#spidey steve

Surprisingly, the patrol had been pretty chill for a friday night. There was one armed robbery earlier, a couple pick pockets here and there and one very stubborn cat on top of a tree. The movement was so slow that Steve gave Dustin the night off. Not that he had that kind of authority, if anything, it was otherwise, with the boy, now a college freshman, being Steve’s self proclaimed guy in a chair. 

It was good for Dustin to go out there every once in a while, doing whatever nerdy college guys were doing on a friday night. Robin, though, didn’t need any incentive to take a night off and go drinking with her girlfriend, Vicky, and friends. Steve missed going out with them, or doing anything that didn’t involve wearing his very tight costume. He was in a desperate need of a new one. 

Steve decided to head towards Brooklyn, where his friends were reunited. He would do this every now and then, checking on everyone as they headed home, especially when there was drinking involved. 

As he got closer to the bar Robin mentioned, he was able to sense a few people from their group: Robin and Vicky dancing, Eddie and Gareth higher than the clouds checking girls out, and Nancy and Jonathan making out in the bathroom. Ugh, he hated that. His powers were useful and sometimes, even funny to use, but there was also that very inconvenient side. 

He tried concentrating on the surroundings to tune them out.  

“Yo, Spidey! You’re a guy, right?”

Steve thanked the universe for his coordination skills, because dear God, you scared the shit out of him, he almost fell from the side of the building next to the bar where he was stationed at.

Wait, why were you outside instead of hanging out with your friends inside?

“Because everyone is in a fucking couple!”

Steve had no idea he said that out loud. He got down from the building, walking slowly towards you, trying not to freak you out. That was something that happened with a certain frequency.  

“Shit, why am I screaming?”, you whispered to yourself, trying to control the volume of your voice. Steve tried not to laugh, you clearly had more than your normal quota of alcohol for the night.

“Are you okay?”

“You’re a guy, right?”, you asked at the same time.

Steve stopped, one hand on his waist, the other scratching his cap. His poor hair was suffocating inside it. 

“I mean, yeah. That's why they call me Spider-Man.”

“Huh”, you hold your purse closer to your body. “I’m so stupid!”

This time, Steve couldn’t hold the laughter. You couldn’t be farther from the truth: you were the smartest person he knew besides your own brother. But Dustin was a special case, you actually worked extremely hard to get good grades and do well academically. Graduated college with honours and all. 

“No no, you’re good”, Steve tried to intervene. “But I am, uh, indeed a man.”

“You sound more like a guy than a man”, you looked at him suspiciously. 

“Hey, I’m very manly, ok?” 

You laughed with your whole body, dominating Steve’s spidey senses, giving him full body chills. He guessed it was probably because he hadn’t seen you in weeks, there was barely any time in the day for him to rest, let alone socialize. Still, he was glad Dustin wasn’t monitoring this whole exchange with his older sister. Steve would never hear the end of it.

“But why do you ask?”

As you recovered from the laugh, your expression saddened. 

“Well, I need some advice in that department.”

Steve’s goggles betrayed him, going up in surprise like his eyebrows did. He had never thought much about it, just assumed you were always studying, but he hadn’t seen you with a guy before. It’s when he realized the meaning of what you said earlier: “Everyone is in a fucking couple!”. 

“Okay, yeah, sure. I’m a guy.”

“That has been established”, you laughed quietly. “It’s just…if you have tried everything to be noticed by a guy and he never has, does it mean he is not interested or just really oblivious?”

“I think you know the answer to that.”

You smiled sadly. 

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

“For what is worth, you deserve better than that”, said Steve. It sounded like the right thing to say. He just hated seeing people he cared about so sad. “This guy must be a real jerk.”

“No”, you said desperately. “He is…everything.”

That caught Steve out of surprise. But your mind seemed to be elsewhere. 

“How can I get over him, Spidey?”

Steve crossed his arms, trying to keep his composure. You looked at him like he might have all the answers to your problems and that had him panicking a bit. This was way above his paygrade. You were friends, sure, but never talked about your respective love lives. Your friendship started with being his best friend’s sister and ended with the two of you being in the same friend group. Dustin and Robin, and now, Spider-Man, demanded too much for him to consider deepening other friendships. 

“I dunno, I mean… You should try dating other guys”, Steve wasn’t entirely satisfied with his advice, but that was the best he could do under pressure. 

“Yeah, well, they might just not like me either.” 

“Change your approach”, said Steve, nervously. Even in your drunken state, he could tell you were paying close attention to what he was saying. “Maybe go for a totally different type of guy, do the opposite of what you did this time around.”

You gave that some thought.

“I guess I have nothing more to…”

And you threw up. Steve guided you towards a trash can. With one hand, he held your hair, while with the other he got his phone and texted Robin for help. 

Eddie rolled around and felt the floor disappear from under him as he fell down. 

"Ouch," he grumbled, and was grateful that his voice seemed to work despite everything. 

"Shit. You okay?" There were shuffling sounds and then footsteps approaching until a lean figure stood over him, a frown between his eyes. "Eddie?" 

He groaned and rolled again, finding all the pain he was feeling was gone as if it had never existed. 

"I think so? What... what happened?" 

There was more shuffling, and then he was getting hauled up and put back down into something soft. A... mattress? 

"Where am I?" Eddie asked just as the room got flooded by the bright yellow light of a lamp. He focused his eyes back on the person who had just manhandled him. "Steve Harrington?" 

"Shit," Steve muttered. He grabbed a glass of water from the bedside table and offered it to Eddie, who greedily downed it all in one gulp. "Hey. Uh... Nice to see you, neighbor." 

Neighbor?

Eddie raked his brain to try and figure things out, but his mind was still a little hazy from the... nightmare. Right. He had a nightmare about the worst day of his life. The day his ship exploded and he caught on fire. The day he kept burning for almost 24 hours straight, not knowing how to stop. 

He had been getting these nightmares almost every night for the past two months. It had gotten so bad that he had made up a shitty excuse to move out of Baxter Building and away from the prying eyes of his family. He didn't want them worrying about him. 

That still didn't explain why Steve Harrington was standing in his room. 

"I think you were having a–" 

"Nightmare, yeah," Eddie finished Steve's sentence. "How did you–" 

"Get in? Your door was unlocked." 

Eddie frowned at him right as a light breeze made him look at the window. His open bedroom window. Eddie ran hot, especially when he was sleeping. 

"You mean window?" Eddie said, and from the guilty look in Steve's eyes, he was right. "You usually break into stranger's apartment in the middle of the night?" 

"You're... not a stranger. Uh, I mean, you're famous." 

"So are you, Steve Harrington. Photographer with the Daily Bugle, yeah? Never managed to get one single good shot of me, I believe." 

Steve shifted on his feet, clearly bothered, which made Eddie smile. 

"Still doesn't explain why you're in my apartment," Eddie said, crossing his arms. 

"I told you. You were having a nightmare," Steve said, and maybe Eddie knew this guy for all of five minutes, but he could already tell he was lying from the way his eyes moved away from Eddie as he said it. 

"I know I was having a nightmare. Question is: How did you know I was having a nightmare before entering my room? Or were you planning on robbing me or something?" 

Steve laughed uncomfortably, shaking his head. "I don't know, man. You were being pretty loud." 

"I was being pretty loud? Excuse you. This is a shitty apartment complex, but New York is a pretty loud city even at night, so for someone to hear me in my sleep, the person would need to have superhear–" 

As the truth dawned on Eddie, Steve just stood there, blinking at him with an expression that told Eddie he was considering throwing himself out of the window. 

Like a mature person, he threw the empty glass right at Steve, who yelped right before catching it quickly. Too quickly for a normal human being. 

"That would definitely explain why you're the only photographer in town who manages to get so many good photos of Spider-Man," Eddie said, ignoring Steve's outraged expression. 

Leave it to him to try to escape his family, just to end up crawling into his cute neighbor literal spider-web. 

Keys takes his neatly folded stacks of clothes out of his suitcase and places them in color-coordinated piles in his dresser drawers.

The electronic lock on the dorm room door before it's carelessly swung open, the curved handle clanging against the white brick inside the room.

"Hey, roomie! What's up, I'm Steve. Steve Harrington."

Keys turns and pushes his glasses further up the bridge of his nose, smiling politely with pursed lips. He takes Steve's outstretched hand in his and gives it two firm shakes, looking his roommate over with a scrutinizing gaze.

Steve's got on a snug-fitting striped polo tucked into even snugger-fitting light wash denim jeans. He lifts his sunglasses up onto his head, raking his glorious, tousled mane back away from his face. He had kind eyes and a wide smile, although he was smacking his fruity-smelling gum quite loudly which already grated Keys' nerves.

"Hey, cool to meet you. I'm Keys."

"Keys, hm? You were meant to be at MIT with that name, huh?"

"Well, beats Walter. I was captain of the Computer Science Club in high school, last name's McKey, had some clever friends so -- Keys." He holds out his hands demonstratively, fingers spread wide and jazzy. Steve laughs and nods right along.

"I like it, man. Wish I had friends that clever, best I got was like...dingus? Butthead?"

"I can call you Butthead, if that makes you more comfortable."

Steve lets out another bright laugh, and Keys finds himself chucking right along with him. The new roommate chucks his duffel bag onto the blank bed opposite Keys' neatly made one and starts rifling through it, tossing clothes in haphazard piles of shirts, pants, socks, and underwear. Keys cringes at the wrinkled destruction, but says nothing and just continues to put his own crisp wardrobe away.

"So, uh, I know we all kinda start out undeclared, but you know what you're going for, major-wise?" Steve asks over his shoulder, quickly folding his rumpled clothing into semi-thoughtful stacks to put away as well.

"Yeah, actually. Still the computer guy, so I'm going for my BS in AI and Decision Making, then I'll probably apply for my PhD in Computational Science and Engineering. You?"

Keys turns when Steve doesn't respond straight away and finds him slowly blinking, lips slightly parted in awe.

"Holy shit, dude. That's seriously impressive."

Keys feels the heat rising in his cheeks as he waves him off.

"Just sticking with what I already know. What about you? Know what you're going for yet?"

Steve shrugs, turning down his mouth in an exaggerated trout-like frown. "I think so, but I'm open to having my mind changed. Was thinking of either going for their Architecture program, or maybe a Humanities-Engineering major. Minor in Women's Studies either way, probably."

Now Steve finds that Keys is the one staring, slightly dumbstruck.

"Women's Studies? Any particular reason for that one?"

"I...love women." Steve smirks and Keys laughs under his breath, shaking his head.

"Can't argue there, I guess."

🕸️

"What do you mean, I can't switch it? I didn't sign up for it!" You growl at the admissions assistant, even though you're fairly certain they're just a student (like you), and don't get paid nearly enough to deal with this shit.

"Sorry, ma'am. The Wednesday morning class is full, there is only room for the Thursday afternoon."

"But I literally can't have class on Thursdays, do you get what I'm saying? I got an internship that was almost impossible to score, and it's Thursday through Saturday. I worked with the admissions people for weeks to make sure I had all my classes on Monday through Wednesday, I even got a professor to host a virtual Sunday lecture this semester because he owed my dad a favor. If I get put in this Thursday class, I'm completely cooked. Everyone's time is wasted, and I lose my internship."

Judging by the panic-stricken look on their face, you can glean what their answer is going to be; it's like they're scared you'll drag them out of the building by their ears, howling and screaming, when they inevitably say it. You put your elbows on the counter and your face in your hands, feeling the numbness wash over you.

"Ma'am..."

Your internship, ruined. The one you'd busted your ass to score an interview for, and then subsequently nailed. The Cambridge Courier had never taken on a Jr. Reporter in their freshman year, but they were so taken with your writing samples and stellar references that you'd gotten it anyway (with the caveat that you could be there Thursday, Friday, and Saturday each week).

A voice behind you, rich and sweet, like an angel (but moreso the latter because of what he says).

"Oh, hey. I'm in the Wednesday class for that. I can swap you if you need."

You spin around, fighting the urge to pull this wonderful human being into a bear hug and kiss him square on the mouth just for offering. Then, when you actually get a look at him...well, it's even harder to resist that temptation.

He's a total babe. Tall, a great head of carelessly ruffled hair that probably took a lot more time than you'd realize to look that effortless, freckles on his cheeks and neck that get lost in a thick thatch of chest hair peeking out from the deep v-neck t-shirt, and the sweetest, kindest set of hazel-brown eyes you've ever seen.

"Are you serious? Oh my god, you'd be a lifesaver, I'd owe you my life."

He holds his hands up and shakes his head, his smile growing wider and showing off two rows of straight, white teeth. The corners of his eyes crinkle with delight.

"No way! Don't want that, I'm happy to help. I'm Steve."

You tell him your name and give his hand a firm shake, noticing immediately how his engulfs yours almost completely, and that makes your knees weak.

"You'll both need to submit a request to the admissions office for a class swap, but it should be done within 48 hours." The student behind the counter tentatively adds with a shy smile.

You nod at them once in understanding and beam up at Steve.

"C'mon, we can go set up the transfer on my computer. I owe you a coffee, Steve."

🕸️

"So, why are you in an Intro to Women's Studies class anyway, if you don't mind me asking?" You sit across from Steve at a picnic table in the campus commons, sipping on a frothy frappe with a decadent caramel sauce drizzled over the top.

"It's my minor. Still deciding on my major, but I do know I wanted that for sure. I dunno, I guess I'd just like to know what I can do to help people that need it most. Thought it might help me have a little more perspective in whatever I do, other than just my own?"

You nod, impressed. "I can appreciate that, Steve. I'm majoring in Writing, I'm gonna be a journalist some day. I wanted the minor to have a better understanding of the things I want to write about, who I'm writing it for, all that stuff."

"Very respectable." He agrees, holding his coffee up in a cheers to you. You click your plastic cup against his cardboard one, and both of you giggle softly while sipping your drinks. You catch a glimpse of the time on your wristwatch.

"Oh, shit, I have to get to the library. There's a seminar I needed to listen to for next week." You throw your things in your bag and start to stand, Steve getting ready to go too, just at a much more leisurely pace. "Hey, um...we'll probably have lots of the same classes, if we're getting the same minor. Would you, like...I don't know, would you wanna be study partners? I could give you my number, and if you ever needed to chat about lectures, or whatever..."

"Yeah, that sounds great. Awesome, actually, I'll need all the help I can get."

You both laugh brightly and you put your number in Steve's phone. He texts you immediately with this GIF:

So without hesitation, you bite your lower lip and find this one to send back:

He grins even harder, and you give him a little wave over your shoulder.

"Later, Tiger."

🕸️

The seminar was on Artificial Intelligence in the Ever-Evolving World, and lots of MIT professors and students would be presenting their work. The Courier wanted you to attend and cover it for your first piece that would be in the Saturday edition of the paper next week.

Your heart swells with pride when you sign in and they have a press badge for you. A press badge.

You wander around the space taking photos and scratching down notes about various exhibits as graduate students speak about their different thesis projects.

After half an hour or so, they announce that the seminar would be starting in the next few minutes. You make your way inside and take an aisle seat towards the front, not wanting to miss out on any important information for your article. Not thinking, you set your messenger bag down on the empty seat next you.

A few moments later, while you were busy scribbling questions down that you'd like answered, you felt a tap on your shoulder. You turn, immediately worried that you may be concussed.

Another tall, dark, and handsome babe talking to me in one day? Did I die?

This guy was equally as handsome as Steve, although he puts off a completely different vibe. Where Steve is carefree and laid-back (even slightly goofy), this guy was straight-laced and buttoned-up. If Steve were Technicolor, this guy was monochrome, but not in a bad way really.

His aura was soothing, confident, and relaxed. He wore glasses, but you could see that his eyes were hazel too, though with a bit more green to them than Steve's. He was in a collared shirt with a sweater over-top and khaki slacks, and the slightest cordial smile on his face.

"Hey, sorry, do you mind if I sit here? It's starting to fill up..."

You glance down and scramble to shove your bag carelessly under your seat, babbling apologies under your breath before glancing up at him with your own warm, inviting smile and patting the now-empty chair.

He settles into it and pulls out his tablet for taking notes. You glance at it enviously, feeling a little silly for bringing pen and paper to a seminar about AI and technological advances. Rookie move.

"My name is Keys, by the way." He leans over and extends a hand to shake yours. You take it and introduce yourself, trying not to seem overly eager.

"I'm a Writing major, and a Jr. Reporter for the Courier. My first big project is on this seminar, so I'm really excited to hear what they have to say."

Keys raises his eyebrows; they disappear briefly behind the hair falling over his forehead.

"That's really cool, I didn't realize this stuff would be of any interest to the press. I'd be happy to like, give you an interview after, if you like."

You scrunch up your face in confusion.

"An interview? Are you --"

"Walter, there you are! C'mon up, we're gonna get started."

He rubs the thighs of his slacks and smiles at you, shuffling by. He glances down one last time, and adds, "I'm the keynote speaker for the freshman AI Engineering Club. If you do wanna chat, come find me after this thing's over. This uh -- this offer's just for you, yeah? Don't bring a whole crowd with you, if you do come."

All you can manage is a slack-jawed nod, and he gives you a wink before walking casually up to the stage, hands in his pockets.

He delivers an incredible seminar, speaking confidently and clearly about what advances in artificial intelligence can do for the world and how it will change the future. By the end, people are standing in applause, camera lights flashing brightly across the room.

You snap a few pictures of Keys standing before the crowd, softly smiling like it was nothing out of the ordinary (maybe for someone as brilliant as him, it wasn't).

You indeed found him after the seminar, and both of you spoke for hours on what him and his teammates have been studying and developing in the AI labs here at MIT (to a degree...a lot of it was pretty confidential, actually).

You spoke your opinions on AI freely, never once feeling judged or undervalued in the conversation. Keys answered your questions thoughtfully and nodded along as you spoke, listening so intently it made you feel flushed at times.

As the evening wound down, he offered to walk you home. Both of you kept talking the entire way, no longer just about the seminar and your arm looped through his bent one.

"Okie doke, this is me." You tell him as you reach the girl's dorm.

You reluctantly slide your arm from his and suddenly, despite how easily the conversation has been flowing all evening, the air suddenly feels awkward now.

"Why does this happen?" He asks. You tilt your head in a silent question, waiting for him to continue. "Why do goodbyes always make things weird?"

It's like he read your mind. You laugh, and he quickly joins you. You hold your hand out, palm-up, and he puts his hand on top of it without a second thought.

"No, your phone, weirdo. I'm gonna give you my number. So we can...chat."

"Ah. Yeah, that makes a lot more sense."

You type your number in, questioning reality because this is the second time you were giving a hot guy your number today, and hand it back. He reads over your name once reverently, then slides the phone in his back pocket.

"Was really great to meet you. Have a great night." He says, body language leaning into you.

"It really was. Thanks, Keys. G'night."

You make it up the stairs to the third floor and walk straight into your room. Since you had a demanding work/school schedule (and a dad that managed to pull a few strings), you had special accommodations to have a single room on the corner of the floor.

You set your bag on the small twin bed in the room and start to pull off your heels, when your text notification chimes. It's from an unsaved number.

Goodnight again, gorgeous

You grin cheesily to yourself, biting down on the tip of your thumb and replying:

I sure hope this is Keys, otherwise I'm changing my number.

Shit yeah this is Keys.

Sorry.

No problem. And goodnight to you too, handsome. 💋

🕸️

When Keys swipes his card to get back into the dorm room, Steve is still wide awake and playing computer games with his feet propped up on the desk. He pulls his headphones off, and they've left a hilariously obvious indention in his voluminous hair. His smile is directed at Keys, though his eyes don't leave the screen and his thumbs keep working the joysticks.

"Hey man! How'd it go?"

"Good... Really good, actually." Keys bites his lower lip, brows furrowed in thought. Steve's eyes flicker to his roommate just standing there frozen in thought, so he pauses his game.

"You good?"

Keys didn't really have a ton of guy friends he could gush about girls and the like with. His buddies from computer club definitely weren't the biggest womanizers (and frankly neither was he), but he figured now was his chance to make one. Steve was nice enough, and they were going to be living together for at least a year, so...screw it.

"Yeah, man. I, uh...I met a girl there, actually. She was really cool. Super smart, we talked for like, hours."

Steve's brows nearly shoot off the crown of his head, and he throws his headphones off completely, leaning forward with intensified interest.

"Yeah?? Was she...y'know...hot?"

"Women's Studies, huh?"

"I have a deep respect for women and other marginalized communities. Now, was this girl hot?"

Keys chuckles and nods, conceding. "Yeah, dude. Really hot."

"Nice. You know, that's so funny...I actually met a super cute girl today too, I switched one of her classes for her to be about to go to her internship. I think we really hit it off actually, got her number."

"I got this girl's number too!"

Steve holds his first up for a friendly knuckle bump, and Keys obliges.

"Bro, how cool is this? What if we both met our dream girls today, and we can all like, hang out and get through this shit together? Two power couples!"

"Alright, getting a little ahead of yourself, Harrington. Maybe let's take our girls on a real date first, then we'll talk about campus domination."

"Deal."

Keys drags his sweater over his head, and though he knows Steve was most likely joking with his outrageous fantasy, he can't deny that he likes the idea of a close knit group of friends.

A girlfriend.

A family -- something he never really had much of before.

Steve really likes Keys, too. He does feel bad, because no matter how close they become as friends, he'll always have one secret he'll have to keep from him. A huge one.

Hell, he'll have to keep it from any friends, girlfriends, too; no matter how close he ends up getting to someone, in this one aspect he will always have to remain distant.

Suddenly the Spiderman costume tucked under his mattress feels glaringly obvious, and when Keys' back is turned to grab his shower bag from the back of the closet, Steve has to take a quick peek to ensure that it's still well hidden and not poking out anywhere.

That would really suck.