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daddystevee · 3 years ago

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sometimes it's just you

a sweet, small fic about you and steve having bad weeks and making it better for each other w sweetness and fluff for the @spiderrrling and @uglypastels writing challenge! I used the line: “If you cry, I’ll end up crying and that won’t be fun for anyone.” | 2.3k, fluff, fem!reader, steve being sweet <3

One bad day is bearable. It's bound to happen to everyone. A second is unfortunate but nothing to cry about. But by your fifth awful, horrible, dragging day, you're fed up. Your mom seems to yell at you for everything, you keep messing up at your job, your Walkman broke, and you're just not feeling like yourself. You can't sleep because your mind is going a mile a minute and everything seems wrong. The pit in your stomach won't fade and you feel so lonely but don't want to bother anyone since you can't seem to string two decent sentences together.

You snapped at Dustin yesterday when he came into the bookstore to say hi. Dustin. You called him to apologize and you were so desperate on the phone that he sounded absolutely bewildered and worried, asking if you were okay and if he needed to call Steve.

And okay, maybe that's part of the problem. Steve is out of town for the week and it just feels like another thing the universe has piled onto you. He's on vacation with his parents for once to see relatives in Ohio and he told you he wasn't sure he'd be able to call. But after the miserable week you've had a sour part of you is glad that he's gone because you know you're no fun like this. But a bigger part of you misses him and wonders if he'd be able to make you feel better.

Today is the day he's supposed to come home so you sprawl on your back in your yard wishing your Walkman wasn't broken and wait for him to call. He'll call, right? Maybe he'll be too tired. Or maybe he wants you to call him. The thought has you rubbing your eyes and willing yourself to get up and go inside. You don't normally feel this insecure when it comes to Steve -- he's lovely and attentive and even when you fight he makes sure you know that he cares about you.

"Excuse me, have you seen a pretty girl anywhere?" For a few slow seconds you think you dreamed him up, a figment of your imagination to make yourself feel better. But then you sit up and see him backlit by the late summer sun and sure enough, it's Steve. The pit in your stomach starts to loosen but your body still feels heavy and your nose tingles like tears aren't far away.

"Steve!" You say his name louder than you've said anything in days.

"Well, look at that," he smirks. "There she is!" He looks the kind of tired that you've learned to look for on him since he tries to hide it -- his beautiful eyes a little dull and sunken and his shoulders in a rigid line. A week with his parents must have been grueling. What a messy pair you make. You start to stand, your fingertips itching to touch him, but he waves you away.

"Nah, don't get up on my account." He spins his car keys on his index finger a few times as he looks down at you. It's like he's deciding something, checking you over for signs of wear and tear before he sits down on the blanket next to you. He's in your space so suddenly that your breach hitches as he presses your thighs together.

"Hi," you say, much softer than your initial greeting. He smiles and you take inventory of the familiar planes of his face: his eyebrows, long lashes framing warm but tired eyes, moles you've touched and tasted. He's so pretty it makes you ache. "I missed you."

"Don't let me go on family vacation ever again," he mutters. "Not worth it." He reaches up slowly to brush his fingers across your cheek, giving you time to pull away. Steve doesn't think much of himself -- something you've fought about before -- but he does know he's pretty good at reading you and he can tell that something is up. That you're both a little off. But you lean into his hand and he must take it as a good sign because he leans in to kiss you softer than you'd expect for a week apart.

It's the kind of kiss that has come with time. It's a hello kiss, not without heat, but more like sliding back into the familiar. Sliding back into comfort, back into the place you want to be most. It's I missed you and I love you and I'm glad to be back. He nibbles on your bottom lip before trailing kisses to the corner of your mouth, finishing with a sweet one on the apple of your cheek. His thumb swipes across the trail he's left, the pad of his finger callused and familiar.

"Anything happen while I was gone?" You swing your legs into his lap and his hands automatically come to ghost over your bare shins.

The thing about Steve that has always amazed you is that he's like the sun. You feel warmed under his gaze, lighter when he's next to you, more alive when he's touching you. His heavy palms calm you, pieces of your bad mood peeling off and floating away like they never existed at all. Sill, you groan, throwing your head back to look at the tree tops.

"Nothing good," you grumble. "Seems like a black cloud is following me around." Steve taps your knee and you look back at him. He's frowning, the crease between his eyebrows overwhelmingly endearing since it's on behalf of you.

"That's...shitty. Wanna talk about it?"

"Yeah," you sigh. "Eventually Not now, though. I'm feeling better for the first time in days." With Steve here it's like a filter has come off of your vision -- all the bad stuff seems to matter less.

Steve winks. "That's the Harrington charm at work," he teases. But the churning in your gut suddenly turns on again and you feel uneasy.

"I don't want you to think I can't be without you, Steve," you mutter. "Like I'm codependent or something. Or clingy."

"Woah, woah, woah! No, no I don't think that," he rushes to assure you. "I wanted to see you just as bad, I swear. Just a rough week for both of us, I guess." He tugs on the edge of your cutoffs and you scoot even closer to him so that you're almost in his lap. He pulls your hand into his over your blanket.

"A perfect shitstorm," you agree.

He smiles at you, eyes brighter already, and you notice that he hasn't shaved in a few days. You want to feel the drag of his stubble on your skin, so you run the knuckle of your pointer finger over his cheek and he shivers.

"Don't mind you needing me a little, though. Good for my ego." A laugh bursts out of you. "Okay, you laughing at my ego is less good for it." You keep tracing the lines of his face with your finger, running over his strong brows, his hairline, the bridge of his nose.

"Do you want to talk about your trip?" you ask. He closes his eyes and sighs into your touch, blowing air through his lips in a raspberry.

"Same old shit. Dad telling everyone about my disappointing job, mom talking about whatever town crap she does to impress everyone. There were some small kids there though, so I just watched them most of the time. Y'know, it made me glad that the shitheads here are old enough to know how to eat food like human beings." You want to ask him more questions, especially about what he did with the kids, but his eyes fly open and he shifts a little, one arm coming around your back so he doesn't dislodge you as he leans forward to dig something out of his jeans. The closeness makes your heart pick up and you're sure he can feel it.

"Remembered something," he says. He's grinning, pleased with whatever he's about to show you. And then he holds up a tape like a first-place medal. "Saw the new Peter Gabriel in a store and grabbed it for you."

A lot happens at once: you stare at it and feel a surge of love for Steve so strong that it makes your nose sting. He's so sweet to you, thinking about you when you were gone as you just stewed in your bad mood and moped around your house. And then you remember that your Walkman is broken and you can't stop the tears that start to leak from your eyes, hot and quick.

Steve, for his part, looks more alarmed than anything, dropping the tape immediately and pulling you all the way into his lap so he can frame your face with his hands. "Hey, hey, hey, woah, what's happening, baby?"

"My Walkman broke this week," you choke out. The tears are a mix of sadness, bring overwhelmed, and feeling embarrassed. He isn't totally sure why this is a reason to cry but he's not about to tell you that.

"Tears, though? Baby, c'mon," he says softly, thumbs warm on your cheeks. "Christ, you know how fragile I am. If you cry I'll end up crying and that won't be fun for anyone."

That makes your lips turn up at the edges even though the tears don't totally stop. "You're a pretty crier, Steve."

"That's funny," he says. "Real funny. You saw me during Top Gun and you know that's not true. We almost got kicked out because of me!" You laugh and it's a little wet but it's genuine. He really did cry a lot on that date. "I'll take a look at the Walkman, okay?" he says, a little desperately. One hand moves to the back of your neck and he tucks the other under your shirt to splay warm on your lower back. Maybe he really is going to cry. You try to reign in your distress a little. "Maybe Munson can fix it. Or...or I'll just get you a new one, no problem. Okay?"

You pull him in for a hug because all of this is just so Steve, the way he's desperate to fix a problem that he had nothing to do with in the first place just to make you happy. Being cared for like this never stops feeling new and shiny, a riot in your stomach and your heart that makes you want to cling to him forever. And the part that amazes you is that it's just how Steve moves through the world now-- he cares so much about everyone in his life and you don't know how you got lucky enough to be one of those people.

Your chin bumps against his temple and Steve ghosts his lips along your neck, his stubble tickling a little. "I'm so embarrassed to be crying about this," you mutter into his hair. He smells like sunshine and leather. You wonder if he came over here as soon as he got out of the car. "It's just a bad few days. And the tape is real sweet, Steve --"

Steve hushes you and rubs his hand up and down your back, lifting your shirt up and down a little with each swipe of his palm. "Honestly I've felt like crying all week," he says into your skin. "And that's just from listening to my dad talk." You press a kiss to his hairline and pull back to look down your nose at him. The tears stop and he notices, the tension that had gathered in his shoulders fading.

"Let's go inside and lay in my bed and get the week off of our chests, okay?" He nods and you scoot off of him and stand and Steve whines at your distance, a sweet and needy sound. You scoff at him but hold out your hands. He tucks the discarded tape back into his pocket and allows you to help him up, groaning exaggeratedly as he tugs himself to standing.

There's something so peaceful about this moment between you two despite the fact that you just cried in his arms. You want to stay in it a little longer so you take your time smoothing out his shirt needlessly, hands running along his shoulders and down his chest. He reaches behind you to pull down your hem where he rucked it up, pinching you just once on your hip and you yelp.

"Hey! Steve, c'mon."

He grins. "Hmm?" You narrow your eyes at him and mess with his hair a little. He scrunches his nose but patiently undergoes your meddling as if he wants to stay in this moment for a little longer, too. You trace a line down his nose and across his lips, and he pretends to snap at your fingertips.

"Okay, that's it," you say, hand over his heart. "C'mon, silly boy." He tucks his hands into your back pockets to hold you against him for just one second longer. He's like a magnet, a planet whose orbit you're snagged in. He's everything.

Steve's eyes are soft and earnest, open and shining as he looks at you. "I'm glad to be home," he whispers. He wasn't angling for a kiss but you can't help it when you lean in to give him a short one.

"Me too," you reply. "Thank you for the tape." You tap it in his back pocket.

"If I can't fix the Walkman I'll just sing the songs till we get you a new one." He starts to hum, bouncing his head along to the rhythm he's butchering.

"Oh god," you groan, weaseling out of his hold to head for the door. "I'm calling Eddie." Steve scoffs in outrage and is hot on your heels, chasing you up the stairs.

Things will be okay -- you knew that before, and you know that now. Steve just makes it easier to believe.

tags: @cheerupbarry @srrybutno @97soroka @sunlitide @gloryofroses19 @carpediem1219 @themarvelousbee @sunshinehollandd @katsukis1wife @imherefortea @spideyboipete @lonelywidow @louderfortheback @actual-mom-steve-harrington @steveharringtonscarkeys @pennyllanne @ducky-is-dead-inside

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daddystevee · 3 years ago

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my knees are weak this is the cutest thing ever

STAY AWHILE. steve harrington

summary: meeting the one who could make your heart stop whilst simultaneously being the reason why your heart beats is rare, and steve just so happens to be one of the lucky ones who found them during a slow monday in family video.

warnings: no major s4 spoilers, just a love-sick steve. gif credits to @emziess

word count: 4.3k

steve groans in despair.

it was barely a busy day in family video. it usually wasn’t during mondays.

he throws the stress ball against the wall and lets it bounce back into his grasp. robin was out back, it was her turn to rewind tapes and place them back on their respective shelves while he was stuck at the counter.

when he doesn't manage to catch it, he doesn’t bother getting up to grab it. instead, he calls out, “hey, robin?”

without waiting for her response, he eventually decides to meddle in his coworker’s love life. “do you know what i just found out about vickie today?”

there was a pause. a beat, just before robin responds, “yeah? — actually, no, i don’t think i want to know.”

“she,” he stops for a bit of a dramatic effect. “returned fast times paused at 53 minutes and 5 seconds and—“

“so? m-maybe she realized that she didn’t like fast times exactly at 53 minutes and 5 seconds so—“

“and do you know who pauses fast times at 53 minutes and 5 seconds?” he asks, waiting for a reply. but when it doesn’t come, he swivels in his chair and answers himself. “people who like boobies, robin!”

“ew! gross. don’t say—“

“boobies!”

“—boobies.”

“and it’s not a big deal, okay?” steve reassures, sending her a knowing grin. “i like boobies. you like boobies.”

“vickie likes boobies. definitely.” he exclaims, swiveling around in his chair again as the overhead bell notifies him of a customer. “it’s… boobies…”

and that was when he caught sight of you; headphones on as you twirl the wire, heading straight towards the romance section. there was a glow that seemed to follow you, and if you were going to ask him, it wasn’t because of the shitty lighting of family video, it was because he thinks you’re an angel.

steve’s breath got caught in his throat and he believes that his heart was just robbed out of his chest. he slowly puts his hand on his chest, just right where his heart is supposed to be, and surely enough, it is still there, gradually beating rapidly as he continues to stare at you.

“…teve… steve… steve!” he snaps out of his trance when something hits his head. his gaze falls on the ball bouncing on the floor. he looks up to see robin looking at him with a question mark above her head.

“are you even listening?”

steve didn’t even bother responding to her as he started making his way towards you. he could still faintly hear music playing from your headphones around your neck as he stopped by beside you.

“uhm, busy night?” he questions, awkwardly posing by the shelves. he leans all of his weight against it, bicep rippling, but it’s a beat before he realizes how much he’s performing for you — he’s downright smitten and downright cringing.

from the counter, robin frowns as she looks at you and then at her best friend. “damn it, steve,” she mutters, walking back to the break room as she mumbles something about how it should have been her instead of him.

“uh, yeah, you could say that,” you respond, letting your eyes linger a little longer in the romance section as you head straight towards the new releases. “i mean, if you count eating a tub of ice cream whilst escaping the cruel reality of real life type-of-busy, then yes.”

“well, if it’s any help, i would recommend-” he plucks a random movie from the shelf and looks at the cover. “ah, the breakfast club. this is a must-watch. it’s filled with romance, friendship, and a little bit of a high school adventure.”

you look at his name tag then back at him with a grin, and he swears he could melt into a puddle right then and there. “and you’re sure i’ll like it, steve?”

“oh, no, sweetheart, you won’t like it. you’ll love it.” he doesn’t know where the pet name came from but the way it easily rolled out of his tongue convinces him that it feels just right.

you ignore the heat rising up to your cheeks as you snatch the vhs off his hands. “and if i don’t end up loving it?”

“well, then i guess i’d have to make it up to you,” steve shrugs, feigning nonchalance. “but if you do end up loving it, then… then the new diner downtown sounds good for a first date, right?”

you purse your lips trying to hide the smile that threatens to spread as you make your way towards the counter. “you better start praying to the stars, steve, because i’d be really disappointed if i wind up hating it.”

he grins at your words, making his way around to ring up your selected films. as soon as it was bagged up and ready to go, neither of you felt like saying goodbye yet but alas, you had a movie to critique.

steve walks you to the exit and opens the door for you, like the gentleman he is.

“i’ll see you around, steve.”

“see you later… alligator.” it was then that steve realized that he never caught your name. he spews out silent curses as he closes the door, but nevertheless, he runs straight to the break room and steals the marker in robin’s hand.

“hey!”

YOU SUCK - IIIIIIIIIIII

YOU RULE - I

“no way!” robin exclaims at the tally. “i will never believe that you just made that happen.”

“oh, you better start believin’, rob, cause i’m back in the game, baby!”

steve runs straight into the family video’s entrance, dramatically opening both doors with a bit of force. his hair flops up and down slightly as he pants, “anything yet?”

robin pops her head out of one of the shelves she’s been organizing. “nope.”

steve lets out a heavy sigh. with every day that you don’t return, his heart that he once thought was stolen was slowly countered in small damaged boxes. no bubble wrap, no fragile warning, nothing that would ensure that it was handled with care. “it’s nearly been a week, robin.”

“well, if it’s any consolation, i think you’re a great guy, steve. it’s her loss anyway, who in the right mind would miss out on the opportunity to go out with king steve? especially with that babe-slaying hair.”

“very funny.” steve mocks a sarcastic laugh, rolling his eyes. he goes over to robin with a drag in his steps. “it’s just that- i really thought she would be the one, you know? there was something about her that just… pulled me in. she’s not like any other girl i’ve ever seen, robin.”

“she’s- she’s a goddess. an angel. it’s like she was made to make up for the world’s imperfections, like every flaw in humanity does not matter because she graces every ground she walks on,” he continues. “it’s hard to believe that we’re even breathing the same air as her. it’s-“

before he can go on with his poetic spiel, keith leans against his office doorway and says, “i knew it was your dulcet tones i heard, harrington.”

steve and robin simultaneously roll their eyes, getting back to organizing.

“a girl dropped by the other day looking for you, by the way.”

steve freezes. “girl? what girl, keith?”

“dunno, was a pretty one though,” he winks, munching on his cheezy chips. “if she didn’t nearly bite m’head off, i woulda kept her for myself. anyway, there’s some shit she left for you, it’s in here with the tapes i told you to rewind decades ago-“

before he could even finish, steve runs towards his office, effectively knocking over the human-sized cardboard cutout of phoebe cates.

and just as keith said, the breakfast club vhs, alongside the other films you picked, was neatly stacked in the corner of his office. there was a folded beige card taped on top of it.

—— ✦

I.O.U. a date.

redeemable for… a romantic milkshake for two at kelly’s diner on the 21st of may. 7 pm sharp.

to: steve (with the killer hair)

from: y/n (sweetheart)

p.s. don’t be late, romeo :-)

—— ✦

steve blinks. and then again. and once more for extra measures, just to make sure he wasn’t making it up. he reads your name, and then aloud as if testing the way it rolls on his tongue. he’s never seen a name that suited a person like it did with you.

steve feels robin’s presence beside him before he sees her. “you see this, too, right?”

she hums.

“… and do you know what this means?”

robin groans.

YOU SUCK - IIIIIIIIIIII

YOU RULE - II

it takes steve a while to realize that today is the 21st of may. he blames keith for his lack of preparation. what is he supposed to wear? something simple? casual? smart casual? he knows kelly’s milkshake shack was straightforward, but nothing too bad for him to worry about.

he was worried about how to impress you. what type of flowers do you like? do you even like flowers? what type of chocolates do you love? do you love the milky ones? dark chocolate? the one with almonds? what if you’re allergic to chocolates? but even then, steve thinks flowers and chocolates aren't enough for you.

you deserve the world, the stars, and the moon. you deserve it and more. but what a pity it is that this gesture of adoration and worship is what the world would deem unreachable. unrealistic. superfluous.

nothing is superfluous for you, he thinks. despite that, steve decides to stick with a beautiful bouquet of flowers. nothing could go wrong with that now, could it? he questions himself as he starts his trek to the flower shop a few blocks down.

the first thing that he notices is the soft music playing on the record player. the second thing he noticed is how every flower is blooming and twinkling, not a fading one in sight. the last thing he noticed was the lack of a clerk at the counter.

“uhm, hello?” he calls out hesitantly.

muffled but still coherent, he receives a response from the back room. “one second!”

there was something about her voice that sounded familiar, and yet he couldn’t pinpoint who it could be. he shrugs it off. whilst waiting, he takes a look around the shop, criticizing which would be the perfect pick.

“what flowers do you have in mind?” the voice calls out once more. he could hear some shuffling on the other side.

“i was actually hoping you could help me out.” steve replies somewhat bashfully. “maybe something that’s simple but breathtaking? like nothing too extravagant but something… ethereal.”

he wasn’t sure if they caught what he just said, but before he knew it, the curtain separating the rooms was drawn.

“busy night?”

steve stops shuffling through the vinyls and spins on his heels. “oh, yeah, scored a date with the prettiest girl in-“

you grin at the astounded boy in front of you, eyes wide and jaw slack. you delicately push the bouquet of pretty pink chrysanthemums and yellow dwarf sunflower in his hands, grinning up at him like a tease. “you were saying something about scoring a date with the prettiest girl in hawkins?”

“i- wha?”

“chrysanthemums symbolize devoted love, loyalty, happiness, and these lil sunflowers symbolize adoration.” you state. “i love the sentiment, by the way.”

“you work here?” he finally speaks, watching as you step back to organize the lone stems by the counter.

“i mean if it isn’t obvious,” you shoot him a pointed look.

“y-yeah, right, right.”

“my aunt used to own this shop, but she said she couldn’t take it anymore after some supernatural shit kept happening in this town apparently.” you huff. “i think she just needs to take her meds on time.”

“yeah, probably.” steve chuckles nervously before clearing his throat. “so, uhm, i don’t really remember seeing you around until a few days ago, is this your first time in hawkins?”

“save the getting-to-know questions for the date, harrington.” you smile up at him. “anyway, how about you pick me up two hours from now, i’ll forget that you ever bought me flowers from my own flower shop, and then we can continue this over some sweet milkshakes?”

“yeah,” he nods, his reply was barely even a whisper. there was a look of adoration in his eyes, a dopey lovelorn smile on his lips. “sounds like a plan.”

before steve gets in his car, he pauses by the door, looking back at you with one last glance before he gets stuck with the question, is this what love at first sight feels like?

steve never wants to lose that feeling.

and surely enough, steve is back two hours later with the bouquet in hand, hair styled to perfection, and the feeling of love at third sight stuns him.

steve looks at you like it’s the very first time he’s seen you, and he feels like his heart drops. every

he stares at you and there is an indescribable sensation in his chest that he couldn’t express. it gives him an urge to try every pick-up line in the book; make himself look like an idiot by asking whether you fell from heaven. because steve genuinely believes it. is that so silly of him to think?

there’s a warm fuzzy feeling deep within that void. it’s the type of feeling that makes him want to tell his friends all about you, his mom even, to the world if possible.

there was a pep in your step as you make your way toward steve, noting how handsome he looks in his shirt and corduroy jacket, jeans seemingly well-ironed. his hair is gelled – you’d have to ask him what hair products he uses later – and it makes you want to run your fingers through it.

“looking as gorgeous as ever, sweetheart.” steve compliments you with his ever charming smile. he gives you the bouquet that he’s been hiding behind his back. “these are for you.”

you take it from him and take a whiff of the sweet smell. “wow. these are beautiful, steve. i wonder who picked them for you.”

“oh, you know, just the cute little owner who works in the flower shop.” he grins. “oh, wow, would you look at that. we’re actually standing in front of it right now- oh, and good god, here’s the cute little owner i was just talking about.”

“dork.”

“what flavor do you want?”

“strawberry-chocolate has always been my go-to.”

“really?”

“what’s with the judgemental look? it’s heavenly!”

“but that’s so… so basic. i’ve pegged you to take more on the crazy flavors.”

you playfully roll your eyes at him as he guides you to a booth, hand respectfully placed on the small of your back. you look at him with a teasing grin. “i bet you love vanilla, though.”

steve scoffed, sitting in front of you. “i do not.”

he does, but he wasn’t going to admit that.

“you totally do,” you snicker before busying yourself with the menu.

“what can i get y’all today?”

“we’ll get a large strawberry-chocolate milkshake,” steve quips, looking at you for a moment before, like clockwork, adding, “with two straws, please.”

ignoring the rapid beating of your heart, you shake your head at him, “you do this with all the girls you go out with?”

“nah, only the ones who like basic ass milkshake flavors,” he grins, leaning back against the couch. “been reserving all my suave moves just for you.”

you scoff playfully, putting a hand on your chest. you can feel your heart beating as you take in his appearance under the neon lights of the shack. “should i be honored?”

“yeah,” steve nods fervently. “i’m actually glad you went out with me, meaning we don’t have to worry about your bad taste in men, too. i would have been really concerned.”

you laugh at him, and steve beams. you throw a balled-up tissue paper at his face, effectively snapping him out of his little inner dialogue about how your laugh was one of the best things he’s ever heard. “you literally love vanilla milkshakes and you’re trying to call out my apparent bad taste?”

“not vanilla,” he shoots you a glare, the curl of his lips failing to keep up with his act. he throws the tissue back at you. “seriously.”

you raise your hands in defense, trying to prevent the laugh threatening to leave your lips. before either of you could say anything else, the milkshake was served.

steve scooches closer towards the table as he places the milkshake in between you. he thanks the waitress and dips the two straws into the drink.

“just a fair warning though,” steve warns, moving closer to take a sip. “you might get enchanted by my pretty brown eyes with this close proximity, i was told you can get lost in them.”

you continue sipping with a smile, eyes momentarily flicking down at his lips before looking back up into his eyes. his eyes are pretty, you will let yourself willingly get lost in them if you can.

steve does the same, and as his eyes settle back into yours, the two of you let out tiny hushed laughter after the sudden eye contact.

“tell me if you need a map,” he sips, letting out a soft groan at the taste of the milkshake. he’s beginning to understand why you love it so much. “i think you’re starting to get lost.”

“did the heart eyes give it away?” you grin.

the conversation easily flowed like a river after that. secrets, and smiles, and laughter were shared between you two and it lasted for hours, more than what the two of you have signed up for. but neither of you was complaining.

steve learned a lot more about you than he ever did with anyone else. he learned that fleetwood mac, starship, and queen were the artists that claimed your top three. the breakfast club instantly became your favorite after his recommendation. and that you really, really want to learn how to rollerblade.

you, on the other hand, learned steve’s music taste was all over the place, but he secretly loves billy joel after seeing his parents dance to his music when he was younger, a vulnerable memory that he loves to preserve. he tells you all about dustin and the gang, and how the former was like the little brother he never had. he told you about how he was a bit hesitant about getting himself out there again after nancy, his ex, because she was the first person he’s ever loved and apparently it was all bullshit.

you both knew each other better than anyone else, not even your friends nor his knows about the things you told each other. and before you know it, you find yourselves in lover’s lake after getting kicked out for staying after closing — neither of you realized that the two of you were the only people left, save for the staff who kicked you out.

you look up at the starry sky with a content sigh, basking in the chilly air, the soft music from steve’s car, and well, steve.

“i don’t think i’ve had as much fun as i did today,” you say.

steve tilts his head to look at you, a small smile pulling at his lips before he teases, “good to know.”

“stop,” you push his face away. “i’m serious.”

he laughs, settling with a soft smile as he answers, “me, too, sweetheart.”

you look at him, and purse your lips. “i’ll be staying awhile, y’know?”

“what?” his eyebrows scrunch up in confusion. you want to give it a kiss.

“you asked me, earlier today, why you’ve never seen me before,” you recall. “i’m planning on staying for a while, just until i have everything figured out.”

“yeah?”

“yeah,” you nod. “i wasn’t going to, originally, until i found a reason to stay.”

steve smiles, he’s been smiling more than he ever did his entire life, and it’s not one of those flirty smirks or small smiles, they were the genuine and contagious ones. he’s convinced that his jaw will ache from all the muscle movement but he doesn’t mind, not when you told him prior that you loved his smile.

“yeah?” is all he can ask.

you hum in approval.

“what, our ever so beautiful hawkins, indiana doesn’t offer you enough?” he teases.

“well, your ever so beautiful hawkins, indiana so happens to offer the best milkshake,” you shrug nonchalantly. “i guess that’s enough reason.”

he gasps dramatically, putting up an exaggerated act by clutching his chest with a pained groan. “you offend me, woman.”

you laugh. “fine, you, too, pretty boy.”

“me, too, by the way.” steve murmurs after a while, ignoring the thumping of his chest. you feel some shifting from his side, so you look down to see him closer and his palm facing upwards, as if offering it to you. “maybe… maybe we can figure it out together?”

you look up at him, taking another moment to appreciate his beauty, before interlacing your fingers with his. “i’d like that very much.”

“thank you for tonight, steve,” you say, unbuckling your seatbelt as he puts his car in park. he gets out of the door and around the vehicle to open yours. “seriously.”

“no need to thank me, sweetheart,” steve smiles, tucking a stray hair away from your face. “i had fun with you tonight.”

you stop yourself from feeling the warmth of your cheeks, instead, you move a bit closer to him. “although, there’s one thing missing...”

steve frowned, his hands hovering just above your waist, hesitant to touch you. “what is it? — agh, i knew i should have gotten you the — robin said it would be too much and i —“

“steve,”

“hmm?”

“it’s not whatever you think it is.”

“oh… what is it then?”

you loop your fingers around his belt loops, tugging him closer to you. steve gasped softly, hands finally settling on your waist. “a kiss.”

“oh,”

you hum, moving your arms up from his torso and looping them around his neck. he could feel goosebumps rising in the wake of your warm touch.

your noses brush against each other, lips teasing as they barely leave a featherlight touch.

steve, getting impatient, pulls you impossibly closer, smashing his lips against yours. it was a mix of soft and desperate as if he’s been thinking of what it would have been like to kiss you. it was. if not, then it was even better than what he dreamed of.

you smile against his lips, fingers tangling in his hair. your mind is clouded; you’re drunk on his sweet strawberry-chocolate flavored kisses, the scent of his musky perfume, and the smell of his hairspray.

you slowly pull back only to have steve chase your lips again for a quick peck. “you’re a great kisser,” he murmurs.

“i know,” you tease, pulling him back down for another kiss as you can’t help yourself, only pulling away on the account of actually needing air to breathe.

“good night, steve,” you pull away slowly, his hands slipping away from yours as you walk up to your front doorstep.

“i miss you already!“ he calls out.

“go home, pretty boy.”

“good night, sweetheart!” he grins.

“drive home safe, farrah fawcett.”

“hey! i told you that in confidence.” steve exclaims, unbothered by your screaming neighbor yelling profanities at him. it was late.

you look back at him with one last smile before disappearing behind the door, you lean against it, grinning from ear to ear as you squeal in the safety of your own home. you walk around the shop-apartment with your giddy smile never faltering even once.

unbeknownst to you, after making sure you got in safely, steve is punching the air, whooping, and jumping on his feet as he did his own little celebration. he looks back once more before getting into his car, playing a billy joel song.

it frustrates him beyond belief how a woman could easily make him weak in the knees, how you, with one look into your eyes, accompanied by a glint of a smile, could make him feel as if he could crumble into lovesick wreckage, how your featherlight touch could effortlessly yield him into submission — but he supposes that he does not mind because you’re not just any woman nor is this just any feeling. he made a promise to himself that he would never fall in love again, never will he accept the risk of getting his heart broken once more, but for you — when he’s with you — he would risk getting his heart broken time and time again if it meant being in your presence. he’s never felt so seen, so loved, so adored, until he met you.

he’s willing to patch up a broken heart if it means loving you.

it’s dizzying, it’s so overwhelmingly beautiful — the feeling of being in love. the feeling of being in love with you. and in two years' time, the whisper of those three little words, those of which are common amongst those who love and are loved, and yet it holds a special meaning that no one but the two of you can understand.

it’s a promise. an oath. a secret that you will continue keeping that no matter what, it will always be you and him against the world, that even if everything else fails, your love for each other is what will keep you going.

because you did not end up staying a while, you stayed with him, and you’ll stay with him until forever falls apart.

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