Dancing with our hands tied | S.H.
Chapter twenty ⭐︎ Tell me it's love, tell me it's real
Warnings: 18+ minors don't interact! slight angst, only a tiny bit of sadness, fluff, lots and lots of fluff, mentions of loss and death, smut, pool sex, unprotected sex, mentions of unrequited feelings
Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader
Summary: You and Steve get lost in your own little world, a delusion in which you both have what you want, if only you knew how to talk, how to communicate.
Word count: 11.6k+
Author's note: @hellfire--cult we've been talking about this moment since February and now we're here aaahhhh! thanks for helping me and for putting the smut idea in my head, it's been living rent free in there for the past few months, thanks for writing with me hehe ily
Series Masterlist ⭐︎ Previous Chapter
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Steve was dying of boredom. Mrs. Click’s voice sounded through the room that was filled with other bored students, the girl next to him that he never bothered to learn the name of was chewing her gum obnoxiously as she was sketching in her notebook, she smelled like weed and a strong perfume, it was giving him a headache.
He looked at the clock and sighed, forty minutes to go…
He couldn’t wait for the bell to ring and go home, watch a movie and eat the pasta his mom made the night before.
Steve leaned back and tapped his fingers against the book he didn’t even bother to open when Mrs. Click told everyone to flip to page 137. He looked to his left, at the girl sitting by the window, listening attentively and taking notes the way he should have been doing too.
Just the sight of you angered him and he didn’t even know why, but something in his chest burned every time he looked at you and it frustrated him to no end. And yet, he never stopped himself from looking, from taking in the sight of you and how soft your skin looked, how pretty your eyes were, how nice your clothes fit you and how stunning you always were, even when you ditched your pretty dress for sweaters and jeans on some days.
Today wasn’t one of those days, you were wearing a skirt, a short one that rode up on your thighs, it made his eyes spark with interest, it made him look closer at you, he sat up straighter and leaned his elbows on the table.
Your eyebrows were scrunched together, your glossy lips puckered, your eyelashes kissed your skin every time you blinked, your hair laid so prettily on your shoulder, curled at the ends, he wondered how much time you spent on it, did you sleep with rollers in your hair? Or did you get up early just to style it?
Your skin was glowing and he swore that he could smell your sweet perfume even from a distance. Every time you passed him, he breathed in your scent and made the burning in his chest feel worse than before but he couldn’t help it, you smelled so good.
He kept staring at you and questions started running through his mind.
Why do you have to be so beautiful?
Why do you have such pretty lashes?
Why do you bite your lip like that?
Why does his heart beat so weirdly every time he sees you?
It’s not fair, it’s bullshit.
Your eyes, your smile, your hair, your lips, your pretty face, your stupid rings, your scent, your beauty… it’s not fair.
Your presence always made him huff in irritation and yet, he never bothered to look the other way or avoid you.
He always stared, every chance he got, he stared, just like now.
But then, you turned your head and your eyes locked with his, you caught him staring and it made his cheeks heat up. He shifted in his seat as you gave him a look of confusion, your puckered lips turning downwards, your eyebrows scrunching together even more.
He should’ve looked away and pretended like nothing happened but he didn’t, he raised his brows at you and curled his lips into a smirk, an action that made you roll your eyes before you turned back to your notebook.
He almost felt disappointed at the loss of your attention, but then you flipped a page and leaned closer to the table, you quickly scribbled something into your notebook, it made him curious and it made him crane his neck a little but he couldn’t see what you were writing. You then ripped the paper out and folded it, you looked at Mrs. Click before you turned back to him and threw the note on his table without giving him as much of a glance.
Something in his chest stirred as he picked it up, still looking at you before he gave his full attention to the paper in his hand, he unfolded it and furrowed his brows as he looked at your pretty handwriting before he even read what you wrote.
What are you looking at perv?
Steve almost laughed, he didn’t expect anything else from you. He shook his head and smirked as he folded the note back together and threw it in his pencil case. He ripped off a piece of paper from his own notebook and started writing without thinking.
You.
A simple ‘you’, that’s all. He wanted to see how you would react, what you would say back, if you would take it as a chance to flirt with the King, if you would use the opportunity any other girl would use.
He looked around and ignored the curious looks from Tommy as he threw the note on your table, it landed right in front of you and you wasted no time unfolding it, you looked over your shoulder at him, a deadpan look on your pretty face. You sighed and turned back.
Steve straightened in his seat, he pressed his lips together as he watched you and the way you held your breath, the way you stared at the paper for a moment, tensely and then, you huffed and crumbled up the piece of paper and threw it in your case just the way he did. You started writing hastily and made him more curious when you stopped for a second before you continued.
His heart jumped when he got the second note, just like the first time, he quickly unfolded it and read it with excitement bubbling in his chest.
Very funny, are you running out of girls to flirt with, King Steve?
Of course you would not take the bait and give into his curiosity but he found himself craving for more, you sparked his interest, so he picked up the pen again.
What makes you think I’m flirting with you, Blondie? Maybe I just like looking at you.
He should have seen the way you halted your breath, the way you stared at the note a little longer than you did at the last one.
And here I thought you only like to look at yourself…
He snorted at that and earned a pointed look from Mrs. Click, he instantly straightened his back and pretended to listen to her, scared of getting caught, he didn’t want this to end just yet. A sigh of relief fell from his lips once she turned her attention back to the book in front of her.
No, I quite like looking at the skirt you’re wearing today
Steve swore that you grew flustered at this note, you even glanced down at the skirt and took a few deep breaths before you wrote back to him.
Like I said… perv.
His shoulders slumped and he sighed. A part of him was amused, the other… not so much but before he could write back, the bell rang and everyone around him started gathering their stuff and hurrying to leave the classroom, including you. You picked up your notebook and got up, you smoothed down your skirt and left without sparing him a single glance.
But Steve wanted more. He gathered his things and jumped up, not bothering to wait for Tommy, he hurried after you and watched the way your skirt swayed and your hair bounced. He licked his lips and cleared his throat as he caught up to you, he glanced down at you with a cocky smirk on his face, one that made you roll your eyes again.
“What do you want, perv?”
He chuckled and shook his head.
“I’m not a perv.”
“You’re not?” You tilted your head at him, cutely. “Then why are you staring at my skirt and making comments about it?”
He shrugged and looked down at it before his eyes moved up your body, “maybe I just really like it.”
You rolled your eyes again and laughed – a sound that made him feel something in his stomach.
“I fear you can’t borrow it, it won’t even fit around your big square head.”
Now it was his turn to roll his eyes and yet, he couldn’t even help but snort at your insult, they were so very different from the ones he threw at you sometimes.
“My head isn’t square…”
“Yes it is,” you giggled and gave him a smirk as you eyed him.
Evil.
“You look like a lego figure, you have a lego head.”
He shook his head at you, though the amused smile lingered on his face, even as he took notice of all the prying eyes on you and him, he heard the whispers, saw the girls that eyed him and then you before they leaned towards each other to make up some new gossip, a part of him felt irritated and annoyed but the other part of him that loved the attention, couldn’t care less about what they would say about him or you.
You stopped at your locker and gave him a weird look when he stopped too, he leaned against the locker next to yours and crossed his arms over his chest as he watched you fidget with your lock. He looked at your hands, how much smaller they were than his and he couldn’t help but let his mind wander the way his eyes did as they roamed every inch of you while you were busy putting your stuff into your locker.
Usually he did not allow himself to see you as anything other than a girl he disliked but a part of him couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if he allowed himself to see you as something other than that, as something more.
He licked his lips as he looked at your soft skin, his fingers itched to touch your hair, wondering if they felt just as soft as they looked. He breathed in the scent of your perfume and felt something stir inside of him.
You turned towards him and he didn’t bother to hide the fact that he was staring. Your lashes fluttered as you blinked, your lips twisted into a downturned smile, you raised your brows at him and shrugged.
“Okay, what do you want from me, Harrington?” You asked, the strap of your backpack now over your shoulder and you slammed your locker before you crossed your arms over your chest. “Is this a dare or something or why are you staring at me like some creep?”
He felt his cheeks heat up a little, a shyness he usually never felt tugged at his emotions but his arrogance was still in control.
“I’m bored,” he shrugged and let his eyes linger on your lips as his mind continued to wander.
You rolled your eyes at him and huffed, pointing your finger around you, gesturing to the students, to the girls that stared at you in envy at this moment.
“Well, I’m sure one of them will keep you entertained,” you mumbled and took a step forward, “they are practically begging on their knees for your attention, don’t leave ‘em waiting.” You patted him on his chest before you stepped away from him.
He turned to face you, not wanting to let you go just yet.
“What if I want you to keep me entertained?” He asked teasingly with a cocky, playful smirk on his lips, one that made you blink and sigh.
“Dream on, King Steve,” you smirked and looked over his shoulder at something behind him, “gotta be more creative with your dares, your stupid friends are way too obvious.”
He furrowed his brows and turned around to see what you were looking at, he found Tommy and Carol watching the two of you with a smirk on their lips, giggles falling from Carol’s mouth. Steve rolled his eyes at them and sighed.
“Listen, that wasn’t–” he stopped talking when he found you long gone and away from him and watched as you walked away, “a dare…” He mumbled to himself, he sighed again and looked down once you were out of sight. His notebook and pencil case were still in his hand, your notes tucked safely in the case – where they stayed for a while.
“Steve!”
Your giggles make him smile so widely that it makes his cheeks ache but he can’t stop, not when you continue blessing him with your sweet laughter, your hands are on his shoulders, holding on tightly as his fingers dig into your sides, he peppers your neck with kisses, smacking his lips against the skin over and over.
You are squirming underneath him, your dress riding up in the process as you both lie on the big couch in your living room, the movie playing on the TV long forgotten, your snacks discarded on the table, your attention is fully on each other, your lips locking every few seconds as your hands wander across his shoulders, over his back, down his arms and finally melting into his hands, your heart skipping several beats when he entwines his fingers with yours.
Steve squeezes your hands and he dives in deeper into your neck, kissing and smiling against your skin.
“That tickles!” You giggle again, your eyes begin to water from all the laughter.
He chuckles against you and pecks your neck one more time before he pulls back to kiss your jaw instead, then your cheek and finally your lips, humming against you when you kiss him back immediately. Your breaths mingle together, your lips mold against each other, softly yet passionately, you are chest to chest, hands clinging to one another.
You let go of one hand and place your palm on his back, sliding it up to his shoulder and squeezing it before you sink your fingers into his already messy hair.
Steve sighs into the kiss and tightens his hold on your hand as he parts your thighs with his knee, not to take this any further but to feel you closer and you welcome him happily, not initiating anything else either, this feels good, this feels nice, this is enough.
Your whimper makes his stomach flutter, a smile tugs at his lips as you play with his hair. Your hands feel so good on him, so perfect, so right. His heart skips a beat when you push yourself up and press yourself further against him, parting his lips with your tongue, you deepen the kiss in need to feel him even closer.
Your hands roam his body and his roam yours, sighs and whimpers sound through the room as you make out on your couch, growing more and more breathless, only when it gets too much do you break the kiss and pull away from one another. You lay your head back on the pillow and open your eyes to see him staring at you already, a soft smile on his swollen lips, eyes hooded and laced with softness, his cheeks are pink and his hair is messy from all your tugging. Steve makes your heart flutter when he presses another soft kiss to your lips and cups the side of your face, tracing your cheekbone as he gazes down at you in a way only a special one should do.
“Hi Blondie,” he whispers sweetly.
You raise your hand up towards his face, brushing back his spitcurl before you trail your finger down to his lips, “hey, Lego Head.”
His eyes crinkle in amusement, a chuckle falls from his pretty lips, “wow, way to ruin the moment.”
You giggle at him and it makes him continue.
“You haven’t used that one in a while.”
“Mhmm, did you miss it?” You tease him, knowing how much he hated the nickname you gave him on a random school day.
“Hmm, it kinda grew on me,” he admits, smiling down at you, “but I kinda prefer it when you call me Stevie.”
“Stevie? That only happens when I’m drunk.”
“Yeah,” he whispers and tugs your hair behind your ear, still smiling as his eyes trace your features, “guess I gotta get you drunk again.”
“Why?” You giggle and furrow your brows at him, “so I’ll call you Stevie again?”
“Yeah, and so I can have sweet Blondie again,” he smirks, “you’re so nice and adorable when you’re drunk.”
Your cheeks heat up at his words but you roll your eyes and shake your head.
“Are you saying I’m normally not adorable?” You joke and pout at him and push him back so you can stand up, heart beating faster at the groan of protest and the tightness of his hold on your waist when you try to get up from the couch.
“Where are you going?” He asks, frowning at you when you place your hand on top of his and gently remove it from your waist.
“I’m starving, I’m gonna see what I have in the fridge.”
Steve nods and wastes no time to get up and follow you into the kitchen, admiring the way your little sundress fits your body, the way it hugs your waist and sways around your hips as you walk. Your hair matches the state of his own, messy and disheveled from the previous makeout session.
When you open the fridge, you let out a loud sigh and look over your shoulder, “uh… I kinda forgot to do the groceries.”
Steve raises his eyebrows at you, chuckling at the expression on your face, he steps closer to you and places his hands on your waist as he takes a look inside, finding nothing more than fruit, drinks, condiments and cheese, “yeah, that won’t do.”
You sigh again and close the fridge, turning around to face him while his hands are still on your waist.
“Yeah…”
“Well, let’s go out then,” Steve shrugs as the idea of taking you to a restaurant fills him with excitement and giddiness.
Your lips part in surprise as your eyes widen.
“W-Where?”
Steve clears his throat, his cheeks take on a deeper shade.
“T-To eat. We can uh– go to a sushi restaurant, I’ve always wanted to try… Have you ever tried sushi…?” He stutters and blushes.
“Y-You wanna go out with me… in public?” You ask, cringing at how shaky and small your own voice sounds.
His lips twitch, curling into a smile as he nods.
“We uh… We could go out of town, there are no sushi restaurants in Hawkins, Blondie.” His words left his mouth so casually, like his heart isn’t hammering in his chest and he isn’t filled with the same nervousness he felt as a teenage boy. He feels as though he is asking you out on a date… and maybe he is, maybe he’d like to pretend that he is.
“You mean to Indianapolis?”
Steve nods. He wants to leave Hawkins for a while, even if just for one night, he wants to be able to go out with you without feeling the need to hide, he wants to hold your hand in public and kiss you breathless on the streets, he wants to hold you close and show you off as if you were his.
He wants it all with you and he wants it here too, in his hometown, where anyone could see but he still doesn’t know how you feel, he feels hopeful but he is still in the dark about your feelings.
“It's the closest city we got.”
“It’s an hour trip!”
His heart melts at the bewildered, cute look on your face, the excitement that lingers in your eyes as your lips start curling into a smile.
“So?” Steve shrugs and squeezes your waist, “we got all night.”
Your heart is racing and everything inside of you flutters in excitement. Your cheeks are burning and you feel the giddiness of a girl that’s been asked out on a date by the boy she likes. You can’t even hide the smile that appears on your face, brightly and happily.
“I need to get changed then!” You beam at him as you already step away, not giving him the chance to protest or say anything else before you walk out of the kitchen, “I’ll be down in a minute!”
Steve listens to the sound of your footsteps as you rush up the stairs, leaving him in your kitchen with a pounding heart and a huge smile on his lips. He looks up at the ceiling, an accomplished and joyful feeling rushing through him, he can’t help but do a silent fist pump.
This is going to be a date, an unofficial one, but still a date.
He can’t fight the grin off his lips, the giddy feeling settling into his whole body. He walks back into the hallway and takes a look at himself, your lipstick is smudged on his skin and his lips, his hair is a mess, created by you, his cheeks are glowing from all the happiness inside of him.
He fixes his hair and wipes the pink lipstick off his skin before he makes his way into your living room to turn off the TV and put away the snacks you both had earlier.
You come back down fifteen minutes later, changed into a new dress and your makeup reapplied, your hair fixed and a small purse in your hand. You meet in the hallway, keys already in his hand, and he’s leaning against the door.
Steve’s heart goes wild at the sight of you in your new sundress, your glossy lips tugged into a smile, the urge to pull you into a kiss pushes him towards you.
He whistles playfully, making you roll your eyes with a giggle.
“Getting all pretty for me now?” He teases, acting cocky as though his heart isn’t threatening to beat out of his chest.
You always get pretty for him.
“I’ve been dying to wear this dress,” you say, flipping your hair over your shoulder as you twirl around to reveal your open back to him, not knowing how crazy you drive him with your action.
Steve’s stomach flutters, his hands instantly itch to touch your bare skin, you look so beautiful.
He takes a step closer to you and grabs your waist, humming, “that’s a pretty dress, I can’t wait to see it on my bedroom floor though.”
Your cheeks burn and despite it, you giggle as you turn around to face him, “is that a King Steve pickup line?”
He shakes his head, “no, he never said such things.”
“Sure,” you snort and tug at his hand, pulling him towards the door, “come on now, I’m starving!”
Steve chuckles and nods, reaching for his car keys on the dresser, he squeezes your hand, “yeah, come on, before you get grumpy.”
“I never get grumpy,” you argue as your lips curl into a pout that he instantly feels the urge to kiss.
“You always get grumpy when you’re hungry,” he laughs. He loves it.
Steve opens the door for you, giving you a sweet smile as he looks down at your pretty face. You step out and he follows, admiring the way your dress hugs your body, the way your skin glows beneath the evening sun, the way your hair shines, your perfume lingers in the air and he can’t help but breathe it in deeply, just the way he always did.
Your hand fits in his so perfectly, like it belongs there… and to him it does.
You look over your shoulder, giving him a cute smile that leaves him breathless. The golden light that shines down on you turns his breathing shaky, no words could describe your beauty, nothing comes close to it, absolutely nothing. You are stunning, bewitching, you are a goddess and he worships every inch of your being and you don’t even know it.
He wishes he could scream out those three big words, kiss you breathless and show you just how much he adores you but he can’t, he is too afraid, he fears rejection so deeply, so all that he can do is pretend, pretend that you are already his and live in this small delusion for as long as he can. He opens the door for you and winks at you, fighting the urge to kiss your hand before he lets go of you and closes the door only to grab your hand again once he is seated in the driver's seat, you lace your fingers together and squeeze his hand, unaware of the feelings you leave him with, with your sweet action.
When he turns on the music and a smile appears on your face, you sink deeper into the seat and get comfortable, a content look on your pretty features. You look so perfect sitting in his passenger seat, next to him, holding his hand, enjoying the music as you look out the window when he drives down the road.
This is where you belong, this is what he wants, you by his side, for tonight and for always, he wants you to be his, his girl.
This isn’t enough, it never was, this was never just about sex.
There was never an ounce of hatred for you in his bones, not in high school and not after.
He felt bitterness, confusion, denial but most of all, he felt jealousy, he always did and he never understood why you didn’t like him, why you bickered with him, why you laughed at his poor flirting attempts, why you didn’t want him the way every other girl did, why you showed up for Lucas’s game but not a single one of his – that night isn’t one he likes to think back on, it makes him cringe and shudder in annoyance at himself for what he said to you, he let his emotions, his jealousy, his frustrations control the words his mouth left.
He didn’t know that you were a friend of Max and Lucas, he didn’t know that you showed up for her, and for him, knowing that his friends were too busy with Eddie’s D&D campaign. He didn’t know why you were there, but when he saw you on the bleachers and he caught you waving at Lucas, whose eyes lit up when he saw you, he couldn’t help but feel jealous because why did you show up for a freshman, for a kid? Why did you never show up to any of his games? Why didn’t you give him the chance to show off?
He felt irritated, even more so when he saw you talking to Lucas in the parking lot, smiling at him and congratulating him on his successful first game.
He remembers the way he marched over to you, the way he started bickering with you instead of praising the teen he showed up for.
“Are you so desperate for attention that you go for a freshman now?”
He cringes at himself, even now, disgusted at the words he threw at you.
You looked so hurt and angry, you pushed him away from you and he never blamed you for it, you could’ve slapped him right there, he deserved it.
He felt guilty right then and there but that emotion intensified when only a few days later he found out about your sisterly bond with Max and your friendship with both of them, you cared for them and protected them just the way he did. Before he knew that, he made himself believe that you were just a loner, a person too cold to feel anything, even platonic, he wanted to believe that he wasn’t some unimportant person that you crossed paths with, that you were simply unable to form bonds or relationships but that wasn’t the case, you had people you cared for, you had friends you would die for, you just didn’t want to give him a chance, not platonically and especially not romantically.
He was jealous of anyone who was close to you, who was special to you but back then, he didn’t allow himself to explore the depth of those emotions that always lingered inside of him when it came to you.
Now he can see them, he can feel them, he can admit that he was jealous and hurt because he is no longer ashamed to like, love you — someone who might not feel the same. But whatever the outcome of this affair will be, he doesn’t regret letting all those feelings in, especially now that you are here with him, like this, holding his hand and letting him take you out and show you off in public.
He is allowed to feel hopeful now, he thinks.
Indianapolis is big and no town people, no friends, no prying eyes will be there to see you both but you could have still easily said no to his suggestion because who goes out to eat with their supposedly casual hook up? But then again, what is casual about you both?
Not even your first night together was casual.
You kissed and held each other close from the very beginning.
You stay over, you cuddle, you hold hands, even in public and when you are sure that no one is looking, you sleep in his arms and you make each other breakfast, you make sure that his favorite drinks and snacks are in your kitchen and he does the same for you, his bathroom and his bedroom are filled with things that belong to you.
This isn’t casual, the signs are there and they are so very clear, tonight especially, when you make it to the city and you walk through the busy streets where it’s much more crowded and louder than it is in your small hometown, you keep close to him and hold onto his hand tightly as you lead him to the sushi restaurant that you have told him about on the drive here, the one you went to with your parents and your sister every time you visited your grandparents in the city.
So many things go through Steve’s mind and so many emotions rush through him as you walk side by side, hand in hand with the city lights shining down on you both as the sun disappears more and more. He feels free, like he can do anything, like he can kiss you right here, right now, without needing to hide or drag you to a secret corner, he feels giddy, happy, he can’t even hide the smile on his face.
Once you make it to your destination, Steve lets go of your hand and places it on the small of your back instead, he opens the door and keeps his palm pressed against your body. He is so lost in his happy bubble, he doesn’t even notice the blush taking over your face when he wraps his arm around you and rests his palm on your hip instead as he leads you inside.
It’s crowded but he didn’t expect any less from a restaurant in a big city, he doesn’t seem to mind though and neither do you, especially when you get one of the booth tables, tucked away in the very back, next to a big window where you can see the city lights.
You sit down across from one another, smiling from ear to ear as you look into each other’s eyes.
“Hi,” he whispers, making you giggle.
“Hi.”
His honey eyes look so pretty in this golden light, his hair looks softer than ever, his smile so big and bright that it fills you with hope, especially when it stays as his eyes trace your face, he is staring at you even though he could be staring at this pretty setting around you, at the decorated room, the string lights over you, the city lights, but no, he is staring at you and he is making you feel special.
A sheepish smile takes over your face, a shyness that you rarely ever feel flushing through you, the look in his eyes is so intense that you can’t help but be the first to break contact. You lean back and cross your legs, looking around the restaurant you used to eat dinners at with your family.
Nostalgia comes over you when a family of four catches your eye, sitting at a round table, they seem to be in a lively conversation, the two little girls laughing with their father as their mother shakes her head with a smile on her face.
Steve follows your gaze when he notices the sad but soft look in your eyes. Something tugs at his chest when he takes a look at the family you are watching and suddenly your eyes aren’t the only ones filled with sadness.
He leans closer to the table, placing his palm above your hand.
“Are you okay?” He asks, watching the way you tilt your head at him, the softness in your eyes never leaving. “I mean, are you okay to be here… right now… with me?”
There is no one else you would rather be with here.
“Yeah, I’m okay,” you nod, glancing down at his hand, he is now rubbing circles into your skin, “and yes, I want to be here with you,” you admit, knowing how vulnerable you can make yourself look with such words.
He breathes out a sigh of relief, his lips curl back into a smile.
Steve keeps holding your hand, not letting go, not even when he decides to look at the menu, not even when the waiter stops at your table to take your orders, not when your drinks arrive a few minutes later, he keeps holding on and you let him.
Curiosity sparks in him when he notices the way you keep looking back at the family, a look in your eyes that signalizes the feeling of longing.
“Blondie?”
“Hmm?”
“Can I ask you something?”
You nod, “anything.”
You’re close enough to ask each other questions that won’t make the other uncomfortable and that is something Steve greatly appreciates, knowing that you weren’t here months back, not even close.
Steve blinks, taking a few shaky breaths, he keeps his hand on yours, tracing the ring on your middle finger. He clears his throat and looks down, ignoring the strong beating of his heart and the nervousness bubbling in his stomach.
“Do you uh… do you ever think about it?”
You look at him with big, curious eyes and it’s not helping his case at all.
“Think about what?”
“Kids.”
You furrow your brows at his question but you smile softly and you don’t hesitate to nod, not even needing time to think about it.
“I honestly want to… I miss having a big family, you know?” You pause and look down at his hand, wondering what it would be like if he had a ring on his fourth finger, one that would match your own. “I don’t care if it’s one or many, I just… I really want a family, one that is here with me, all the time.”
Steve’s big hazel eyes soften and flicker with deep emotions. His heart skips a beat as warmth settles in his chest.
He didn’t think he could fall even harder for you, even deeper but now as he looks at you, as he holds your hand and looks into your pretty eyes, he knows that he will never stop falling, there is no end, no limit when it comes to his feelings, to his love for you.
A future lies before his eyes, a future with you, rings, cradles, a white picket fence, kids that look like you and him. He sees something, something that is in reach, something that he hopes for, something that he wants with you without a single doubt.
“You will have it all, Blondie.”
You don’t know what to make of his words but whatever the feelings behind them are, you know that they are not what you want them to be, no matter how much his feelings for you changed, no matter how much hope there is in you, no matter how big it is, you can’t believe that the thing you have now, could be one for the future too and not only the present.
You don’t know what to say without revealing your feelings to him, you want this with him and he can’t know, he just can’t.
To your relief, the waiter brings your food to the table, taking Steve’s attention away from your face. You let go of each other's hands, thanking and smiling at the waiter.
“That looks amazing,” Steve murmurs as he looks at the plates in front of the both of you, reaching for the chopsticks, he looks down at them, growing a little nervous, he never used them before.
“It does,” you nod with a smile on your face, “hey, this is special, Steve. I’m getting my first sushi with you.” You say with a giggle, making his chest flutter.
“I thought you had some before.”
“Yeah, stole some from my dad but I never actually had a plate for myself,” you chuckle.
“Well, I’m glad we share some firsts together then because I never tried them before, at all,” he grins.
You can tell by the way he is holding the chopsticks wrongly, looking down at them with furrowed brows and pursed lips. He looks so cute like this but a part of you wants to laugh even though you can’t even use them properly yourself. You have seen your dad using them every time you came here to eat, but you never tried it yourself.
“I can tell,” you murmur, unable to hide the giggle when he tries to pick up a roll but fails to do so.
He snorts and shoots you a playful glare.
“Go ahead, and show me then, Blondie,” he smirks at you, pointing at your plate.
You clear your throat and place your chopsticks between your index and middle finger, you can already feel your cheeks heating up beneath his gaze. You press your thumb against the chopstick and bite your lip in concentration, glancing at him for a second to see him staring at you, making the warmth in your cheeks grow hotter.
“See?” You grin as you pinch your food gently, growing confident when you manage to pick up the sushi despite the shakiness in your hands.
Steve raises his eyebrows at you, smiling softly.
You go to dip it in the soy sauce when your shaky hands lose control and your sushi plops into the sauce loudly, splattering over your plate but luckily not on your dress. You press your lips together and look into his eyes, you stare at one another for a moment before you both burst into laughter.
“Oh my god,” Steve chuckles in amusement, “you’re a great teacher, honey.”
“Shut up,” you giggle and try to pick it up again.
“Guess we gotta learn together,” he shrugs with a smile on his face.
You do, you learn together and you share jokes and laugh at each other every time you fail, but once you get the hang out of it, you fall into a conversation about your parents, you tell him stories of the times they brought you and your sister into the city and Steve listens attentively, smiling at you and feeling grateful that you feel comfortable enough to bring him here and to talk about them – and you, you are surprised yourself when you don’t feel the cold sadness in you that you always felt every time you even mentioned them, talking about them with Steve feels… comforting, he is comforting.
His knees touch yours beneath the table, the material of his jeans brushing your bare skin, his hand is close to yours, his pinky touching your own. He smiles at you, he laughs with you, he makes silly jokes and feeds you his food, his eyes never stray away from you, there is only you for him right now and as the realization strikes you, you grow hopeful again, your heart skips a beat at the thought that this could be something like… a date.
You both want the same thing, though what neither of you realize is that you aren’t acting like two nervous people who finally managed to score a date with that one person, you are acting like a couple, not a single awkward moment follows you both, you are talking and laughing with each other like you’re best friends.
“I have this theory…” Steve says before he takes a sip of his coke.
You cock your head to the side, “please continue.”
He places his glass back on the table and picks up his chopsticks again, he chuckles before he opens his mouth once more, “that Dustin is copying Eddie.”
“What?” You laugh.
“Hear me out, for the past few weeks… Have you seen Dustin’s change of style!? He is wearing all black now! And his hair? It’s fucking long!” He exclaims, shaking his head.
You’re a little amused by his sudden outburst, by the confused and slightly irritated look on his face, it’s cute.
“Well, he sees Eddie as a role model, so?”
"Excuse me?” He scoffs, not liking your words, not liking that the boy that once looked up to him found someone else, someone better to look up to.
You squint your eyes at him and lean closer to the table, cupping your cheek as you smile, “Steve, is it just me or are you jealous of Eddie?”
He scoffs again, waving his hand at you, “nonsense.”
“You’re jealous that he stole Dustin from you.”
Steve shakes his head at you, “I’m not jealous, I’m just saying that– he is following Eddie like some lost puppy, copying him fully! What if he takes on smoking?”
A laugh tumbles from your lips and Steve can’t even fight the smile off his lips when your soft eyes glow with amusement.
“Really? He is fifteen, Steve! You were hosting parties at that age and getting drunk, he is not the twelve year old you once met.”
Steve laughs, he leans back in his seat and sighs, running his fingers through his hair, “yeah, I forget that sometimes, he’s not a kid anymore… he’s a teenager,” he chuckles, furrowing his eyebrows, “but come on… Eddie? Eddie’s sense of style? Is Dustin insane?”
You roll your eyes at him, still amused by him.
“So, you want him to wear polo shirts and cardigans instead?”
His lips part and he pretends to be offended, “hey! You like my polo shirts!”
“Yeah, not the point here.”
Steve tilts his chin up, smirking at you, “you admit that you like them then?”
You chuckle, shaking your head and hiding your face behind your hair as you start blushing again which prompts him to continue his teasing as he begins to reminisce about your shared days at school, leaving out the saddening memories and only talking of the good ones, the funny ones, memories of your childhood, of your time in kindergarten and middle school and how long you have been a part of each other’s lives and when you leave the restaurant after a long time, you reach for each other’s hands and entwine your fingers together without even thinking about it.
You stroll through the city and kiss on the streets, like he wanted to all night and it makes you both smile, it makes you feel happy and free and Steve can’t wait for the day when he will find the courage to ask you out on a real date, to ask you to be more than this, to be his, like he pretends you are now as you stand beneath the twinkling lights, surrounded by people, surrounded by the sounds of the city and he can’t stop kissing you, not even when you continue your way to his car, he keeps pulling you into kisses, pressing his lips to yours, to your cheeks, to your hands, to your neck, over and over again, making you giggle and blush at his sweet actions. He’s drunk on you, he is so in love with you that he can’t contain it, he has to show it in some way, he has to let it out, even if not in words.
Steve holds your hand on your way home, he kisses you at every red light and he sings along to The Smiths, you don’t think that you have ever seen him so carefree and relaxed before.
And Steve, he had never felt this happy before, nothing, no one can compare to you, to the way you make him feel, to the love he feels for you, to the happiness that flickers in him every time you reach for his hand or bless him with a sweet smile after pressing your lips to his. Those three words that are on the tip of his tongue, beg to be released and he is so close to doing it, so damn close.
You’re waving your hand in front of your face when you step inside his house, the heat of the summer night feeling too warm on your skin and Steve’s hands on your waist aren’t making it any better, worsening second by second, especially when he keeps making you laugh with his silly comments.
“I need to cool off.”
Steve brushes his fingers through your hair and tucks it behind your ears, “cool off? Why, am I this hot?” He jokes, wiggling his eyebrows at you.
You snort and place your hands on his chest and run your finger down his stomach, hooking it around his belt, “you’re such a dork.”
Your dork.
His lips curl into a smirk, he leans down close enough that your noses brush, “mhm, you like it though.”
Yes, you do, you really do.
You gaze into his honey eyes, breathing in the scent of his cologne, getting lost in his touch as his hands hold your waist.
“You know what else I’d like?” You whisper against his lips as you give him a soft kiss, making his breathing hitch and his heart stammer.
“Hmm?”
Steve blinks at you, excitement bubbling in his stomach.
“A cold beer.”
He chuckles, he expected something else but he can’t complain, not when you give him another short kiss.
You bite your lip and step away from him, letting his hands fall to his sides. You bring your hands up to the buttons of your dress, walking backwards slowly and continuing to gaze into his eyes with mischief in yours, you undo the top buttons, revealing your new bra to him. You almost giggle at his parted lips and the hunger in his eyes.
Steve gulps as you expose more and more of your skin to him, he could fall to his knees right then and there.
“Don’t take too long,” you murmur, winking at him. You walk away from him and into his living room, humming as you turn on the lights in his backyard before you slide open the big glass doors and step outside.
The night is quiet and hot, the only sound coming from the crickets and the slight rustling of the trees as soft wind blows through them and then Steve turns on the stereo in the living room, making you smile. You look up at the starry sky and listen to Steve’s footsteps.
You push the straps of your dress down your shoulders and kick off your shoes, looking over your shoulder to see Steve rushing out with two beers in his hands.
He places them on the table and steps towards you, tutting at you with a playful glare on his pretty face, “could’ve let me take that pretty dress off,” he murmurs and places his hands on your elbows where your straps hang loosely now.
His hands are cold from the beers he picked out of the fridge, goosebumps rise on your skin.
“I didn’t take it off yet,” you shrug, smirking as your hands find their way back to his belt, and you waste no time to unbuckle it.
Steve smirks back at you, tracing your skin with the tips of his fingers as he slips the straps down your forearms and pushes your dress down, bunching it around your hips, he sucks in a sharp breath and his eyes grow darker, lustful. It certainly isn’t the first time he sees you like this, but his reaction never changes, his body always reacts to you, just the way his heart does.
You look so beautiful, so goddamn sexy that it drives him crazy.
Not many words are shared between you but the silence is comfortable and your eyes speak enough words as you undress each other, you take his shirt off and place your hand on his chest, staring at him in awe as he pushes your dress down and lets it fall to the ground, his hands touching your bare skin, fingers tracing your lacy underwear.
With hooded eyes he looks down at you and he pulls you closer, “is this little set new?”
You nod, your skin heating up again.
“Looks so pretty,” he murmurs and leans in to press his lips against your neck, “too bad it’s gonna get wet.”
You sigh at the feeling of his kisses, breathing shakily.
You start pushing his jeans down, looking up at him with pleading eyes, “take your pants off, Steve.”
“Yes ma’am,” he chuckles and pushes them down his legs, he quickly steps out of them and bends down, hooking his arm around the back of your knees, he scoops you up into his arms, laughing at the surprised squeal that falls from your lips.
You throw your arms around his neck and hold on tight, looking at him bewildered while he smirks smugly.
“What are you doing?”
He steps closer to the edge of his pool, “what do you think I’m doing?” He chuckles, not giving you time to react before he tightens his hold on you and takes another step forward, jumping into the pool and crashing into the water with you, letting the cold envelope you both.
And you feel it, you feel the freezing water on your skin, the goosebumps that rise and the shivers that ripple through you but not even this takes away the heat you feel inside of you. You taste the chlorine on your lips and you feel his hands on your waist as he pulls you back up with him.
“Is that cool enough for you, honey?” He asks breathily as he wipes his hand down his face and shakes his head to get the water out of his hair.
You giggle and stretch your arms out, “mhm, the water feels nice,” you murmur and tilt your head up, glancing at the stars in the sky, smiling at the sound of one of yours and his favorite songs playing on the stereo.
Steve starts humming along, his eyes tracing your pretty features, your wet hair that still somehow looks just as perfect as it did before, water rolls down your face, your lacy bra now clinging even more to your skin making his hands itch for you.
The water sloshes around him as he moves closer to you, wanting to feel your body back against his but you seem to have different ideas because when you notice him inching closer to you, you give him a teasing smirk before you turn around and start swimming.
“Hey!”
You giggle at the disappointed sound in his voice, that sighs that follows after.
You feel his hand brushing your foot but unable to get a hold of you, you pick up your pace and start swimming faster, pushing against the water stronger, “you can’t catch me, Lego Head.”
He shakes his head, letting out a laugh.
“You think you can get away from me?” He teases, diving deeper into the water, he starts swimming after you, “I was a lifeguard, honey.”
“Yeah, you’ve been bragging about it for three years now,” you snort and dare to take a look over your shoulder, “you must’ve been a bad one, ice cream man.”
He laughs again, amused by your comment and by how you slowed down.
“You’re so funny.”
“I know,” you smirk and turn around again, thinking you can still get away from him but Steve is close, so very close. This time he catches you by your ankle, wrapping his hand around it and pulling you back, chuckling at the squeal that falls from your lips, he grabs your waist and embraces you with his arms, pulling against his chest, he holds you tightly, chuckling at the pout on your lips when you look back at him with a frown on your face.
“Not fair,” you whine and wiggle against him which prompts you to press yourself harder into his chest, into his front, you can feel his bulge against your butt, you can feel how hot his skin is despite the cool water, his hot breath on your shoulder, his lips on your neck.
You breathe in shakily, the heat inside of you rushing into your core, making you press your legs together as a deep longing takes over you.
“Guess you’re not that fast after all, huh?” He teases, loving the way your bare skin feels against his. “Didn’t even take me thirty seconds to catch you.”
You hold onto him tighter, glancing at his lips before your eyes lock with his again, “maybe I just let you catch me.”
He chuckles, adoring the way you look at him.
“Yeah sure, Blondie.”
He wraps his arms tighter around your waist as he starts guiding you away from the middle of the pool and towards the stairs.
“So what now, do you plan on drowning me?” You joke.
The water gets lower and lower, exposing your upper body to the cooling wind, making you shiver a little.
“No, too late for that,” he jokes back with a chuckle, “but I am thinking of something.”
You tilt your head to the side and raise your brows at him. He moves away from behind you and reaches for your hand as he takes three steps up the stairs, enough to still be in the water once he sits down before you. He licks his lips as he looks you up and down with need and adoration in his eyes, he admires your body, your curves, you. He pulls you a little closer, the water is still hiding your hips, your legs that he loves having wrapped around his waist and his head.
“What?” You ask softly and curiously.
Steve looks at you with hooded eyes, with cheeks glowing pink and lips begging to be kissed.
“I want to fuck you, right here, right now, in my pool, and–” he rasps, glancing up at the sky above you, he points his finger up, “under the full moon.”
Your eyes widen at his words, butterflies that never die growing wild in your stomach, your kneels almost buckle and you have to press your thighs together.
You follow his gaze and frown when you only see the stars in the sky and the quarter of the moon.
“That’s not a full moon, Steve–” you gasp when you suddenly feel his hands on your waist and he forces you closer, prompting you to straddle his waist. Your knees hit the steps he’s sitting on, your arms wrap around his neck instinctively.
“You’re a stupid moron,” you whisper with no venom in your voice or your eyes.
Steve blinks, smirking at you.
“And you are too naive,” he whispers back, squeezing your waist as you lean into each other, not even noticing that you did as you shared your soft whispers.
You smile at one another, your noses brushes and you close your eyes as your lips meet in a soft kiss, a kiss enough to steal your breath.
You move your palm down his strong shoulder, squeezing his bicep and resting your other hand on his back, deepening the kiss as he parts your lips with his tongue, blessing you with the sound of his moan.
Steve runs his hand down your waist and to your hips, gripping your body tightly, pulling you closer and closer until you’re flush against him. He can’t help but gasp when you grind against his erection, filling him with more need.
Your soft kiss grows faster, hungrier, needy but still passionate and despite the lack of air, you don’t pull away just yet. You run your hand down his hairy chest, his stomach, making him shiver against you. You tug at his boxers, pulling them down just far enough for you to wrap your hand around his dick.
“Baby,” he whispers against your lips, continuing to press kisses to your mouth as he tugs at your panties, “let me–”
“No,” you whisper as you jerk him off slowly, pumping him a few times and teasing his slit with your thumb, “I need you.”
You don’t need no preparation, you don’t need his fingers or his tongue, not right now, you only need him, to feel him, all of him.
“F-Fuck,” he breathes shakily, moaning at the feeling of your soft hand around him, “please… I want you, I need you so bad.”
You whimper as his fingers dig deeper into your skin, his words rushing to your heart and your core.
You push your panties to the side and waste no other second to guide him to your entrance, looking into his pleading eyes that watch you in awe as you sink down on him, taking him slowly and moaning out his name in pleasure as your eyebrows scrunch together. The water pressure making it a little harder to do so, and it is a weird yet not unpleasant feeling.
“J-Just like that, baby,” he whimpers, his hands holding you tightly, his eyes flickering between your face and your body, the pleasure in him growing deeper and stronger, “you’re doing so well… fuck… you feel so good,” he groans when he feels your warmth enveloping him fully.
His right hand settles on your lower back, moving up to the middle and the top and then he wraps his hand around the back of your neck so he can pull you even closer, he presses his lips back to yours, pecking them one, two, three times.
“Steve,” you whimper, tears brimming in your eyes from the pleasure in your body, from the size of him. You bite down on your lip and suppress a moan, when you’re fully seated on top of him, you feel a wave of different emotions rushing through you. His kisses, his touches, his hugs and his compliments, the sweet things he says to you, the sweet things he does for you overwhelming you in the best way possible.
Something changed, something was different today, this feels different.
You pull him into an even deeper kiss than before, letting your emotions take full control over your actions.
Steve doesn’t hesitate to reciprocate the sudden kiss, he even smiles into it, feeling his heart beating in joy.
You start riding him slowly, moving your hips at a torturing pace as you’re still getting used to his size. You’re clenching around him, your slick coating his dick and Steve feels it all so intensely.
The strap of your bra slips down your wet arm but you don’t bother to fix it.
Steve cups your cheeks as your tongues clash together, your needy whimpers vibrate against his lips but he notices how quiet they sound compared to moans and screams you let out when you’re in his bed.
“Let them out, baby,” he murmurs as you both pull away from the kiss, your breaths mingling together as your lips keep brushing against one another. He tucks your wet hair behind your ears and slips his hands down your body, settling on your hips, he gives you a lazy smile, his eyes already fucked out, “let me hear your pretty moans,” he whispers, trying to coax his favorite sounds out of you as he starts fucking up into you.
You gasp and hold on tighter, furrowing your eyebrows even more, the feeling of him splitting you open, fucking you deeper making you whimper in need.
“P-Public, neighbors might hear, Steve–” You whine as you meet his thrusts, continuing to roll your hips despite the nervousness that lingers in you from not wanting to get caught, but it’s hard to keep quiet when he feels so good.
Steve couldn’t care less about his neighbors, the bushes around his house hide his backyard well enough, there is no need to worry.
“Let them hear,” he whispers into your neck as he presses his lips to your delicate skin.
Your heart stutters in your chest, surprise sparks in you because he wants people to hear you, both of you, he doesn’t care about hiding, he didn’t care about it at all today.
His strong hands hold your hips, his cock sliding in and out of you, sending waves of pleasure through your belly, his moans echo through the night and you can’t help but get lost in the moment of this.
You bury your fingers in his hair and your face in his neck, whining as you pick up the pace, riding him faster than before, causing the water to splash around you both. His chest hair brushes against your boobs, his lips suck on your skin, his moans vibrate against you as he kisses you through it all.
“Just like that,” he hums, satisfaction tugging at him when he feels you drooling over his neck, your hot tears falling down on his skin, “look at me, honey, I wanna see your face.”
You gather your strength to pull back far enough for him to see you and those tears he caused to fall from your eyes. You’re whimpering and clenching around him tightly, making him match the sounds that fall from your lips.
His hazel eyes are dark, his lips puffy and cheeks redder than before, his wet skin glowing under the string lights in his backyard. God, he looks so beautiful, especially when he is moaning your name and clinging to you.
He cups the side of your face and you make his heart flutter in his chest when you lean into his touch.
For a moment, he leans back the slightest bit just to see you, to watch how you ride him, how you take him, how much pleasure he brings you, how your face scrunches up so prettily, how your lips curl into a pout, how your boobs threaten to spill out of your bra as you bounce on his dick, whimpering his name, over and over again.
God, he loves you, he loves you so fucking much that it physically hurts him to hide those words from you, everything inside of him screams at him to say them, to let you know, to confess to you, to show you how much he wants you, how deep his feelings for you are.
His own eyes burn with tears, pleasure and emotions mixing together as he watches you, convinced that there is something behind your eyes as well, feelings, adoration, love.
There has to be something, right?
You wouldn’t hold his hand just for the fun of it, you wouldn’t kiss him and let him feel you, have you like this if there wasn’t something in your heart for him. You wouldn’t spend nights in his arms and dinners with him if it was casual.
It’s not casual, it just can’t be.
You have to feel it too, you have to feel the love.
You just have to.
Your name falls from his lips and when you wrap your arms around him again and you lean your forehead against his, gazing into his eyes with something, you grow tighter around him, making his moans louder.
I love you.
He traces words into your skin that he can’t say out loud because he is too afraid to lose you because while there is hope in him, there is also fear, fear that he is misunderstanding something again.
I love you. I love you. I love you.
Steve wants to whisper them to you, to say them to you, to scream them out into the open for the whole world to hear.
“You’re so fucking pretty,” he whispers, making your heart explode in your chest.
“So are you,” you whisper back, shakily, wishing you could say something else, something more.
Steve looks up at you as though you’re something special, like you aren’t the girl he once hated, like you are his and it prompts you to peck his lips, over and over again just the way he always does to you.
Waves of pleasure crash over the both of you as you chase your high together, you moan against each others lips as his hand moves down your stomach and his fingers settle between your thighs, no words are spoken anymore when he presses against your clit gently, rubbing circles against your sensitive nub, your high pitched moans, his deep thrusts and the begging looks in both your eyes are enough.
You kiss and you both move, faster than before, you cling to one another harder, stronger, deeper than ever, your lips moving feverishly with each other, desperation and love behind all your movements, a searing heat cursing through you both, overwhelming your poor hearts that long for each other so pleadingly.
And when you both reach your peak, Steve has to press his lips strongly to yours so he doesn’t spill the words that become harder to keep in. He kisses you for as long as he can, he kisses you through your high and through the aftermath, your movements slow down and your hearts beat slower, he still doesn’t pull away, if anything, he tightens his arms around you, not wanting this moment to end, not wanting this night to end.
He wants to smile, he wants to feel happy but a part of him is so scared, after tonight especially.
You showed him something that he could lose at any given moment, you made him feel things he didn’t even think he was capable of feeling, you lit the fire inside of him again, you made his heart feel again, you made him love again, stronger than he ever did before, he didn’t even think a love like this was possible, he didn’t think he could love so deeply.
What will there be if he loses you?
He experienced heartbreak before but nothing would compare to this, not even his first love could make him feel such excruciating pain that you will curse him with when you decide to leave him.
His heart pains at the thought, it already begins to break just thinking of the possibility.
Steve clings to you, when you pull away from the kiss, he buries his face in your neck and breathes you in, he holds you tightly as though he is afraid that you might disappear if he lets you go.
He needs to feel you, he needs you against him, he needs to savor every moment you still allow him with you.
Steve can’t bear to lose you, not you, he can get through anything, he can get over anything but not you.
And while he is filled with fear, inwardly begging for you to stay, for you to be the one to be by his side – you are holding onto him with hope, with a smile on your face, unaware of the fear that lingers in the man that you love with all your heart.
You never thought you’d be in this position. That you’d ever feel like this when it came to Steve. You never thought you would feel confident in this relationship, potential, a future in it. The fear slowly decreases in each caress he gives you, in every touch, in every kiss. A fear you never thought you would lose in your life.
All you ever imagined in this love you had for him was pain. Everything ended in pure heartbreak and loneliness for you. Now, that image doesn’t come to mind. That picture you painted is no longer vivid in your head.
And this is when you realize that you have a chance. You truly have a chance.
You decide to push it all aside, the anxiety, the fear of rejection, the fear of loss, you push it all away, no longer allowing the sadness and the fear to control you, if today wasn’t the push that you needed then you don’t know what else will.
All the signs you weren’t sure of are there, they are there, colorful and bright, for you to see so clearly and you no longer move away from them, you move towards them, allowing yourself to feel hope that he can feel the same.
And when you two go to bed that night after a long shower together, you cuddle and you kiss each other sweetly, whispering words of affection to one another, tracing each other's skin and holding one another tight.
You make a decision.
Tomorrow… Tomorrow will be the day you decide to confess. It cannot wait any longer. It cannot be postponed. It is inevitable, and you cannot handle the pain of loving him and being just this item with him any longer, especially not after this night.
Having him like this is no longer enough.
Keeping those three words in becomes less possible after every kiss, every touch, every whisper.
Tomorrow your life will change.
And hopefully for the better.
♡
tagging friends and mutuals
@prettyboyeddiemunson @taintedcigs @mysticmunson @corrodedcorpses @maroon-cardigan @thecreelhouse @ibellcipem @joekeerysmoles @munsonlore @sherrylyn0628 @munson-mjstan @agirlwholovesrockstars @moon-flowerrs
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inspired by this post by @ruelogy
ao3
Eddie knows he got to Hawkins a little later than everyone else. He wasn't born and raised in the six miles of town with the same eight people his whole life. There was a whole social services kerfuffle that meant he didn't land in this small town hell hole until he was the ancient age of thirteen. He knows he's destined to forever be the freaky new kid with the shaved head and the group home eyes who joined in the eighth grade. But even without all that he is fucking positive that there was no Henderson in any of his three graduating classes.
Yet here Henderson the supposed younger sits painting him a mystery week after week. Steve said this, Steve did that, Steve may very well be a delusion if the way the others giggle and sigh every time he gets brought up is any indication. Cause it goes like this: Henderson comma Dustin is a fellow Hawkins transplant. Son of a single mother -- divorced or widowed, Eddie knows enough now to be sure that fueled the Hawkins gossip mill for weeks -- who brought her young son with her. Son, singular. Dustin joined the first grade class of Michael Wheeler, Lucas Sinclair, and William Byers and that is as they say history. If there had been sons, plural, this mysterious older brother should have by all of Eddie's figurings joined Hawkins junior high right around the same time as a miserable Eddie. There should have been whispers about two new kids, there should have been someone for him to commiserate with, befriend.
Yet week after week young Dustin sits at Hellfire spinning yarns of a brother who was, what, homeschooled? Sent to a private military academy? Boarding school? Stayed at home with the mysterious father that Dustin doesn't mention -- and Eddie knows enough about fathers that go unmentioned not to break the silence -- but suddenly decided after he graduated to come join his mother and brother in Hawkins? Cause the thing is, Hawkins isn't that big. If pressed he's pretty sure he could name at least 90% of both of the classes he was supposed to graduate with and at least 75% of the group he's stuck with this year. He'd at the very least recognize them on sight, and not just cause he's dealt to the greater portion of the high school. Eddie pays attention, there are only like 400 students at the high school at any time, he should by all accounts be able to say, "Oh yeah that scrawny, bespectacled loser is Steve Henderson."
Except maybe there is no Steve Henderson, he's already faintly sure there's no Suzie so what's one more fictional friend from Dustin Henderson. Maybe this Steve is just the product of a fractured mind brought on by too much hands on parenting. Eddie knows people think all of his bad behavior is the product of underparenting, but if the opposite causes imaginary siblings he'll take the hand he got thank you very much.
Cause, sure he's doing his best to be third time lucky with this whole high school thing. He does know that compared to the should be starry eyed, but actually unsettlingly wary freshmen he is an ancient being of chaos. Yes, he feels every ounce of the five year gap between 19 and 14 when he speaks to them. But beyond all of that, he is still young. Still capable of swooning now and then; and the now is when Dustin describes his big brother and the then was all the other times Henderson the older has been detailed.
"Well that's cause I'm not really sorry, Mike," Henderson is on a tear already when he makes it to Hellfire, "I told you I have plans already."
"It's not that big a deal," Lucas placates, "we can do it another day."
"My parents won't be out of town another day," Mike sneers, "Will, you wouldn't ditch out on an all night Nintendo marathon for a date with Steve would you?" He says it like Will is the voice of the populace or something.
Maybe he is, and going by the way Will flushes a bright pink up to his bowlcut the voice of the people would in fact rather go out with Steve Henderson than hang out in a basement playing video games.
"It's not a date, he's my brother, and yeah dude I'm gonna skip out on watching you scream at Mario to go to an all night Stephen King movie marathon." Dustin says.
And swoon. That sounds like a dream.
"Like Steve would ever do something that cool, you can just say your mom won't let you come over cause my parents aren't gonna be home." Mike is surlier than usual, a trait he has noticed happens a lot when Henderson the elder gets broached. Eddie's theories range from misplaced sibling jealousy to repressed queer crush on Steve.
"C'mon kiddies save the tantrums for your mommies," he doesn't have a taste for it regardless of the answer, puberty is a bitch he's glad to be seeing the back of and Wheeler can go from being an angel to the kind of brat you do want to narc on just a little. "The rest of us have hoards to slay, maidens to save, things that don't involve listening to your play date fall apart."
He desperately wants to ask Henderson where they're movie night is taking place, because it sounds amazing and not at all because he wants to finally see this mysterious brother.
“It wasn’t even mine!” Henderson is moaning by the time Eddie makes it from O’Donnells to the cafeteria. He wasn’t that late, five minutes to plead his case for his grade at most, but Henderson could monologue with the best of them and it took about as much to get the kid going as it did Eddie, which was saying something.
“And you and Erica made fun of what was under my bed.” Lucas says with a smirk and a roll of his eyes.
“What was under your bed?” Will asks.
“We are not going to let Dustin get out of the fact that his Mom found his Star Trek porn that easily,” Mike shrieks, he sounds like he’s trying to mind his volume but it’s still too loud for a public venue, “You gave me shit for weeks about that Penthouse you found under my bed.”
“We gave you shit because you stole it from your dad,” Lucas corrects, not that anyone but Eddie hears it.
Cause as Lucas speaks Dustin is shouting, “It wasn’t fucking mine! It has to be Steve’s but try telling my mom anything about her favorite son.”
Three sets of disbeliving eyes look over at Dustin, but it’s Mike who says, “There’s no fucking way anyone is gonna believe it was Steve’s dude, just give it up.”
“I don’t even like Star Trek that much!”
Eddie has been having dreams of a mystery boy with a gorgeous head of hair and Dustin’s sweet smile. He likes horror but will pretend to get scared so he has a reason to hide his face in Eddie’s neck, and when he gets there he’s a biter. “Now, now Henderson, what kind of self-respecting nerd doesn’t enjoy the dulcet tones of Mr. Spock.”
Henderson wrinkles his little nose, what a twerp or maybe he’s thinking of his brother’s zine again, “It’s okay, but who goes to sci-fi for philosophy when you could watch space battles and deathstars.”
Eddie spares a prayer for Dustin’s English grade. “Well at least one Henderson has taste.”
He’s never had a younger sibling in Hellfire before, Gareth and Joey are only children and Jeff is way older than his miracle baby sister, so it is a treat to watch the way Henderson goes red, white, and then green as he cycles through a series of emotions surrounding his brother so fast it gives Eddie a headache.
“Dude, he probably bought it for you not knowing what it was,” Mike says, “it’s not like Steve is watching Star Trek.”
"You didn't see it."
"Maybe it was a prank?"
Eddie tunes them out, returning to the Steve in his imagination. They're slipping out of the movie they just finished, the one they bought tickets for, Steve giggles -- Eddie thinks he'd have a nice laugh, thinks he makes his brother laugh a lot -- and tugs him into The Voyage Home. "You gonna think of your favorite captain while we hide in the back row, Stevie?"
"Kirk is an Admiral now, he has been for three movies. Some fan you are."
He wonders if it’s creepy, this mental file he’s compiling on Henderson’s brother. It’s not like he knows the guy, truly a backwards fucking miracle in this two stoplight nothing of a town, but Eddies’ always liked something that he can sink his teeth into and pull apart. That’s what Steve Henderson feels like to him, like if a rubix cube was also a steak. He’s lost track of the metaphor in his own head, it’s whatever.
Cause Steve Henderson loves horror movies, but watches sappy romance flicks with his mom when they both have the same day off. Steve Henderson’s favorite color is yellow, but he only wears it on days that he can barely get out of bed; Dustin says that like it’s a warning sign for the others “Steve has his yellow sweater on today,” explaining away his absence at the arcade that afternoon. Steve Henderson could have any girl he wants -- this factoid Eddie takes with a salt, lime, and tequila -- but he never goes on dates anymore and only hangs out with his best friend and coworker. Steve Henderson baked a brownie so good Jeff moaned in the middle of Hellfire but can only over or undercook pasta when he tries.
Dustin loves his brother. Dustin thinks he’s the worst person to ever grace this side of the planet.
That Eddie thinks is at least typical for siblings, barring the Byers who seem to be so close knit they’d put the Bradys to shame.
“Henderson, my man, why the long face? We’re about to begin the most dangerous leg of your quest yet!” Hellfire was getting a delayed start -- the drama club was actually using their prop closet, go figure -- it was just him and Henderson lurking outside so Eddie did have to find his fun where he could get it.
“Steve and Robin went up to Indianapolis and they’re gonna be gone the whole weekend.” And yeah, he probably could have guessed it was about big brother Henderson. Dusty has the cutest case of hero worship when he wasn’t wishing big brother dead. “They say they aren’t dating, and it’s just for her birthday, but a weekend trip seriously it screams romance.”
“And you’re mad they didn’t bring you?”
“I could have been out of the way! Do you know the kind of specialty tech shops they have up there? I need some things you can't get in Hawkins to improve Cerebro and it's twice as much to get them mail order. I could make myself scarce for a couple hours so they can get it on.
He smacks the bill of Dustin’s cap, knocking it down over his eyes, but nobly refrains from giving him a noogie, “Dusty if you ever want to pop your little Mormon girl’s cherry, maybe don’t say shit like ‘get it on.’”
“Suzie is an angel, don’t be crude, man.” Dustin’s hands are quick as they smack him away, that must be another little brother trait.
“An angel, huh, another point in the ‘girlfriend isn’t real’ category. How many imaginary friends do you have, kid? A girlfriend in Utah and a brother that no one but your party has seen.”
The rest of Hellfire starts to trickle in, having used their time waiting for their table more wisely than Eddie has. Dustin’s comment is delayed only momentarily as he says hi to the rest of the freshmen that he definitely saw only a few minutes ago. “For the record, Suzie is very real. And you…” It’s the way he trails off that makes Eddie nervous, the way a light goes on in his eyes that sets the hair at the back of his neck on end. His danger instincts are finely honed and that's the same, 'I'm smarter than you look' Henderson was wearing when he managed to sniff out half the traps Eddie had laid out last session. "You should meet Steve, I bet I could get him to pick us up next week instead of Nancy."
He thinks this must be what the raccoons behind the trailer park feel like. The obvious trap of the shiny silver cage that's been baited so sweet it's hard to resist walking in anyway. "Sure, Henderson, tell the mysterious brother to stop by. Have him bring one of those zines that definitely belongs to him."
Dustin is especially vicious as dispatches with every creature that Eddie throws at him that day. It’s hard to be that upset, he’s feeling pretty fat and happy sitting in whatever animal control rodent trap Henderson thinks he’s got him in.
The next week’s session comes in a haze of vague daydreams and intense session prep. He’s had Steve Henderson on the brain for so long that he all but forgot about his little tête-à-tête with Dustin the week before. Forgot if not for the way that Baby Henderson is vibrating at the Hellfire lunch table when Eddie arrives.
“Steve is coming to get us from Hellfire today!” Eddie personally thinks this doesn’t quite deserve the level of reaction that it’s getting, but Henderson is so worked up no one even needs to prompt him to keep him going. “He had to leave right after his weekend trip to go deal with lawyers and shit.”
“Are they still..?” Lucas trails off, he’s clearly concerned but for all that Eddie hates that the kid is looking down the barrel of jock life he is extremely emotionally adept.
“Mom and Steve both said it was handled now. They won’t answer me when I ask any questions.”
Ominous, everything about Steve Henderson was so fucking weird. A kid who didn’t exist all through high school, that he’s never seen in town, who has lawyers now?
“Maybe Hop could,” the kid started to ask, hopeful.
“Mom says that it’s Steve’s business and we should all stay out of it unless he asks for our help.” Will responds by rote, something he’s clearly already tried before.
“So the infamous Steve Henderson is going to grace us with his presence today?” Eddie knows the answer already, but like most of his vices he can't resist indulging.
"He's taking us all out for ice cream after," Dustin agrees, "you could come too Eddie, I'm sure Steve wouldn't mind!"
"Steve minds everything," Mike grouses.
"Steve always buys your triple scoop sundae."
Eddie thinks Steve Henderson would have elegant fingers. He thinks about how they might toy with the straw of his milkshake while he smiles, coy and teasing, at Eddie, who he's charmed by. This Steve lets Eddie snatch the cherry from his drink, blushes when he gets his stem returned tied in a knot by Eddie's tongue.
"Well if Steve is buying, who am I to refuse an invitation?"
He does not end Hellfire early because Steve Henderson is coming.
He does, by pure coincidence, need to piss 15 minutes before things are set to wrap up. If that gives him enough time to clean himself up a bit that's just luck. This isn't for Steve Henderson.
His bathroom break, and definitely not pre-date primp session, puts him at the back of the pack when Steve Harrington's maroon beemer pulls into the lot. It feels a little bit like sophomore year again. When his hair was in another awkward stage of growing out and curled around his ears, he didn't have his mom to help him with the curls anymore and he didn't know what to do with them now that they seemed to twist and turn in new directions post-buzz. He caught the sweetest looking boy with puppy dog eyes staring and he'd been so embarrassed about getting caught he'd touched his own locks. Hairsprayed into oblivion and locked firmly into place the touch was ripped away and a shy, 'what can you do' smile was shared between the two of them. It feels a bit like junior year when Steve Harrington broke the keg stand record as a sophomore. Rounding the corner from tipsy into drunk or maybe bypassing it altogether for blackout, he wandered over into Eddie's domain. He had that same shy little wave, but a stronger confidence. He sidled up to Eddie and wrapped a curl around a finger. He tugged, just a bit, the way kids do when they want to see if it'll bounce back. "Yknow you'd be pretty if you were a girl." The slip slide of his definitely drunk tone didn't take Eddie out at the knees any less.
The car curves up closer to the front steps and Henderson is shaking like a rocket leaving Canaveral. He actually starts to take a step toward the still moving car when four hands clamp down on him saving Steve last-name-to-be-determined from a vehicular manslaughter charge. Eddie is the last to release him when he hears that car slide into park. The engine has barely had time to rumble to a stop before Steve Harrington is out of it. A toothy smile splits his face and, hidden behind Byers and Wheeler, Eddie watches as Steve Harrington proceeds to engage in the nerdiest fucking handshake he's ever seen. Steve Harrington finishes dying by what seems to be lethal lightsaber disembowelment and waves at the other three teens.
"Alright let's rock n roll if you twerps want ice cream before I drop you off. Joyce will kill me if you're late."
"Steve, can Eddie come with us?"
As Henderson asks Eddie now sees the exact size and shape of the trap he is in. The actually dweeby, dungeon master and drug dealer forced to watch the hot, once cool older brother bow to the obligation of Midwestern courtesy now that he's been ambushed with Eddie's existence. Or worse he'll have to stand there and pretend to be unbothered while King Steve shoots both Hendersons hopes and Eddie's dreams in the face with one curled lip.
He never could have imagined the furrow of confusion between his brows. The way lips wrap themselves around his name, tasting it. He hadn't, in his many fantasies, pictured golden brown eyes though he often thought of them snapping up to him like they were now.
A rosy blush blooms across Steve's face. He has the same shy finger wave he did as a freshman. "Depends, Dust, are you gonna give up your shotgun dibs or are you gonna make your troop leader sit in the back with the rest of the Party.”
He watches as if in slow motion as Henderson lunges for Steve, the elder is laughing as the younger wraps his arms around his neck. There is something very intensely attractive about the lingering jock of it all. How Steve is still upright even as his teenage brother dangles from his neck. “You know it’s Dungeon Master, you get it right with Erica!”
“I have a lot of respect for Erica, the things she does with goblins and kobolds is masterful. You asked me about the lead up to a trap so obvious it felt like an eagle scout showing his little cubbies poison ivy." It's bitchy and nerdy in all the best ways, and then Steve H- Steve looks up at him and winks, "No offense, Munson."
"None taken, Stevie." That seems to catch them both by surprise, the lack of a certain last name to fall back to -- and weeks of imagining what it might be like to interact with the guy who is and isn't right in front of him -- has Eddie overly familiar. "I drove here though." His van stands like a monolith alone in the middle of an empty parking lot.
"Oh."
"But I could meet you there? Are you going to the Dairy Queen by the library or the haunted one?"
"It's not actually haunted," Byers pipes in with frightening sincerity.
"But yeah, the haunted one," Steve says with a boy next door grin.
"Then I will meet you and your charges there Sir Henderson." He bows and only immediately regrets it, now that the once Harrington lord of the school is out of his line of sight. His brain feels like it could short out, faulty wires sparking against memories and daydreams and general hormones.
A sheepie he saved from the slaughter snorts, another - probably Mike - whispers "Gross." There's a grunt that Eddie hopes is the traitor catching an elbow from one of the others.
But it doesn't. fucking. matter because Steve Whatever laughs, practically giggles at Eddie and his antics.
And Dustin's rocket has come in for a rough landing, "I'm going to regret this, aren't I?"
Steve's hand envelopes the top of Dustin's head, he nearly palms it. It's not quite a noogie, more like he shakes his head for him. "Dusty-bun, why would you regret introducing me to your Dork Mother?"
"I'm gonna tell Ma you're being a bitch again."
"She won't believe you, I'm her favorite." He shoots another wink toward Eddie, a joke he's being allowed in on.
Level headed Dustin Henderson, who explained to him, in depth, how getting overly emotional impairs higher level critical thinking, stomps his foot. "You're so full of shit."
"I am. She chose me, she got stuck with you."
"Steve!"
He laughs at the despair he's caused, ruffling cap covered hair again until Dustin stomps out of reaching distance to climb in the Beemer with the other boys. Brown eyes are bright with mischief when he looks to Eddie, and he's struck by a thought. He was right, he hadn't ever met Steve Henderson before today. This is not the same boy who sat in the cafeteria with a closed mouth smile listening to Tommy H. and Carol. "Let me walk you to your car?" He asks.
"It's right there, Stevie, and do you really want to leave that band of miscreants alone with your car?" He's playing with fire, but the fear of getting burned has never stopped him before. He leans in close, whispers, "They might steal it."
Steve pales, a haunted look in his eye. He shakes it off, squeezing his eyes shut tight, and that soft smile slips across his face again. "Let me watch you leave then." That smile slides into a smirk, as he looks Eddie up and down.
He was right about getting burned, his face feels like it's on fire as he flees the scene. His tail is definitely not tucked between his legs because Steve is absolutely staring at his ass right now. He doesn't remember how walking is supposed to feel, but it's probably not like this. It would be embarrassing, the fact that he probably looks like a baby deer discovering he has knees for the first time, if it weren't more important that he makes sure each foot is planted so he doesn't acquaint himself with the ground below him. Safely encased in the van, he chances a look through the windshield and confirms that Steve is watching him.
He waves, and yeah it is gratifying to see the guy who at one point had half the girls in school fawning over him duck his head like he's embarrassed at getting caught staring. Sinclair leans up from the back seat, Eddie watches him clap Steve on the shoulder and make a comment on… something, probably him. It makes the rest of the car laugh and Steve thunk his head down on the steering wheel. The horn sounds, an echoing burst of noise that cuts off just as quickly as it starts when Steve jumps in his seat. The seat belt stops his jump short, and he sends another flustered wave Eddie's way when he notices him still watching.
Maybe he'll mention this to Little Red, his new neighbor has mentioned stealing young Henderson's brother and making him a Mayfield instead. A joke that makes a little more sense now. Sinclair has been making moon eyes at her and baby Hopper at lunch for the last week. That will be a better punishment than anything Eddie could do to him at the table.
He waves back at Steve, gives him his most winning smile -- the one he practiced in the mirror for charming pretty boys if he ever got out of the armpit of Indiana. Mimes driving like he's in a bad movie. Across twenty feet and two windows, he can't hear Steve laugh, needs to get to somewhere where he can. He can see the smile though, the dorky thumbs up.
He lets the Beemer pull out in front of him, watches it for just a moment as reality sets in. Reality. He's going to meet Steve Henderson for soft serve. It's a dream come true.
Arwen shifts into gear, and he slides out behind Steve and the sheepies. A whole new world of daydreaming unlocked.
Maybe next week Steve Henderson will let Nancy pick the kids up next week. He'll slip in the back doors of the school, unnoticed by everyone. Stealth bonus obscene for a fighter class. Eddie is moving slow as he moves minis and graph paper maps into the tackle box Wayne gave him, back to the door he misses his rogue slip through the door until he's already grappled.
"Was it a good game, Munson? You win?"
"It's not like one of your sports, Henderson, the wins aren't as clear cut."
Hands start to wander, "Isn't any time you pull one over on the Party kind of a victory?"
"In which case I do stand victorious, your sweet baby brother lost his brand new axe to a mimic."
"Hmm, you know what we used to do after a victory in my 'sports?'"
A hand has migrated to an especially interesting place. "What?"
"We'd hit the showers."
Eddie shakes himself out of the daydream, easing just the smallest bit harder onto the accelerator. He needs something to cool himself off with. He also really wants to see Steve again, to make up for lost time.
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