vanessa

You and Steve have been steadily cleaning the thing out during shifts like these all summer. (And then guiltily re-filling it so you'd have something to give the kids who come in every now and then.) However, since you hadn't had a chance to buy more after your recent attack on the thing, you thought it was empty.

But there, at the very bottom, sits one lonely lollipop.

You risk a glance back at Steve, but his eyes are already pinned to the candy. You look at each other, then the jar, then each other again. 

And you both lunge in unison. 

His shoulder bumps yours, but your elbow digs into his ribs, forcing a grunt from him. His fingers are longer, so he reaches it first, but you pin his wrist against the cool glass with your own and pry it out of his hand. 

“Goddamn it,” he mutters when your fingers close around the candy. “It’s a mystery flavor one, too!”

You grin triumphantly and pull out your prize. “Nice try. Sucker.”

“You’re not funny.” He settles back against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest and frowning as you unwrap the lollipop. “Technically, I touched it first.”

“Well, technically...that doesn’t matter.” You brandish the stick, then pop the candy in your mouth. “ ‘Cause look whose mouth it’s in.” 

And he does. Look at your mouth, that is. You try to ignore the swoop in your stomach as the afternoon light catches in his mussed hair, making it look as soft as warm caramel.

“You know,” he says slowly, “we could call it even and just…share.”

You snort. “Share? You can’t share a lollipop, are you insane?”

“Why not? 

“It's juss—” You take the sucker out of your mouth to speak clearly. “Like…purposely swapping spit?”

He shrugs. “What’s wrong with swapping spit? You drink out of my water bottle all the time.” Steve’s eyes flick to yours. “It’s not any different than making out.”

Oh. 

How can he just…say shit like that?

As if kissing your coworker is a perfectly normal thought to have. Of course, it is a frequent thought for you. Okay, more like an all-consuming one, but—whatever. 

“At least tell me what flavor it is," he begs, taking a step towards you.

You hum, squinting up at him and twirling the candy in your mouth teasingly. “Kind of like strawberry, but less sour? Too tart for watermelon. I don't know, but it’s soooo good.”

His gaze drops to your lips. “You’re doing this on purpose.”

“What? Flaunting my win?” you say, voice full of false innocence. “I would never!”

He huffs a laugh, then his hand finds the counter behind you with a smack. Your vision fills with broad chest, and he presses you back against the ledge, so close that you have to tip your head up to look at him. 

“Careful,” he says. “I might have to revoke your water bottle privileges.”

You roll your eyes, then pull the lollipop out again. “Fine, Harrington. You want a taste that bad?”

His eyes drop to your lips. “So bad.”

You hold the candy up between you, but when he reaches for it, you snatch it back at the last second. 

He swallows hard as you slip it back into your mouth, twirling your tongue around the hard sugar and blinking up at him from under your lashes. 

When it clicks against your teeth, his eyes darken.

Suddenly, Steve grabs the sucker’s stick and pulls it from your mouth, and you’re not really sure who moves first, but a second later…his lips are on yours. 

Your breath hitches as his tongue presses against the seam of your lips, then dips inside, tasting the sweetness there, and—God, it’s everything you dreamed of.

Steve groans softly, his exhale hot against your cheek as his fingers spread over your lower back to pull you closer, making your vest whisper against his. Your hands fly to his shirt, gripping the fabric for support as the carpet beneath your feet seems to tilt. 

You could kiss him like this forever, actually. It’s syrupy sweet, the sugar on your tongue melting with the taste of him and creating this intoxicating, addictive—

Just then, the bell over the door chimes. 

You break apart instantly, chests heaving. Steve chuckles as your hands fly to your flaming cheeks, and you whip around, putting on your best customer service face for whoever just walked in.

The sucker lies forgotten on the countertop. Something for you to clean up later.

 “Oh, and by the way,” he whispers over your shoulder before turning back to the register. “It’s cherry.”