his nose, “you’re really pretty, and you were just, i don’t know. you seemed really cool, but that was ages ago. it’s honestly embarrassing, forget i said anything.” “it’s not embarrassing,” you slipped off the counter, took a step toward him, “its sweet, steve. thank you.” “thank you?” he repeated, looking at you in a strange way, a look you hadn’t seen on his face before, “that’s not- you should give yourself more credit, okay? you’re, i mean, you’re beautiful. you should know that.” “thank you,” you almost giggled, butterflies blooming in your stomach, “i don’t know what else to say. i had a crush on you in middle school, actually, which is super embarrassing, and then in high school, i don’t know. you didn’t feel attainable anymore.”

“attainable?” he took a step closer, now, looking down at you with impossibly dark eyes, “i was more than attainable, for you. you could’ve told me to jump and i would’ve asked how high. i didn’t think you’d ever want to be with somebody like me, thought you’d think i was stuck up or shallow or something.” you couldn’t believe what you were hearing. “don’t be ridiculous,” was all you could manage, smiling and shaking your head, “that’s crazy, steve.” “it’s not crazy,” he was so close you could smell his cologne, like citrus and pine, hazing your senses, “i was crazy about you, though. maybe i still am.” you looked up, met his eyes, and he pushed a lock of hair from your face, gentle and light “careful,” you murmured, swallowing, “i don’t think your best friend would be too crazy about you liking his sister.” “he’s not here, is he?”

his breath fanned over your lips, and your nerves stood on end, “can i kiss you?” you nodded, embarrassingly quick, not wanting to waste another minute without his lips on yours. he put one hand on your waist, the other settled warmly against your cheek, and pressed his lips to yours, stealing the breath from your lungs, the reason and logic from your mind. he tasted like orange soda and carmex, and you hummed against him, twining your arms around his neck and standing on your tiptoes to press closer to him. he kissed you firmly but gently, slow and steady, with a confidence that reminded you this was still the steve you knew in high school. “i’m home!” dustin’s voice echoed through the house, and you jerked away, face flush and chest hammering. “are you in here? i got 2 games and picked up some pop!” you crossed the room, downing your water, trying your hardest to look casual as your brother pushed open the door to the kitchen, “what’re you guys doing?” “oh, we both came down to get water,” steve lied easily, but you could practically see his heart beating, “what games did you get, kid?” and then they were gone, and you were left to choke on your feelings for him, this boy who had infiltrated your heart so easily.

the busyness of everyday life kept the two of you apart for the following two weeks. you only caught glimpses of him, his smiling face as he stumbled in the door with dustin just as you were on your way out, or seeing his headlights disappearing from the drive just as you descended the stairs. “henderson, where’s your sister?” constantly echoing in the basement, or “hey, dusty, when’s steve coming back by?” leaving your lips. “you guys are acting weird,” your brother finally said one evening, glancing pointedly at you, “why are you asking about steve? he asked about you, too.” “he did?” you tried to keep your composure, “oh, uhm, it’s private. personal, i mean.” “private? what the hell would you need to keep private between you and my best friend?” it was the wrong thing to say, you knew. in a panic, your mouth working faster than your brain, you said, “it’s for your birthday, dust. it’s a surprise, jeez. don’t ruin it.” the lie came easily. his birthday was only a month away, after all. he grinned at that, brightening, “you don’t have to do anything,” he said, but he was smiling anyway, and you felt a pang of guilt, “but thanks. you can hang out with him, then, i guess.” oh, you had intentions to do much more than hang out, but you’d never tell your kid brother that. “great,” you finally said, smiling, “maybe i’ll see him this week, then.”

the next day, you were laying out in the yard, a fresh tan leaving lines from your bikini on your freckled skin, sun lotion glistening on the planes of your chest as you leaned against the lawn chair, eyes closed, your headphones connected to your walkman, drowning out the summertime bustle. a shadow cooled your skin, and you blinked, puzzled, only to find steve standing over you, grinning like he’d won a prize. “hey there, henderson,” he said, just as you slipped off your headphones, the quiet music polluting the air, “puttin on a show for me? or did you get bored waiting around?” “steve,” you felt a warmth hotter than the july sun spread over you, “i didn’t know you were coming, dustin didn’t tell me.” “unplanned visit,” he tapped the vhs in his hand, “got an early return on this at work, wanted to surprise him with it.” you sat up fully, blinking and squinting your eyes as the sun rays haloed his head, “anything i’d wanna watch?” “not unless you like slashers,” he gestured to the cover, “but i’d love the company.” “you shouldn’t be buying him shit like that,” you scolded, standing, sipping the now watered down iced tea beside your chair, “i could watch it, though. i’m free tonight.”

“no hot dates?” he brushed a piece of hair from your face, leaning just a bit closer to you, “you really were waiting for me, weren’t you, sweetheart?” the huskiness of his voice sent a shiver down your spine, “in your dreams, harrington.” “oh, every night, baby,” he flashed you his million dollar smile, his hand slipping down to pop your bikini strap, “come on. dustin’s watching from the window.” “shit,” you exhaled, picking up your discarded walkman and glass, “if he asks, we were talking about the surprise.” “what surprise?” he asked, just as you stepped up to the front door. right as you opened your mouth to reply, dustin swung open the front door, grinning ear to ear. “no way you got it!” his eyes trained on the vhs in steve’s hands, “come on, hurry up!” the moment fizzled as you watched them start towards the basement, “i’m gonna go change and i’ll join you,” you called after them, “i’ll bring snacks!”

twenty minutes later, you skipped down the basement steps carrying a box of chips ahoy and a bag of doritos, your bikini traded in for a baggy star wars shirt and gym shorts. you paused in the doorway, watching as steve had what appeared to be a very serious conversation with your brother, his eyes all squinted in focus and his tone soft but informative. “if you like her, you gotta go for it, henderson,” steve said, clapping the boy on the back, “i’ll tell you, man, you do not want to live with that regret, alright? trust me, i’ve got my share of regretting to do, and i don’t want that for you, kid.” dustin had a crush? and steve was coaching him through it? “i’m not like you, steve,” dustin replied, “i can’t just swoon girls and charm their pants off.” “okay, first of all, i don’t charm their pants off,” steve laughed, rich and warm, “i’m as stupid as anybody when it comes to love, alright? when the right girl comes along, it’s like, boom, there goes my suave, there goes my sanity, yknow? you just gotta talk to her, kid. don’t regret it like i do.” you cleared your throat, then, feeling terrible for intruding, “i brought cookies and chips!” you hoped they didn’t know you’d overheard it all. “great!” steve lit up, standing to insert the vhs, flopping back down to pat the seat beside him, “let’s get started.”

you tried to focus on the movie, really, but your thoughts kept creeping back to steve’s words, the way he’d told dustin he had regrets. you wondered if it was about you, about prom, or maybe if there was some other girl he’d yearned for, lusted after. the thought sent an uncomfortable pang of jealousy through you, and you hoped to bury it as you tried once again to focus on the gritty screen, watching as some camper stumbled upon yet another body. “this is sick,” dustin sounded elated, “thanks again, steve.” “anytime, henderson,” his tone was so painfully endearing, affectionate as if dustin was his own brother. it warmed you all over, his tenderness for your family. it always had. an hour passed, and the credits rolled, some cheesy song playing as the names filled your screen. “alright, boys, i’m off to bed,” you stood, smoothing out your clothes, “don’t stay up too late, kay?” “whatever you say, mom,” dustin teased, rolling his eyes, “night.” “night, dusty,” you ruffled his hair before turning to steve, “night, harrington.” “goodnight,” his tongue swiped along his bottom lip as he watched you turn to go, “sweet dreams.” you thought of your interaction earlier, the way he’d say ‘every night’, a tingle creeping up your spine. you could feel his dark eyes on you as you bounded up the stairs to the main level of the house before rounding the corner, heading up to your room.

you couldn’t shake it, the feeling of his presence, his attention. you tossed and turned in bed, totally restless, unable to focus your racing mind on anything other than him. hours slipped past, and you could do nothing to silence the recurring, attention-demanding thoughts. you saw his face when you closed your eyes, heard his voice, velvet smooth, in your ears. you sighed in frustration as your eyes landed on your clock reading 1am, huffing and finally giving in to the persistent ache between your thighs, hoping it would finally help you rest. there was a fleeting sense of shame as you slid your hand beneath your cotton briefs, sucking in a breath as the pad of your finger met your slick clit, but it soon gave way to an all consuming pleasure, a shameless and ceaseless need. within minutes, your chest was heaving, your skin flushed and face undoubtedly red. “oh, god, steve,” fell from your bitten lips, hips bucking against your palm, “steve, please.” just then, like some sick, cruel joke, your bedroom door clicked open, steve harrington stepping through and pressing his back against it, “thank god, i swear i almost woke dustin up,” and then his eyes fell on you, took in the sight before him, and his cheeks darkened, “were you touching yourself, sweetheart?” “no!” you shot up, jerking your blanket back over your bare legs, horribly embarrassed but deeply frustrated, “jesus, steve! what are you doing in here? are you trying to get caught?”

“oh, you’re such a bad liar,” he had that signature grin as he padded closer, “i knew i wasn’t daydreamin’ hearing my name before i opened the door.” his hand found your thigh over the thin blanket, squeezing gently, teasingly, “you all worked up, hm? you’re so jumpy.” “i was asleep,” another lie, “what’re you doing here? it’s so late.” “wanted to see my girl,” his free hand brushed your hair from your face, “look at you, all hot and tense. you pent up, sweetheart?” “fuck off, harrington,” you rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help the way your breath hitched as his hand crept higher, teasing you through the covers. “i don’t think you want me to fuck off,” he leaned in, breath ghosting over your jaw, your ear, “let me finish what you started, baby. then i’ll go away.” with that, his hand crept beneath the blanket, finding your slick underwear, fingers tracing the wet patch on the cotton. “oh, god,” you exhaled shakily, eyes closed, head tipped back, “we shouldn’t- god, steve.” “is this okay?” he pressed a kiss to your jawline, his stubble tickling your skin, “do you want me to stop?” “no, please don’t,” you shook your head, half whining, desperately wanting more.

“i got you,” he murmured, pressing his lips to yours just as he sank two fingers into your dripping entrance, muffling the high, surprised moan that threatened to spill out. he kissed you just as he had in the kitchen weeks prior, firm but gentle, letting you have some control but taking the lead. his fingers worked your core expertly, curling inside you, his thumb pressed against your aching clit. you felt him smirk against your mouth when a particularly loud noise poured out of you, just as you clenched around his digits, thighs squeezing around his wrist. “you close, sweetheart?” he pulled back just enough to whisper, voice raspy, “can feel you squeezin my fingers.” “so close,” you nodded, dizzy with pleasure, chasing his lips to kiss him again. he was hungrier then, tongue sliding against yours, biting at your bottom lip with a soft fervor. you clutched his bicep as you came undone, trying your hardest to keep quiet, thighs trembling and muscles quaking from the intensity of your orgasm. “there you go,” he hummed, satisfied as he pulled his fingers out carefully. you watched through lidded eyes as he brought them to his lips, your own parting in surprise when he brought them into his mouth, licking your taste off of the skin. “oh my god,” he nearly groaned, “you taste so good, baby. knew you would.”

your chest heaved with panting breaths as he pressed messy kisses to the inside of your wrist, up your arm. “been havin wet dreams about you like a fucking virgin ever since that night in the kitchen,” he murmured, voice raspy, “you gonna put me out of my misery and let me fuck you, baby?” you were hopeless to resist, nodding and looping your arms around his neck, pulling him down into a hot and fast kiss, your legs twining around his carelessly. he fumbled between your bodies, struggling but eventually pushing down his sweats and boxers, and you pulled away from his hungry mouth just long enough to gaze at his length, the messy brown curls crowning his flushed cock. “fuck,” you whispered, “you’re huge.” “you sure know how to flatter me, sweetheart,” you could hear the grin in his tone, but soon lost the urge to call him cocky when he brushed his tip against your sticky clit, your breath hitching. “fuck me,” he groaned, his free hand curling in the hair at the back of your head, grounding himself, “you ready?” “yes,” your voice was breathy and light, “yes, please.” he slowly, carefully pushed into you, your walls stretching to accommodate his size as he slid all the way in, his head falling to your chest to muffle a moan. “oh, god,” you mewled, squeezing around him, “you’re so big, steve, s’so good.” “look at that, baby,” he managed to find his voice after a moment of stillness, leaning up to meet your eyes, his own swallowed up by pupil, “she’s sucking me in, greedy girl. even better than my dreams.”

the moment he was sure you’d adjusted to him, he was thrusting into you, one hand gently covering your mouth, muffling the endless stream of moans and pleas, your brain too hazy to care about anyone hearing. “fuckin perfect,” he grunted, all but slamming into you, your wetness sticking to the base of him with each thrust, “knew you’d feel like this, angel. should’ve fucked you sooner.” your back arched as his thrusts grew faster, his own high approaching, his neck and cheeks flushed red as he lost himself in pleasure. “come on, sweet girl, let me feel you fall apart on my cock,” his head dipped down to nip at your neck, slipping his fingers into your mouth, less effective at quieting your sounds but only adding to your pleasure, “give it to me, baby.” “stevie,” you gasped, vision white as you finally came undone on his length, soaking him even further, your hips writhing with the intensity of it. “there it is,” he groaned, head tipping back as he pounded into you, his hands giving up on muffling your voice only to make a home on your hips, rocking you back onto him, “can i- fuck, i’m close, can i fill you up, baby? please?” “yes,” you weren’t even sure how you managed it, “on the pill.” “god, yes,” he let out a deep, raspy moan as he came, barely able to help himself, letting himself get lost in the feeling of coming inside of you. he pulled out after a moment, chest still heaving, watching as your hole leaked, evidence of the moment spilling out onto your baby pink sheets. he collapsed beside you, bringing your head to his chest, your nose scrunching as little curls of hair tickled your cheeks.

“you’re such an idiot, jonathan,” it was a common sentence uttered from your lips lately, “you don’t even know what we’re arguing about!”

“you’re right, i don’t!” there was a frustrated whine to his voice, as he raked his hands through his hair, “i would never cheat on you-“

“i know you wouldn’t,” you huffed, “i’m not accusing you of doing anything. i’m accusing you of having feelings for someone else, and thinking i’m too stupid to notice!”

“come on, please,” he threw his head back, sighing, “nancy is just a friend, she was there for me a lot with everything with will. it’s not like that, i wouldn’t do that.”

“i told you i know that,” you shook your head, “but i’m not gonna hold you back from what you clearly want, okay? you’re free to do whatever with whoever you please.”

“wait- are you dumping me?” for a moment, you saw a flush of hurt across his face, but it seemed swallowed by an uneasy relief, “babe, come on. seriously.”

“let’s just take a break,” you suggested, not for the first time in your tumultuous relationship, “you can think about what you really want, and i’ll do the same, okay? it’s fine, jonathan, honestly. i’m not angry at you, i just want to figure this out.”

“yeah, okay. fine,” he let out a shaky breath, nodding slowly, “if that’s what you want.”

“it is,” you murmured, “we’ll talk in a couple weeks, okay? i think this’ll be good for both of us. you know i don’t want you to be hurt.”

“yeah, i know,” you could tell he meant it, “see you in 2 weeks, then?”

“2 weeks,” you smiled faintly, “see you then.” it was an odd feeling, the resolution, the relief. you loved jonathan, in a way. he’d been there through so much, even just as a friend, and you wanted nothing but the best for him, even if that best was nancy wheeler. he’d do the same for you, you told yourself, the words assuring you of your decision as you drove home.

what you didn’t expect, though, was to see them together the very next day as you strolled through town, on your way to return books to the library. she was laughing, her face bright in the way it only was around him, and he looked so at ease, so happy, smiling down at her in that shy way he did. they looked good together, you thought. great, even, like it was natural. it had never come that easy for the two of you. you shook the thoughts from your mind, sliding the books into their return slot and turning on your heel, heading back toward your house. as you rounded the street corner, you collided with a wall. no, not a wall, a chest, though it was firm and strong- you looked up, and there was steve harrington, a lopsided grin on his lips and a stray curl on his forehead.

“woah, there,” he laughed, one hand on your shoulder, steadying you, “you alright?”

“fine,” you nodded quickly, unsure why your skin felt so hot beneath his palm, “sorry, i was totally in my own world.”

“don’t worry about it,” he shook his head, letting his touch linger, “you’re y/n, right? byers girlfriend?”

you tried not to be irritated by the association; “yeah. we had science together senior year.”

“oh, i remember,” he laughed again, warm and rich, “you’re like, a complete genius. i would’ve failed if i didn’t get to peak over your shoulder at your notes.”

“you did not!” you gasped, swatting his arm, “that’s awful, steve! i didn’t know i was an accomplice in your cheating.”

“oh, relax. that was forever ago,” he grinned, “what’re you doing out? i saw byers earlier, but he was with nancy.”

you bristled slightly, “i just had to return some books. i wasn’t meeting jonathan.”

“he’s not screwing around on you, is he?” he suddenly looked serious, stern, “i’ll go talk some sense into him, if he is. you just say the word.”

“no, steve, it’s fine,” you shook your head, almost smiling at his sincerity, hesitating before slowly explaining the situation, this break arrangement, jonathan’s infatuation.

“sounds like he is screwing around,” steve said when you were finished, eyeing you cautiously, like he was worried, “but you sound like you don’t care. why not just break up with him?”

“i want him to see this is the right thing,” you shrugged, “it’s complicated, i guess. i’m really not upset, though. you can stop looking at me like that.”

he put his hands up in mock surrender, eyes sparkling, “hey, i wasn’t looking at you like anything. i do have an idea, though.”

“what’s that?” you eyed him suspiciously.

“let me take you out,” he suggested, almost casually, “i mean, if byers gets to run around with nance. it’s only fair, don’t you think?”

“are you flirting with me, steve harrington?” you gasped dramatically, grinning.

“come on, now. who wouldn’t flirt with you?” his voice was softer, sincere, cutting right through the careless charade you’d put on. so, fine, okay. you’d go on a date with steve harrington.

steve, it turns out, was endlessly charming. you knew he could flirt, had seen it time and time again in high school, witnessed the trail of girls he left in his wake, always swooning and swearing he was some sort of god. what you didn’t expect, though, was to become one of those girls yourself, giggling and sharing a milkshake with him, hanging off his every word like it was gospel. it had been a long time since you’d been so relaxed, had such easy fun, let someone charm you. a small part of you felt guilty; it had only been one day, after all. but then you remembered the way jonathan and nancy had looked together, and the months on end that you’d spent with one foot out the door. it hadn’t just been a day, not really. it had been nearly a year of halfhearted affection and forced loyalty. so you pushed it all down, focusing on steve, which felt like the easiest thing in the world when he was so focused on you in return.

“you really are beautiful,” steve’s voice pulled you from your thoughts, and you blinked, slightly startled, “i mean, you were pretty in school, obviously. but you’re gorgeous now.”

“oh,” you flushed, down to your bones, “thank you. i look the same, though, really-“

“don’t do that,” he tsk’d, “let me tell a beautiful girl that she’s beautiful, yeah?” and then he reached across the table, brushing a lock of hair from your face, gentle as anything, “i get why byers was always following you around with that camera. i wish i had one right now.”

you’d never been the spontaneous type. you were methodical, an overthinker, precise and considerate. you weren’t sure, despite all of this, what possessed you to lean over the table and kiss steve harrington. maybe it was the lighting, maybe the way his eyes shined when he looked at you, the way his fingers toyed with the strand of hair as he tucked it behind your ear. you could tell yourself any number of things, but you knew it was only that it was him, that he liked you, that you liked him, that it felt natural, just as it did for nancy and jonathan.

he kissed you back the same way he did everything, easy and sure, right in a way you couldn’t fake. his hand settled on your cheek, cupping your face, pulling you closer despite the diners other occupants. his tongue slid across your bottom lip, and you had to pull away, cheeks hot and lips shining.

“we shouldn’t-“ left your lips, just as he said, “my cars right outside.”

he paid the bill in cash, leaving an excellent tip and pulling you out of the diner in a flurry of movement.

“let me take you somewhere,” he pulled the passenger door open for you, waiting until your legs were tucked safely inside before closing it, sliding across the hood as he went around to his side.

“like where?” you were still buzzing from the kiss, watching his every move, hungry for him.

“just trust me,” shockingly, you found that you did.

his hand settled on your thigh across the console as he drove, the fingers of his free hand tapping the steering wheel along to the music playing quietly from his radio. you drank in the sight of his jawline as he rolled a toothpick from the diner between his teeth, the way the skin of his neck tightened with each motion, his biceps straining against his cotton tee.

“i love this song,” he murmured, i’m on fire by bruce springsteen playing through his speakers. then, something you thought you’d never see; steve harrington was singing along, low in his chest, his thumb rubbing circles on your thigh. “tell me now, baby, is he good to you?” his eyes darted between you and the road, “can he do to you the things that i do?”

there was the unmistakable warmth of wanting, coiled in your stomach, making you shift in the seat of his beamer. the words, the intimacy of the moment, the rasp of his voice, they all washed over you, settled low between your thighs. finally, when you thought it would never ebb, he pulled off onto a side road, driving to the edge of a steep overlook, his car alone with the trees and grassy knolls. beneath you, hawkins was merely a blur of buildings and streetlights.

“this is beautiful,” you said, in awe.

“you’re beautiful,” he was perhaps even more awestruck than you.

you leaned over the console, kissing him again, so grateful for this moment with him. he was rougher now that you were alone, nipping at your bottom lip, hungry and uncaring if it was too fast. it went on for what felt like hours, the slow drag of his mouth against yours, his hands wandering over your body, not yet daring to sneak beneath your clothes. finally, when the wanting was too much, you were awkwardly fumbling into the backseat, giggling breathlessly as you fell into him.

“can i?” he asked, ever the gentleman as he pulled at the hem of your top, eyes shiny and pleading.

“yes, yes of course,” you nodded quickly, helping him free you from it, then pulling off his own. gradually, between kisses, you managed to shed the rest of your clothes, until you were bare except for your underwear.

“you are so beautiful,” he sounded like he was in pain, almost, or in love. you couldn’t tell in the dark, “let me taste you, please.”

you could’ve died and gone to heaven as he slid to his knees in the floorboard, parting your thighs, pushing your slick underwear aside and burying his face between your legs.

“oh my god, steve,” you gasped, hand migrating to his mess of curls, tugging lightly as he lapped at your core, his nose brushing your clit deliciously. he was like a man possessed, right in his element as he watched your reactions, eyes dark with lust. you were practically grinding against his face, eyes rolled back, back arched off the seat.

“please,” you mewled, “fuck, i’m so close. you’re so good, steve.” he was spurred on by your praise, groaning into you, the sound vibrating against your flushed skin. his tongue dipped into you, and you fell apart all at once, fingers tight in his hair, thighs threatening to clamp closed around him.

“so good,” he exhaled as he pulled away, his lips shiny with your slick, “you taste so fucking good.” he perched back over you, kissing you hard and hot, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. you pulled at him, hands on his shoulders, hungry for more, always more.

“please,” you panted between messy kisses, reaching between your bodies, cupping his bulge, nearly moaning at the size and weight of him, “need you to fuck me.”

“yeah?” he grinned at that, cocky as ever, “i can manage that.” he pulled his boxers off with one hand, his other woven through your hair, pulling your head aside to leave your neck open for him to kiss and bite at. you gasped as you felt his tip against your dripping core, teasing your hole, sliding against your puffy clit.

“you’re so wet, baby,” his voice was deeper, raspier, than before, “i don’t have a condom, ‘s that okay?”

“it’s fine,” you nodded quickly, “on the pill.”

he didn’t need anymore encouragement. with that, he pressed into you, agonizingly slow, stretching your walls further with each inch.

“oh, fuck,” you gripped his shoulders tightly, wincing at the burn of the stretch, “you’re so big.”

“you’re almost there,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead, one hand parting your thighs further, watching as he slid into you.

finally, he bottomed out inside of you, filling you deeper than you ever had been before. you were delirious with the feeling of him, of the way it ached, the way you knew you’d feel him for days after.

“atta girl,” he hissed out, twitching inside you, “can i move now? are you okay?”

“please,” you nodded immediately, “i can take it.” and take it, you did.

he pulled out of you fully before bottoming out once more, stealing all the air from your lungs, drawing a gasp from your lips. one hand made a home on your waist, the other gripping the seat above you, steadying himself effortlessly. you were a mess beneath him in an instant, undoubtedly soaking the car seat beneath you, lewd wet sounds filling the small space.

“you feel so good,” he praised, voice shaking, “fucking perfect, sucking me in. you needed this, didn’t you, baby?”

“mhm!” your jaw was slack as his tip brushed that spot deep within your walls, “needed it so bad, stevie, fuck. you’re so good, so big.”

“knew you did,” he murmured, “did he take care of you? hm? did he take you like this, or could i easily fill his shoes?”

“never like this,” you mewled, “nobody’s ever- nngh, nobody’s felt like this.”

“fuck,” he dropped his head down to kiss you again, messy, spit slicking your chin as he licked into your open mouth greedily. he pounded into you, the car shaking, your thighs trembling right along with it. you squeezed around him as his thumb came down to circle your clit, your back arching from the seat, chest pressing against his.

“come on, baby,” he encouraged, pulling away to kiss your jaw, then trailing down to your throat, “cum on my cock, please? i’m so close, wanna feel you let go.”

“i’m- fuck, oh my god,” you were lost for words, gasping as you came undone, walls spasming around him, shaking in his arms.

“there you go,” he groaned, “oh, fuck, you’re so tight. where d’you want it, baby? hurry.”

“inside,” you whined, hating the idea of him wasting it anywhere else, “it’s okay, please, just want it.”

he kissed you again, slow and tender, as he spilled inside you, warmth flooding your walls, and you shuddered at the feeling, an intimacy you’d never shared even with jonathan.

“my god,” he panted, pulling out slowly, chest heaving, “that was- you’re incredible. you’re okay, right?”

“mhm,” you nodded, blissed out, eyes barely open, but greedily drinking in the sight of him in the afterglow, “perfect, stevie.”

“i like that,” he grinned sheepishly, “stevie. nobody calls me that.”

“that’ll be your new nickname, then,” you murmured fondly, sitting up and wincing at the ache between your thighs, already, “can you help me find my clothes?”

he laughed slightly as he nodded, handing you your ruffled clothes, pulling his own wrinkled tee over his head. after you were both redressed, he just sat there for a moment, looking over at you.

“is this gonna happen again?” he asked softly, almost hesitantly, “or is it over when the breaks over?”

“it was never just going to a break,” you said after a beat, “i’d really like to see you again. maybe not in the back of your car next time, though?”

“i’ll take you wherever you want,” he smiled, “as long as you agree to see me again.”

“you can’t keep me away,” you grinned, leaning over and pressing a kiss to his cheek, “who knew you were such a romantic, stevie?”

“i really think they’re too old for this, stevie,” you kept your voice low, tiptoeing through the quiet house behind your boyfriend, “they know santa isn’t real. i’m sure they know you’re the one doing this.” “shh,” he shushed you, finger pressed to his lips dramatically before continuing into the henderson’s living room, placing three clumsily wrapped gifts beneath their dimly lit tree. it was your last stop of the night. you’d started out at the byers, then the wheelers, then the sinclairs, where max had been staying. finally, you’d left dustin’s gifts, after a long night of sneaking in to houses as if steve thought he was genuinely santa. he helped you quietly escape back out of the house, your hand in his as the two of you crossed the yard, the frozen grass crunching beneath your feet. “this is the last time,” you said pointedly, faux scolding in your tone, “they’ve outgrown this.” “yeah, yeah,” he grumbled, the santa hat you’d placed atop his curls mockingly nearly slipping off his head as a breeze blew, “they’ll probably all go off to college or something next year, anyway. i just wanted to do this one last thing.” “i know,” you frowned slightly at that, slipping your arm beneath his jacket as you walked to the car, rubbing circles onto his back, “they’ll be back for the holidays, stevie. you’re not losing them forever.” “feels like it, sometimes,” you knew he meant it, “i’m happy for ‘em and all that. i just wanna be able to look after them. and before you say it, i know they know it’s me doing it, obviously they don’t believe in santa anymore. they’ve just been through so much, i’m trying to do what i can to remind them they’re still kids.”

“just don’t stress too much over it, that’s all i ask,” you said as you slid into the passenger seat, steve’s arm propping the door open. “yes ma’am,” he teased, making sure your legs were in before closing the door, practically skipping over to his side and getting in beside you. the drive home was quiet, music playing softly from the speakers, steve’s f fingers tapping absentmindedly along to the beat against the steering wheel. you watched him, sleepy and dazed, admiring the way the soft light of the street lamps cast shadows onto his face, the way his throat bobbed as he swallowed, the scar on his neck rippling with the movement. sometime on your very short commute, you fell asleep, your head pressed to the cool, icy window. you woke to steve’s arms around you, bundling you up against his chest as he carried you into the house, his steps careful and every movement calculated to avoid disturbing you. “my hero,” you murmured, smiling as you nuzzled into his chest. “you just looked so pretty, couldn’t bring myself to wake you up,” his voice rumbled against your ear, and then he was gently setting you into bed, disappearing only to lock the front door before returning to your side, gentle hands unlacing your shoes, letting them fall to the floor with a quiet thump. you nuzzled into the pillow as his fingers slid down your thermal leggings, leaving a trail of goosebumps in the wake of his movements. next, he carefully lifted your back from the mattress just enough to pull the sweater you’d stolen from his side of the closet up over your head, careful not to catch on your earrings. you shivered slightly in the cool air of your bedroom, your bare skin pebbled with bumps. he unclasped your bra with slightly uncoordinated fingers, a motion he never got quite used to, sliding the straps from your shoulders, a quiet, involuntary sound leaving his throat at the sight of your bare chest. you shivered again, and he forced himself to focus, shaking his head as if to shake the thoughts away. “i’ll be right back, baby,” he promised, pulling the blanket over you, pressing a kiss to the side of your head.

you started to doze again, but he returned quickly, his outfit traded for only boxers. in his hand was a fresh, oversized shirt, the print from his graduation year worn and faded from the wash. “sit up for me, angel,” he murmured, helping you up, guiding your arms through the shirt holes and smoothing it out over your frame. “there we go,” he settled into bed beside you, his hand curled against your hip, “that better?” “mm,” you hummed, leaning into him, the unmissable pulse of need throbbing between your thighs, “you take such good care of me, stevie.” “that’s my job,” you could hear the smile in his voice, “gotta take care of my girl.” he ran his fingers lazily through your hair, content to ignore his own needs, though it was painfully evident that the tent in his boxers wasn’t going down anytime soon. his fingers eventually left your hair, trailing down your shoulders, then your back, gentle and comforting. “i love you,” you murmured, half asleep, warm and fuzzy from his affection. “i love you more,” he half yawned, trying desperately to will away the desperate wanting, “you can get some sleep, baby. i know you’re tired.” “can’t sleep,” you huffed, fingers trailing to his waist, your hand smoothing over his stomach, then further down, brushing his now-aching bulge. “oh, baby,” his hips jerked involuntarily at the unexpected contact, his entire body shuddering, “it’s okay, you’re tired, i’m just waiting on it to go down.” you just shook your head, your free hand taking his, guiding it down to the slick mess between your thighs, your cotton underwear stuck to your throbbing cunt. “oh,” he exhaled shakily, fingers pressing to your clit gently, “that’s- fuck. what’s got you so worked up, sweet girl?” “i just love when you’re gentle with me,” you whispered, hand creeping beneath his boxers now, taking his heavy length into your palm. “and here i thought you liked it rough,” he teased, voice raspy as you languidly stroked his cock. the pad of his middle finger traced circles onto your clit slowly, pulling a quiet mewl from your lips. “oh, stevie,” you moaned breathlessly, clenching around nothing, hungry for his fingers.

“i’ve got you, baby,” he rasped, lips brushing your cheek as he thrusted up into your hand, thighs tense, his fingers slowly dipping into your dripping hole. you gasped softly, eyes rolled back as he expertly worked you open, treating you only the way steve could. your thumb rubbed over his tip, collecting the bead of moisture and dragging it back down his length, your hand gliding along his flushed skin. your movements were slow, not rushed or frantic, just sleepy and soft, gentle and warm. “can i- god, baby, can i have you? i’ll be gentle.” you nodded, despite your still present exhaustion, letting him roll you on your side, your panties pushed to the side as his fingers continued to pump inside you. your thighs were shaking by the time he finally lined up behind you, his chest warm against your back, his cock brushing your folds. he pushed into you in one slow, deep thrust, his hands settled around your middle, holding you tight. “oh, steve,” you breathed, head fuzzy with the weight of him inside you. “that’s right, baby, takin me so good,” he praised, pressing a kiss to your shoulder, resting his head against you. both of you were a mess of quiet moans and pants, his thrusts slow and steady, almost lazy in pace. the hand splayed against your stomach eventually slid between your thighs, pressing against your clit as he rocked in and out of you, the added stimulation leaving you whining and clenching tight around him. “so sweet,” he murmured, “such a good girl. love you so much.” “mmph, love you more, stevie,” you stammered, painfully close to the edge. he paced his fingers just right, and you were falling right over, moaning his name shamelessly as you shook in his arms. he buried his face in your neck as his thrusts sped up, growing slightly sloppy. “fuck, yeah, that’s it,” he panted, gripping your hips tightly as he came, leaving you warm and dripping around him. he started to pull out, but you shook your head in protest, grabbing at his arm. “stay like this,” you murmured, leaning back into him, “just for a little while.”

he fell asleep still pressed inside you, his arm tight around your stomach, holding you securely through the night. he woke with the first morning light, ever so careful as he pulled out of you, sneaking as quietly as he could to put on his flannel pajama pants and going to put on a pot of coffee. he stumbled on the santa hat you’d placed on his head the night before, smiling to himself as he pulled it down over his messy hair, grabbing supplies from the closet and placing everything quietly. when he finished, he stepped back, admiring his work. “marry me?” was spelled out on the floor beside the tree, the words formed from plastic mistletoe you’d bought at the craft store in town weeks before. he poured two mugs of coffee, hoping the smell would lure you out of sleep like it usually did. his hands shook as he collected the ring box from his underwear drawer, and he sat beside his work, waiting patiently for the inevitable quiet yawn and request for coffee from the bed. only minutes later, you emerged from the bedroom, hair a mess and his shirt still swallowing your frame. you stopped in your tracks the moment you saw him, brows drawn as you rubbed your eyes. “what’re you doing in here-“ you stopped in your tracks the moment your eyes focused on the mistletoe lettering, your hand clapping over your mouth. “steve, i- what is this?” you managed, eyes welled with tears. he got to one knee, trembling hands managing to pull the ring box from his pajama pocket, propping it open. “i’ve been in love with you since we were in high school,” he started, the words he’d messily scrawled onto scrap paper burned into his mind. he’d practiced this speech with dustin, embarrassingly, but nothing compared to the real thing. “we’ve had so many incredible years together, and there’s no one i’d rather have spent them with. you stuck by my side when i told you the world was ending, fought by my side in the upside down when it wasn’t your war to fight, cleaned my wounds when i got a little too bold. you’ve been by my side through it all, and i’m so grateful for that. i love you more than i could ever tell you, baby, but i hope this does it some justice. will you marry me?”

“oh my god, steve,” you nodded so quickly he almost didn’t process it, nearly collapsing in front of him on the floor, throwing your arms around his neck and burying your face in the crook of his shoulder. he caught you with a huffed laugh, his shaking hands warm on your back, “you’re killing me here, sweetheart. is that a yes?” “of course!” you sat back to beam up at him, cheeks streaked with tears, “of course i’ll marry you, you idiot. i love you so much.” “i love you even more,” he felt like he could finally breathe again, his hands much more steady as he pulled the ring from its box, sliding it clumsily onto your finger. “it’s so beautiful,” you exhaled, admiring the way the light caught the stone, “thank you, stevie, really. this is- i don’t even know what to say.” “i’m just glad you said yes,” he joked, pulling you back in to hug you tightly, kissing the top of your head. “i’d say yes in any lifetime,” you murmured, tilting your head up to kiss him tenderly. he smiled against your lips, resting his forehead against yours. “i can’t believe it. i’m the luckiest man in hawkins,” he grinned, “no, the world. the luckiest man on earth.” “i cant wait for you to be my husband,” you blinked back another wave of happy tears, pressing your lips to his once more. hours later, when the coffee was drank dry and you’d had plenty of time to stare at your ring, the phone rang from the wall of the dining room, cutting into your blissful bubble. steve answered it, leaning against the doorframe as he did, twirling the cord around his fingers. “i know it was you, steve,” dustin’s voice cracked through the receptor. “henderson? what are you talking about?” steve feigned ignorance, grinning at you from across the room. “the gifts. from ‘santa’, really? i’m not 10 years old.” “whatever, man. you’ve lost it,” steve laughed. “my mom invited you over. you two can come for dinner,” dustin said, clearly not buying it, “see you soon, ‘santa’.” “yeah, alright, kid. see you soon,” steve returned to your side in an instant, covering you in kisses as you squealed with laughter, face red. “let’s get ready, my fiancé,” he grinned, helping you off the couch, leading you to the closet, “i hope you’ll be my alibi for last night.” “not a chance,” you teased, “i’m not a liar.” he swatted your arm, and you shrieked out a laugh as you darted across the house, locking the bathroom door behind you. “i’ll come out when you can behave!” you called through the door, grinning ear to ear. “you wound me!” he called back, stomping away, and you smiled so hard it hurt the entire time you got dressed.