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https-florals · 2 years

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kitchen counter - s.h.

summary: if you move in with your best friends, there is only one rule. do not fall in love with one of them. you and steve have never been good rule-followers.

word count: 2.3k

warnings: cursing, not proofread at all, steve’s horny constantly

author’s note: kind of new girl au!!! they’re all living in an apartment together because i’m a slut for the roommates to lovers trope. tbh i don’t like this a lot, i have some other wips that i like a lot better but cannot focus on for some reason. gotta lot going on (college apps, show choir, work, blah blah blah) but am doing my best to do what i love best and write for y’all! ❤️❤️❤️

“Holy shit, you are totally in love with him!” Robin’s eyes are wide, and her hand flies out to grab your arm.

Your cheeks go red, and suddenly you want to run out the door. You are painfully aware of the other presence in the little Hawkins apartment, and although Robin’s door is shut, you have a ridiculous dread that said presence is eavesdropping outside. Words stick in your throat, and you’re internally cursing her for reading you so well. “You’re crazy.”

“And you’re a horrible liar.”

Groaning, you cover your face with your hands. “I don’t know,” you whisper, muffled against your palms.

“I think you definitely know,” Robin whispers, and you don’t have to look at her to know that she is grinning like a little kid.

You want to scream, but settle for letting all the thoughts you’ve been bottling up out. “Fine,” you grumble. “I like Steve. Have for a while. It’s just- it’s weird, Rob. I love what we have, and if I screw that up, I think I’ll go insane.” You flop onto your back, and Robin does the same. You’re lying together like two little girls at a slumber party, knees knocking and hair tangled together on pillows as you giggle about boys. The scene is so familiar and comforting that your eyes well a bit. Why? You have no clue.

“Don’t cry!” she exclaims. “We don’t have to talk about it!”

Trying to suck your tears back in, you wave your hands in defense. “No, I need to just get it out.” Just one more deep breath, and you’ll talk. Just one more. Maybe three. “We act like little girls,” you laughs wryly. “We’re nearly grown women, and we’re cuddled up gossiping like middle schoolers.”

“And who cares?,” Robin answers. “The best thing about being grown women is that we can do whatever the hell we want!”

“Damn straight,” you agree. “Have you talked to Vickie recently?”

“Quit changing the subject.” She smacks your arm.

The two of you stare at the ceiling, and you bite the bullet and decide to explain yourself. “I do like him. And I really do feel so stupid and inexperienced, which is so crazy. We’re not in high school anymore. I should have better control or some shit, but I am giggling like a damn fool when he makes stupid jokes, and I’m acting so obviously weird. I can feel it.” You cover your face with your hands again and take another deep breath. “But I can’t do anything about it. Because we fucking live together, and I’d sooner jump off a cliff than ruin this.”

“It would probably ruin the vibe. You might break up, and then Eddie and I will have to vote on who to kick out of the apartment.” She’s joking, but she’s not wrong.

“Exactly,” you whine. “He’s my best friend, and I can’t, absolutely cannot, lose him. If we dated or even hooked up it would make everything so endlessly complicated and I can’t lose what I have with him. Or what I have with you, and Ed. We worked too hard to get this apartment for me to throw it away because I want some dick,” you scowl. “So I have to pretend that nothing is going on. If he found out, things would get weird, then it would get complicated. And I hate when stuff gets complicated.”

“You do love the word complicated,” Robin quips, flipping onto her stomach and sighing. “Listen, I know that you’re scared, and it’s totally understandable. As much as I really, really, really want to help, I’m not going to get involved. Unless you tell me I can.”

“Absolutely not.”

She sighs again, overdramatic as hell. “Okay. Well, just know that I will support you no matter what. If you decide to do it and it gets messy, I will be here. If it goes awesome, I will be here. If you don’t ever tell him your feelings and become sad and lonely, I’ll be extremely disappointed in you, but I won’t tell you.”

“You’re a saint, Robin. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Steve, why are you standing by Robin’s room like that? Are you high?” Eddie is stirring sugar into his mug of tea as he watched the brunet boy hover in the hallway. “You didn’t smoke without me, did you?”

Steve freezes. He doesn’t know what to say to him, all he knows is that he stopped by Robin’s door because he heard you say his name. He’s scared to make even a noise in case the girls hear him.

“Steven,” Eddie says all singsongy, walking towards him, and Steve panics. Before he knows it, he’s shuffling backwards into his room and slamming the door. Thoughts are running rampant through his mind, and the mere shut of his door feels like an explosion in his mind. Another bomb explodes when Eddie opens the door and it swings right into Steve’s face.

“What the fuck, Eddie! Ouch!”

“I didn’t know you were gonna be standing right there, man!”

Steve shushes him, and pushes the door shut with his leg as he hold his nose. “What is wrong with you?”

Eddie’s eyebrow quirks up, lips creasing into a frown. “What is wrong with you?”

Steve lays back onto his bed, sighing. “Other than you nearly breaking my nose? A lot.” He can feel the mattress dip as Eddie sits beside him, and all he can think of is how funny it is that since they first rented the apartment, his breakdowns always result in him lying on his back and Eddie impatiently waiting to give him a piece of his mind. Well, it’s not all he can think about, but he’d much rather think about his best friend than freak out about the girl sitting on the other side of the hall.

When he sits up, Eddie is still there, staring him down with an expression that he can’t quite place.

“She likes me,” Steve blurts. It seems almost like a fever dream, something he had wished for but never truly expected to happen.

“And you like her too. Duh.” Eddie says this like it’s a known fact (it most certainly is, to everyone except you). “What are you going to do?”

Shrugging, Steve puts his hands up and smiles. “What happens will happen, y’know? I’m not gonna freak out about it.”

“Steve, you’re doing that thing where your eyes start to bug out a little. You are absolutely freaking out.”

“I know!” he whisper-shouts, his hands in fists. The room is spinning, and he wants to just crawl in his closet and stay there. There’s too many feelings swirling in his head and he hates it, just about as much as he hates the way you always seem to be in the shower when he has to pee. Just about as much as he hates when you come out in that stupid little red towel, and talk to him so casually, while he’s doing everything he can to not focus on anything about you, and especially not the way your hair is falling over your bare shoulders. Probably would have been a good idea not to move in with his best friend who he’s had a crush on for years. “I don’t know what to do, Eddie.” His voice is strained.

“Pull yourself together,” Eddie answers, his tone surprisingly gentle. “I’ve listened to you talk about her for months, dude. I’m surprised I haven’t caught the two of you fucking on the couch yet. You need to go for it.”

“I overheard her telling Robin that she could never do anything with me because it would get complicated. She doesn’t want me, Eddie, and it’s okay. I’ll just… ” Steve trails off, and Eddie shrugs.

“Your loss, man.”

It’s late when Steve finally comes out of his room. It has to be past midnight, because no one else is in the living room and everyone else’s room lights are off. He’s pulling beer out of the fridge when a door shuts, and you tiptoe out of your room. All you have on is a old, baggy Hawkins High Swim Team shirt. It used to belong to someone else, and you freeze when you see him.

“Want a drink?” He pulls out another bottle.

You give him that awkward close-lipped smile and nod, taking a seat at the kitchen island.

Steve is so glad that the island separates the two of you, cause he just knows that that stupid shirt (his stupid shirt) is riding up as you sit. He opens the beer and slides it to you, acting as nonchalant as he can manage.

Your head is pounding from going over any and all scenarios with Robin, and you know that the alcohol isn’t gonna help your decision-making. You still take a sip, though.

The silence is tense and thick as you sip beer and look at anything but each other.

When the bottle is empty, you decide it’s as good a time as any to face the music. When you get up to throw away your bottle, you lean against the counter. Watch him for a second. Steve’s hair is really messed up, and his eyes are kind of red. “Uh, Steve?”

He has to look at you now. Your hair is in a bun that’s slowly falling, so he decides to watch that instead of the way your eyes are boring through him. “Yeah?”

You blow out a breath, looking at the hardwood. “Listen, Steve, I just- what are you doing?”

He doesn’t know what he’s doing. He wishes he could blame this on being drunk, but he hasn’t even finished his beer. Steve pushes a strand from your bun out of your face, and leans closer, your faces barely a hands-breadth apart. “Don’t make it complicated,” he whispers, and you can feel his breath on your cheek.

Suddenly his lips are on yours, and his hands are wrapping around your waist, and your world narrows to the warmth that radiates from every place he is touching you. You can already feel him pressing into you- he got hard the moment you walked out in his shirt. Thinking about anything else other than his hips moving flush against yours seems like a crime, but you can’t ignore the counter digging against her back. You inhale sharply as he presses you against it, a soft “ow” escaping your lips.

“Sorry,” he mumbles against you, shifting you up onto the counter. Steve is painfully aware of his pants and your lack thereof, and his fingers toy with the hem of your (his) shirt.

Your head tilts back as his mouth ghosts over your jawline. “Steve, Steve, please,”

He’s obsessed with the way his name sounds in your mouth, especially with his lips on your neck. Steve lets his fingers drift to her panties, and smiles at your sharp gasp. He’s thinking about pushing the fabric aside and dropping to his knees, but a light flicks on in one of the bedrooms.

There’s a tiny chorus of “Shit!” as you jump off the counter, and Steve leans onto the island attempting to look nonchalant. You lean against the fridge, and he gives you the courtesy of pretending not to notice the way you are crossing and uncrossing your legs as you stand. The movement of Steve readjusting himself catches your eye, and you feel a little bad for not giving him the same courtesy. Just a little, though.

Eddie comes strolling out of his bedroom, seeming not a care in the world. “You gotta start wearing pants,” he addresses you.

You rolls her eyes, rubbing your neck. It’s like Steve’s lips are still there, and you can’t get the feeling out of your head. “You’re literally in your boxers.”

“Well, my buttcheeks don’t hang out of my boxers.” Eddie pulls a waterbottle out of the fridge.

“This shirt literally covers my ass,” you mumble.

He just shrugs. “What are you doing up? It’s like three.”

“Wanted a snack,” You and Steve both say in unison.

“Looks like the snack would be each other,” Eddie says casually, not even looking at you as he raps on Robin’s door. “You owe me 20$!”

Some incoherent grumble comes from the room, followed by a very understandable “About damn time!”

Steve’s head turns quick to look at him, mouth slightly open. “She owes you twenty? Were you- what, betting on us?”

“Kind of,” Eddie calls back, turning to you right before he shuts his door. “Robin thought the two of you’d hook up on the couch first. I bet on the kitchen counter.”

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