#singledad!steve x reader

[eds6ngel]

Hello lovely I was hoping you could do a Steve with a kid fic! Reader is Steve’s kid’s teacher and they have a parent/teacher meeting and Steve falls for her!

Love you and your writing 💋

✎ when i kissed the teacher | part one

firstly, thank you so much for the compliment darling!! secondly, you are one lucky person as i've decided to make this into a multi-part series! i've always been a massive fan of dad!___ x reader, so i've taken it upon myself to create a series out of it! i'm aiming for four or five parts, but we will see where it takes us <33

warnings: dad!steve. singledad!steve. 90s!au. fem!reader. mentions of bad mother. deep talks about life. swearing. slow burn. mutual pining. pet names. fluff. comfort. steve's daughter is the cutest. more warnings as the chapters commence! [4.9k].

“All right my loves!” you yell calmly to the children, them waving at their parents from the glass window, the group excited to head home after a tough day of school. “Come and sit on the rug for me, I have one more thing for you all before you get to go home!”

A bunch of chatter and pattering feet can be heard as the six-year-olds bounce over to the colourful, spotted rug, each plopping themselves down and crossing their legs as they look up at you with eager eyes.

You cross your arms and put your finger up to your lips, the children copying you and nudging their friends to look up at you and replicate your action. The final kid finally turned his eyes towards you and copied you, you shaking your head and smiling, “What took you so long Harry?”

He frowns slightly, “I’m sorry Miss, I wasn’t paying attention.”

If there’s one thing you could call a success in your teaching, it would be the ability for your kids to reflect on where they went wrong. It was one of the most important things they could learn as they grow.

“It’s okay honey, just remember to use those listening ears to hear your friends quieten down next time, okay?”

He nods as all of the kids sit with their hands tucked between their crossed legs, you now knowing that everyone was completely focused. “Firstly,” you smile softly, “You have all made amazing progress today, I’m very proud of each and every one of you.”

You can see each of them smile brightly, bouncing in their sitting position, especially the less-able kids, they deserved some extra love with all the hard work they put in to improve.

“Secondly,” you say, leaning over and grabbing a neat stack of papers, “Next week is your parent-teacher meetings! So, I’m each going to give you a letter and I want you to give it to your mommy or daddy, okay?”

The children nod, you smiling and standing up, giving each of them a letter. Once you put the spare sheets on the side, you say to them, “Okay, as always, stay seated and I’ll call you up if I see your mommies or daddies, okay?”

You walk over to the window, peering out to see two different parents stood next to each other: Mr. Byers and Mr. Harrington. Mr. Harrington, who from day one insisted you call by his first name Steve, waved at you, you giving a small smile back as you turn towards both dad’s daughters, “Okay, Ashley! Alena! Your daddies are here!”

The two girls stand up, toddling over to their tables to grab their backpacks, you giggling to yourself as you see how huge they look on their small figures. Ashley is the first to stand in front of you, smiling as you open the door, “Go and see daddy. See you tomorrow!” you say, the girl rushing over as Mr. Byers picks his daughter up, grabbing the sheet she was holding in her hand and heading out of the gate.

As you turn your back, Alena is standing there, grinning at her dad through the open door. Alena was a spunky character. She was super friendly, always willing to help out the other kids and almost always had her hair styled in two un-even pigtails. But, she wasn’t fussed, her hair usually a mess by the end of the day after tumbling around on the grass in the playground. The amount of times you had to bring in the poor girl when she had scraped her knees or elbows was insane, but she always put a brave face on. She was a very cute kid and you were lucky you got to teach her.

“Hello!” you say, pretending to jump at her sudden presence, making the young girl giggle, “Oh, come here my love, your backpack strap is twisted.” You lean down and un-twist the purple backpack strap, swiping the few bread crumbs off of it as you signal to her dad. “There’s your dad, honey. Have a great rest of your day!”

She bounces over to her dad, smiling as she passes him the letter, him taking a quick glance over it as he realises what it was.

He had to spend time talking with you. Just you, him and Alena. Alone.

It was no doubt that Steve knew of his little crush on you. He tried his best to push it to the back of his mind, but with seeing your gorgeous face five times a week, how could he ever forget about your beauty?

Now, he had to practically spend time alone with you. Sure, it was still under professional circumstances, but how was he supposed to concentrate? It was a meeting to talk about his daughter’s school progress, yet his mind treated it like a first date.

Steve looks up from the sheet to see your back turned attending to the other students, Alena tugging at his leg, “Daddy, come on! I wanna go home!”

“Yeah, okay, okay,” he replies, waiting for the moment for you to turn to face the window again, which you do. He can’t stop staring at you as you give him a small wave, Alena waving back at you as you giggle, the girl not knowing that you were in fact waving at her dad, who weirdly couldn’t stop looking at you. Strange.

You divert your eyes to attend to the next kid, Steve snapping out of his trance as Alena continues tugging at his jeans. “Okay pumpkin, I’m going, I’m going.”

He grabs his daughter’s hand as he heads out to the gate, him trying to compose himself at the inevitability of you two talking in private. Hopefully his daughter being there would be enough of a distraction.

Until she wasn’t…

You were setting up your classroom for the day. It was the start of a brand new week, so you knew it was going to be a little bit more tough on your end to get the kids to be quiet. They had curious minds, so they would definitely want to go into excruciating detail about their weekends to their friends.

A knock on the door can be heard as you lay out a worksheet full of math problems on the children’s desks. You turn around, smiling as you see Alena standing there with her dad, sheet of paper held between her small hands. “Good morning Mr. Harrington, and good morning to you too Alena!” you brightly say, her dad replying, “Please, just call me Steve.”

“Well,” you chuckle, “Good morning Steve and Alena. How was your guys’ weekend?” you ask, turning your back as you put out the final worksheets.

“Daddy and I went to the aquarium!” she beams.

“Ooh, that sounds like fun!” you smile widely, “Did you see lots of fish and sea creatures?”

“Uh huh!” she chirps, “I saw clownfish and seahorses and turtles and octopuses!”

“That sounds like you had a great time! But, remember, what do some plural nouns end in?” you ask her, trying to correct her on her simple mistake. Even you didn’t have the answer to why some end in ‘I’ instead of ‘Us,’ it was just another weird variation of the English language.

“Um…” she thinks, “They end in ‘I?’”

“Good job! So, it wouldn’t be octopuses, it would be…”

“Octopi!” she smiles brightly.

You put your last worksheet down as you walk over and ruffle her hair, “Well done!” You look down to the sheet of paper in her hand, “And what is this?” you ask, taking it from her delicate hands.

“Parent-teacher meeting letter,” Steve tells you, “Is it alright if I bring her along? I chose some of the earliest slots as it’s just easier for me to come straight from work to here instead of hiring a babysitter. But, if you just want parents alone, I’ll get a friend to pick her up.”

“No, it’s totally fine Mr. Har— Excuse me, Steve,” you reply, “I’m sure a lot of parents are in the same position as you. You can totally bring her along! It’s also an opportunity for her to hear how she can improve first hand, which is great. So…” you mumble, walking over to your computer and opening up Excel, “Alena… 3:45PM. Is it just you coming or is your wife coming also?”

He freezes up at the mention of his ex. His ex-girlfriend’s name wasn’t on the school system at all as he frankly has nothing to do with her. But, you’re Alena’s teacher, how were you supposed to know his life history? Steve stutters as he thinks of a reply, “I, um… I don’t have a wife…” Shit. Not the answer.

“Oh my Gosh,” you frantically say, looking up at him where he had now entered the classroom and was stood in front of your desk, “I am so sorry. I’ve been so busy that I haven’t had the chance to go through the student’s personal files yet. I apologise for assuming, I really am.”

God, you were too kind. It just made you all the more attractive.

“It’s okay,” Steve sighs, “It’s not even on the record. Well, her mother isn’t mentioned on there for… reasons, so it’s fine really.”

You sympathetically smile, “I may teach children Steve, but I know when an adult is hiding a pain too. Whatever happened, I truly am sorry, and you shouldn’t have to pretend that everything is okay to make others feel comfortable.”

He knew you were right. But, you were the first person to ever say it out loud. To be completely honest with him. No beating around the bush and just accepting his passiveness, you understood how he felt about Alena’s mother, even without the backstory. You’re exactly the kind of person he needs in his life.

You turn your head, sighing with a smile, your head leaning against your intertwined hands. Alena was sat at her desk, grabbing a piece of paper and a couple of crayons from the centre and doodling away. It was a rule in your classroom that no kid was to start their early morning worksheet before the bell rang. That way, no kid felt left behind.

“She’s such a good kid,” you smile, “She’s kind and brave and always completes her work. I’ll obviously tell you more of that on Wednesday, but you’ve done an amazing job raising her, especially as a single dad. I hope you know that.”

Steve looks into your gorgeous eyes, fumbling over his words, stunned at the comments that easily flow out of your mouth. You weren’t afraid to be kind, and that was a beautiful quality. “I try my best,” he awkwardly says, not used to the compliments, “I have a hard time accepting that, but, thank you anyway.”

“Of course,” you softly reply, “You deserve to hear it.”

The two of you stay in silence, the quiet sound of Alena’s crayons scraping across her paper being the only noise in the brightly decorated classroom. Steve rubs the back of his neck and coughs, “Well, I should get going. Head to work and all…” he says, pointing his thumb behind him towards the door.

“Uh, yeah…” you awkwardly reply, “Don’t want you to be late,” you quietly laugh.

“I’ll see you later,” he finalises, referring to when he would pick up his daughter at the end of the day. You nod, Steve heading over to Alena and asking for a kiss which she gives him, before he turns around and heads towards the door, exiting the classroom.

You sit there in contemplation, how did you compliment him so easily? You didn’t do that to other parents, and you knew that a few of them were single moms. Why just him? Why did you feel different towards him?

Steve was feeling a similar way as he pushed the door open out to the main entrance. He swore he wasn’t going crazy, he felt something between the two of you. It couldn’t have just been his crush on his daughter’s school teacher convincing him that. He’s dated women in the past and even they haven’t complimented him to that extent. Even the women he tried to date as Alena was growing up hadn’t dared say anything complimentary about his parenting skills. You were different. You showed him the kind of praise he always wanted.

He was falling in love with his daughter’s teacher.

Your day had gone pretty well. As predicted, the students were extra chatty because of their busy weekends, but you didn’t mind. All of them getting along with minimum bullying in your class is what made you most proud. If they were kind to each other, a little extra talking was good for the mind. They were developing, which means their brains were super busy. It was a sign of healthiness.

All of the parents had shown up on time to collect their kids, which was the biggest accomplishment for you. Usually, at least one parent was running late, so you had to take on the task of guiding them to the front desk to wait for their mom or dad. But, today you were free, meaning you got to go home a little earlier, or so you thought.

As you led the last kid out to their parent, you shut the door, beginning to tidy up the classroom before you drive home. However, a faint knock can be heard against the glass, you turning to see Steve and Alena patiently waiting outside, his larger hand holding her smaller one.

You open the door, you smiling and saying, “Hi guys!” Steve speaking up, “Hi, um… I know you’ve probably filled up a lot of your slots by now, but is it okay if I could change the time for our parent-teacher meeting? Work asked me to stay an extra two hours.”

“Of course!” you reply, walking over to your desk, “I’ve shut down the computer for now, but I’ll make a note in my planner, okay? I keep everything stored twice in case this thing decides to play up.”

“Sounds great.”

You flip through the pages, finding Wednesday’s date and opening the cap to your pen, “Okay. How late are we talking?”

“You have anything after 6PM?” Steve asks, “I can do slightly earlier if it’s a problem for you, but I don’t want to accidentally run late and mess everything up.”

“Not to worry,” you reply, “I’m pretty sure I have after six,” you look down through the list, finding some empty slots after 6PM, “Yes, I do. I have 6:15 and 6:25. Any preference?”

“6:15 would be great, thank you,” he says with a sigh, thankful that his change of work schedule hasn’t messed up yours. You cross out Steve’s 3:45 appointment and re-write him in for 6:15, making sure to update that in the school system tomorrow.

“Also,” he starts, “Is it alright if I get my friend Robin to pick up Alena on Wednesday?”

“Um…” you think, “If you could give me a description of them, that would be helpful. You know, keeping the kids safe and all. Don’t want to give your daughter to any stranger who claims they are your friend, you know?”

“No, I totally get it,” he replies, “She has a dirty blonde coloured hair that, I guess is shoulder length? She has a fringe too, slight wave to her hair. A little shorter than me, so I guess like 5’9-ish. Blue eyes, freckles on her face, she had black painted nails the last time I saw her which was like three days ago. Is that good enough?”

“Yes, let me just write it down so I don’t forget. I’ll confirm with Alena on the day anyway, she’ll probably be excited to see her,” you say, making a note underneath your column of parent-teacher meeting times.

“Oh yeah,” Steve chuckles, “She calls her Auntie Robin, so if she yells that, you have the right person.”

“Great,” you smile, mumbling out, “Okay… Alena picked up by ‘Auntie’ Robin — short, dark blonde hair with fringe, blue eyes, freckles, black nails. Okay, all written down.”

“Thank you,” Steve breathes out, “I’m still on for dropping her off tomorrow and Wednesday, it’s just picking her up Wednesday afternoon that’s the change. Hope it’s not too much of a fuss.”

You wave your hand, “You’re fine, trust me. It’s only one day, you pick her up every single other day on time. Plus, you told me in advance, which many parents have failed to do in the past,” you softly laugh, reminding yourself of the endless days of random people claiming they’ve come to pick up a certain child, you having to go through the endless hassle of contacting the parent to confirm the stranger is who they claim they are.

“Yeah, well, I thought it was best you should know. Hawkins is a scary place, I’m sure you’re well aware,” he awkwardly smiles, trying not to focus of the events that happened just under ten years ago.

“Yeah, not got the best reputation around here,” you laugh, brushing your hair behind your ear. “Well, I guess I will see you in the morning.”

Steve smiles, lifting Alena up onto his hip, “You will. And again, thank you for letting me change the time.”

“No problem at all,” you smile, “Bye Steve. Bye Alena!” you shout, her giving you a big smile and a wave from over Steve’s shoulder. God, she was a cute kid. And her father… Well, he wasn’t bad-looking either.

The parent-teacher meetings had been going well so far. You had conversations with parents that were brave, their kids little mini-me’s of them, to kids you just wanted to save from the inevitable attitude they would someday inherit from their parents. As a teacher, it sometimes felt that you were becoming the mother that the children wish they had.

No parent had actually booked after 6:15, so Steve was your final parent to speak with, and you couldn’t wait to gush about how beautiful of a girl Alena was.

As you bid farewell to Mr. and Mrs. Cromwell, you sigh in your seat, leaning far back and placing your hands on your face. A voice interrupts you, “Not the nicest, huh?”

You move your hands away, leaning forward once again and softly laughing, “Yeah, bit of a silver spoon shoved up there.”

Steve enters the classroom and takes a seat in front of your desk, “I hate parents like that. I heard them from outside saying that you were lying about Rhys. Like, come on man, just accept that your child has flaws. You didn’t even say anything bad!” he exclaims, arms flailing up in the air.

“Right?” you smile widely, “All I said is he needs to improve on his spelling and suddenly I’m the worst person in the world. I never even said it was a bad thing, they came to that conclusion. I don’t expect every child to be perfect at everything, I wouldn’t even say that about Alena, it’s normal for children to have a few tough spots in their education.”

Steve softly smiles, “Well, you’re lucky I won’t complain even if Alena was bad at everything.”

You laugh, “I certainly won’t be doing that. Speaking of, shall we start?”

“Of course.”

“Okay,” you say, flipping through your grade sheets and coming across Alena’s name, “Firstly, grades. I don’t really do a typical grade system, your A-F kind of thing, I actually do it in stars. A bit weird, I know, but it actually helps the kids understand their current learning levels, so I just adopt it as well,” you smile.

Steve grinned at your explanation, actually preferring your way of grading. So what if it was weird? It was different, and he liked that.

“Her spelling is spectacular, 10/10 on her spelling bee last week, 9/10 the week before. Pretty consistent in the top levels there. That would land her in adult talk around an A, so that’s five stars in child’s talk,” you say, turning the page over to the reading section, “Are you aware of our reading levels?”

He furrows his eyebrows, “I can’t remember what the highest level is again.”

“Not to worry,” you reply, looking him in the eye, “So we do levels 1-6. One obviously being the lowest, six being the highest. Six is very rare in this class, just for warning. I think I only have two students on level six, so don’t panic that Alena’s not there yet. She’s on level four, which is just above average, a B grade if you will. Plenty of room for improvement, so I’m not overwhelmingly worried.”

Steve laughs, “Definitely a change from me. I can’t spell for shit,” he freezes, “Sorry, I shouldn’t curse, should I?”

You chuckle, “We’re technically out of school hours, curse all you want honey.”

Honey. That was new.

“Now,” you say, flipping over to the next page, “She is struggling a little with math. I’ve noticed that she gets her numbers confused around a little. When counting on her fingers, sometimes she skips a number or goes ‘3, 2, 3.’ And that has sadly affected her in other subjects. We sometimes do timelines in history, and her switching up of numbers means she’ll put a date from the 1500’s in front of the 1600’s. So, she’s currently on two stars, which is sadly a D in normal grades. But, it is only simple mistakes. If she doesn’t get those numbers mixed up, she’ll naturally bump herself up to a B, possibly even an A. I was wondering if you could help me out with this next part.”

“Of course,” Steve replies, “Anything to help my pumpkin.”

You smiled to yourself. What a cute nickname.

You pass him over a couple sheets of paper, “Since I have fifteen kids to teach, sometimes it’s a little hard to notice the mistakes Alena is making before I mark her work, and the markings do equate to the grades. So, I have some math problems here, and I was wondering if you could maybe help her at home? Try and get her out of the habit of skipping numbers or mixing them up. That way, if you know they’re right, you can bring them in, I’ll mark them, and they’ll bump up her grade. Also, the affect of you getting her out of the habit will probably help her in class too.”

He takes the sheets off of you, “Totally, I’m on it. She’s still doing better than I ever did at school, so that’s always a bonus,” he slightly chuckles.

You smile, shaking your head, “To be honest, as humans, we’re not supposed to be good at everything. I shouldn’t really tell you my thoughts on this, but the education system is designed for competition. The idea is that kids are supposed to be good at everything, which is utter bullshit to me. Alena is probably just not gifted at math, and that’s okay.” You sigh, “But, because of the system design, if she wants to graduate first grade, she’ll need to get at least a C in math.”

Steve smirks, “Ain’t that the truth. But, I understand. Math homework will be on the agenda for this weekend,” he smiles.

You close your book, “That’s the main grades done. Writing is also very on point, she can trace the letters almost perfectly. It’s just removing that guide now and seeing how she does without it,” you smile.

“Great,” Steve agrees.

“Now, I’ve done this with every parent tonight, so I’m just going to talk about how Alena is as a growing human, because no amount of grades will ever outweigh personality, and it definitely won’t for Alena. She’s is such a sweet girl. She’s always willing to help others, easily makes friends due to her kind persona and has really respectable manners,” you explain, “I mean, you saw what she was like on Monday morning. Instantly came in, followed my rules about not starting any tasks until the bell rings, and just sat there drawing. She’s amazing at being honest and respectful, but also has just enough spunkiness to set her apart in a crowd. What I’m saying is, you’ve done an amazing job raising her Steve, and I’m sure she gets her beautiful personality from you.”

Steve can’t help but let a small blush rise to his cheeks at your compliments. Again, it was just something about you. You take notice, but don’t point it out, smiling widely at his reaction.

Steve sighs happily, “Well, I’m glad she’s like that. I wasn’t the most… nicest person at school. I let the popularity get to my head, all that shit. Treated everyone lower than me like they were a second-class citizen. Even did that to Jonathan, Mr. Byers, for a while. His wife is actually my ex,” he chuckles, “She pretty much got me out of that shitty popularity ordeal. So, I think I just want my daughter to be the opposite of me. Be the me I could’ve been when I was younger, you know?”

You nod, “I get that. I’ve learnt that parenting can either be one of two things: you don’t want your kids to end up like you, or you want them to be exactly like you. Based on how you described yourself, I’m glad you chose the first option. Although,” you shrug your shoulders, “I would give yourself some credit. It seems like you’ve done the inner healing and reflection to give your daughter a chance to become a kind human being. A shit person can’t create a nice one.”

“Yeah,” he thinks, “Maybe you’re right. I do still say mean stuff every now and again. Judge people before knowing them, all that kind of shit. I’m not proud of it, but it’s just engrained into me by now.”

You look into his eyes, “I think that’s more a generational thing. I mean, I try my best to see why people act the way they do, but even I judge people. What I said for Alena also applies for you too, Steve. Humans aren’t meant to be this definition of perfect. We’re always gonna have a flaw. You can try and work on it as much as you want, but there’s only so far you can go. Sometimes, it’s just easier to accept that’s who you are and it’s actually doing you more harm than good the more you critique yourself for it.”

You were so goddamn smart. You couldn’t have been more than twenty five years old, and yet, you had a better understanding of life than he ever did. Maybe it was seeing life through a kid’s lens, but he feels that can’t be all to the intellect. Life experiences make you understand the world. It sure helped him understand it. He was intrigued. He wanted to understand your mind, get to know you better than just his daughter’s teacher. You were such a beautiful soul and had such a fascinating mind.

Steve has no words as he stares at you in awe, unaware that he hadn’t even said anything as you clear your throat, “Um… anyway…” you begin, grounding Steve back to reality, “Do you have any questions for me?”

His mind did go to asking you out on a date. But, you were his daughter’s teacher, was that even allowed? Was that breaching any rules or codes?

And little did he know you were asking yourself the same questions. Your brain was itching to research into the questions. Why did he have to be one of your student’s dads?

“Uh, no, no I don’t,” he stutters out, taking this as a queue for him to leave as he raises from his chair. You hold out your hand, him taking it as you shake it, each basking in the warmness of the other’s palm.

“Well, thank you Steve for being here. I usually do another one of these around March time, so I hope to see you here for one of these again then!” you smile.

“Of course,” he replies, “But, really I should be thanking you. Supporting me and all when I basically rambled about my life.”

“Just because it’s a parent-teacher meeting doesn’t mean I have to lose all my kindness to be professional,” you sympathetically say.

Steve hums in agreement, you weren’t completely wrong. He’d take you any day to compliment and uplift him. If only he could somehow have that…

“Yeah… Well, see you tomorrow morning,” he smiles, turning his back and heading out the classroom door.

You stand up and start to pack away your folders and planners into your bag, thinking about Steve. You could tell that he wanted to change, wanted to shape his daughter into the man he never was. Give her the opportunity he only wished he had. But, there was something about him. Sure, he had a gorgeous mop of hair and the prettiest hazel eyes, but there was something inside too. A sense of kindness, warmth, comfort. Something you’d never felt so intensely with a man before.

Shit. You were falling for your student’s father.

thank you for reading!! i can't wait to write for the rest of it! i'll try and get a chapter out every few days amongst other smaller fics, so please be patient <;33

→ next chapter.

[eddiemunsons80sbaby]

Never Say Never

Chapter 1

Pairing: SingleDad!StevexReader

Summary: You are a 32 year old single mother, raising your seven year old son on your own. After being widowed at 30 and going out on awful dates with disgusting men for the past month, you have decided that you're giving up. You already had your great love. One person can't possibly get lucky enough to have two in their lifetime. But then your son starts playing baseball and the coach might just change your mind about that.

No posting schedule. With also writing Everybody Hurts, I don't want to make promises and fall behind. I'm a working mom with a hectic life and don't always have time to write every single day. I've been wanting to write this Steve book forever and once I got the first chapter down, I couldn't wait to share it.

18+ only for eventual smut

Word Count: 4.3K

“No, Janice, it’s absolutely hopeless. I am telling you. I’m done with dating,” you sighed as you wiped the crumbs off the table and into your hand from Eli’s after school snack. 

Making your way to the garbage can, you brushed them in. Grabbing the empty cup of chocolate milk, you popped it into the dishwasher, trying to stay on top of things so you didn’t have to do a last minute clean-up when all you wanted to do was go to bed.

“You can’t just give up,” your friend urged. “Come on, girl. You’ve only been on a few dates so far. I know they’ve been duds but the right guy is out there. I know he is.”

“I really don’t think he is. I’ve been on four dates in the last month and they have all been awful. And I only went on those dates because you’ve been pushing me to put myself out there, might I remind you. I was perfectly content with my life the way it was. The only guy I need in my life is my son. I’m telling you. Good guys don’t exist.”

“Except you know that’s not true because you had one.”

Your heart stuttered in your chest at the reminder. That familiar pain that tightened its hold until you felt you couldn’t breathe. It didn’t matter that it had been two years. Any mention of Justin’s name and you were instantly sent straight back there, struggling, fighting for air you couldn’t find, descending into the pitch black of despair that had swallowed you whole for far too long. 

But you couldn’t let it consume you, not anymore. You knew what you needed to do. Remembering your therapist’s words, you didn’t fight it back, letting the pain wash over you for a moment. Accept your emotions. It’s okay to feel them. Let them come, acknowledge them, and then move on. Don’t get stuck. Forward motion. Always forward motion. Remember the 3-3-3 rule when it gets overwhelming.

Your eyes roamed through your kitchen, searching for three objects. The box of Scooby snacks that Eli had, the smiling face of his favorite cartoon dog looking up at you. The tulips on the table that you'd picked from your garden two days ago, bringing a little spring into the house. The bright painting to the left of the fridge that Eli had made for Mother’s Day last year, his handprints creating bright yellow and orange flowers, with the words If mothers were flowers, I’d pick you.

You felt yourself returning from the dark, your chest loosening as you closed your eyes, focusing on sounds now. Your son’s feet moving across the floor of his bedroom, a lawnmower running a couple houses down, the low rumble of a motorcycle driving down the street. 

It was working. You wiggled your fingers, rotated your ankle, rolled your head around on your shoulders. 3-3-3. Three sights, three sounds, and three movements. And just like that, you were back. Hand on the table, you slowly sat down in one of the wooden chairs you'd so lovingly sanded and refinished the summer after you and Justin bought this house, opening your eyes. You were centered. You were okay. You were moving forward whether you wanted to or not.

He was gone. There was no changing that. And as much as you'd wanted to curl up and die after it happened, you knew you couldn’t. You had Eli, this sweet little soul who depended on you, who was hurting too, and you had to be what he needed. You had to pull yourself out of your grief to be the stability and strength he needed. Fake it until you make it, right? That had worked for a while until it didn’t.

“Hello?” your friend’s voice called through the receiver. “Hey, are you okay? Is it happening again? Do I need to come over? Come on. Just say something, honey.”

“No. No. I’m okay.” Your fingers pressed gently against your forehead, wondering if it would ever get easier. Everyone said it would and sometimes you could even go hours without thinking about him but when you did, it would all come crashing down around you. He’d left you alone, alone to care for your son, alone for eternity based on the dating pool out there. “Sorry. I just…I’m fine.”

“You sure? Because I’ve already got my keys in my hand and I can be there in ten minutes.”

You smiled. Of course Janice already had her keys in her hand. She was your lighthouse in a storm, your safe harbor, your source of encouragement and support. She’d been there to pick you up when you could barely lift your head. She’d been the one to convince you to go to therapy. She’d been the one to come over and cook dinner for Eli, playing games with him, amusing him so he wouldn’t notice that mommy was falling apart in your bedroom on days when you just couldn’t find the strength. Janice was your lifeline and you had no idea where you would be without her. You certainly wouldn’t be the functioning human being you were right now. 

“No. Really. I promise you, Janice. I am fine.”

“Okay…but you know I’ve always got you. Just say the word, girl and I’m there. Anytime. Anything you need.”

“I know. And I love you so much for it.”

“I love you,” Janice stated. “You’re my soulmate, you know.”

You laughed, “What about Matt? I don’t think he’d appreciate hearing you say that.”

Your friend snorted, “Oh, he knows. It was part of our vows. Didn’t you know that? He took this woman and her best friend on the day we got married. He’s aware of his place in my life and he’s okay with it because he loves you too. Also, he doesn’t have a choice because he knows I’d get rid of him before I’d ever let go of you if he tried to make me choose. You’re always my first choice.”

Matt would never make her choose. Janice had met Matt a little over a year ago and they had just gotten married in July. It had been a beautiful outdoor wedding on the beach. You'd been the maid of honor. Janice hadn’t even asked you, not really, just rolled her eyes when you asked if she planned on it and said she didn’t have to ask because it should have been assumed. Eli had been so handsome in his little tux as their ring bearer. You had fought back tears throughout the day, memories of your own wedding day ripping you apart. But you'd held it together, reminding yourself that this was your friend’s day. You were supposed to be overjoyed for her, not wallowing as you tripped down memory lane. 

You loved Matt and the feeling appeared to be mutual. He was perfect for your best friend. He was the rational to Aly’s crazy, the simple to her complicated, the organization to her chaos. He was absolutely crazy about her and every single one of her little quirks, including her intensely close friendship with you and Eli. He’d been openly accepting of you being their third wheel from day one.

They’d only gone on five dates when he offered to take Eli to the batting cages for a few hours so the girls could enjoy an afternoon. When Eli got back, red-faced and shiny, a huge smile on his face, you had given your friend a look that said everything without you having to speak. It said hold onto this one. And your friend had been smart enough to do just that. They were already talking about trying for a baby and you couldn’t wait to plan a shower and shop for all the cute little baby things. To be Auntie, to cuddle a sweet little one against your chest again, to inhale that delicious newborn smell.

Everyone always said it went by too fast. You'd thought they were crazy when you were in the midst of sleepless nights and a screaming baby, feeling it would never end. But they were not joking. Your sweet little baby, with his head of downy blond hair, just like his father’s, had somehow become a little boy in what felt like a span of seven minutes instead of seven years. You found yourself willing time to slow down, to let you keep him little for just a while longer, but it just kept racing ahead, leaving you frantically trying to catch up.

“So, anyway, what was so awful about this one?” Janice asked, bringing you back to the present moment.

“Ugh…what wasn’t awful? He showed up to the restaurant already drunk. He kept trying to touch me, stroking my arm and placing his hands on my thigh. He kept slurring about how he was going to show me the night of my life. He ordered spaghetti and was eating it with his fingers, just picking up the noodles and dropping them into his mouth. It was disgusting. His hand was in a cast and when I asked what happened, he told me he broke it punching out the car window of his ex because he caught her cheating on him last week.”

“Holy shit!”

“Seriously! I can’t make this stuff up, Janice. It’s so bad out here. I don’t know why women even bother trying. From the guy who seemed okay until I walked into his place and he had the pile of toenail clippings on his coffee table to the guy who asked for the barista’s number while I was standing next to him to the guy who invited his ex so she’d see him with me to this guy, I’m just done. Maybe we only get one shot at real love in our lives and Justin was mine. Maybe that’s all I get. I mean, it was only ten years but a decade of happiness is more than some people get. Shouldn’t I be happy with that?”

“No. I refuse to believe that,” Janice argued. “You are far too amazing to spend the rest of your life alone.”

“I’m not alone. I have you and Eli.”

“Yes, but one day, Eli will be all grown up and move out and start a life of his own. And yes, you will always have me but do you really want to live in that house all by yourself? Don’t you want someone to fall asleep next to, someone to wake up next to, someone to rub your feet after a long day, someone to be your person?”

“You’re my person. Justin was my person.”

“Oh, honey…”

“Janice, I just…this dating site thing isn’t for me.”

God, it was so awful. With the birth of the internet, online dating was a fairly new thing. But when you weren't getting e-mailed dick pics or getting asked if you were looking for a booty call, then you were getting tricked by guys who acted like they were normal until you met them and found out they were anything but.

“Okay. So, ditch the dating site. Honestly, it probably wasn’t the best idea but Lauren was going on and on about these hot guys she’d met on there. She said it was like a pond full of fish and any woman could have her pick of them. I figured it would be worth a shot. At least, it would be a good place to start. I should have known better. It’s Lauren. She’ll hook up with anybody and gets bored way too easily. I am sure a different guy every night is exactly what she’s looking for. Maybe you just need to meet someone more organically?”

You sighed, “And how exactly do you think I’m going to do that between work and Eli? I don’t have a lot of down time.”

“No, I know, but maybe try to pop into the coffee shop more or the bookstore? I mean, you could do the bar but you’re more likely to find a sleaze who’s just looking for a one night stand or the guy with the tan line where his ring should be. Lord knows I’ve made that mistake more than once. But a bookstore, a coffee shop, the library? You might find a nice guy there, an intellectual who reads and writes poetry in his spare time. Oh! Maybe find your own Mr. Coulson.”

“Except I’ve actually been kissed and I am not a reporter and I definitely am not passing for a high school student,” you laughed, remembering how in love you and Janice had been last year in the theater. “And trust me, Michael Vartan is not teaching at the local high school.”

“Okay, fair enough. But don’t give up. You deserve the world, my friend. You deserve a man who looks at you like you’re the moon and stars because you are. I know he’s out there.”

“Janice, I…”

“Mommy! You have to take me to baseball practice, remember?”

Your eyes shot over to your son and then up to the clock. You'd completely forgotten. After Matt had gotten him into baseball, he’d begged you to let him join the little league team this year at school. You'd dreaded having to lug him to practices and games, giving up what little free time you had, but you could never deny your son anything. Their first practice started in fifteen minutes and now you were going to be late. Just one more reason for the mothers in this town to judge you and your inability to do it all as a single mom.

“Shit! Janice, I have to go. Eli has baseball.”

“Okay. Ohh, maybe you’ll find a hot single dad.”

“Oh my god. Good bye,” you huffed, hanging up. Your brain raced, thinking back to the paper that had come home with him about practices. What did he need to bring? “Okay, okay. Eli, go grab your mitt and I’ll fill up a water bottle for you.”

Your son raced off up the stairs and you groaned, knowing he’d probably be yelling down to you in two minutes that he couldn’t find it. You grabbed his bright blue water bottle, quickly filling it with tap water. Was there anything else? You smacked your forehead loudly. Cleats! You were supposed to buy him baseball cleats and you hadn’t. 

“Mommy! I can’t find my glove!”

You closed your eyes, inhaling slowly through your nose before making your way to the stairs, “I’ll find it. Just change into your athletic pants and a long sleeve shirt. And grab a sweatshirt, honey. It’s kind of chilly out today.”

Eli sat on the floor, pulling his pants on, when you entered the room. Your eyes did a quick scan, instantly finding the glove, lying on the floor right next to his bed. With a small smile and a shake of your head, you bent down and grabbed it, tossing it to your son just as he stood up, all dressed and ready. 

“Ready to go?”

“But my shoes. I don’t have baseball shoes!” he yelled, pointing at his feet as if you weren't aware. 

“I know buddy. I’m sorry. Mommy forgot but I will stop tomorrow right after work and grab you a pair, okay?”

“But then I won’t be ready for baseball! All the other kids are going to have the right shoes and I won’t!”

“Eli, we don’t have time to stop at the store right now or you’ll be late.” You walked up to your son, cradling his face, your favorite face in the world. Cobalt blue eyes, so like his father’s gazed up at you, anxious about not fitting in, not having the right things. “Look, I will explain to your coach. I’m sure he will understand.”

“He’s really nice. He’s Jeremiah’s dad. I like Jeremiah. He’s my best friend. We play superheroes at recess all the time. He’s Superman and I’m Batman. And sometimes we swap lunches because his dad always packs peanut butter and jelly and you always pack bologna and sometimes we like to switch. I asked you if he could come over and play and you said maybe but he’s never come over. Remember?”

You winced at your son’s words. It came back to you, months ago, Eli asking if his new best friend could come over to your house. You'd said maybe, the answer you gave when you didn’t have one or you were too busy to stop and really answer him. Being a single parent was hard. It was exhausting, often leaving you feeling like there wasn’t enough of you to go around. 

“I’m sorry, buddy. I shouldn’t have said maybe and then forgotten about it. I’ll talk to his parents about it after practice today, okay? Now, come on. Let’s get going so you’re not too late.”

__________________________________________________________

You barely had the car in park before Eli was jumping out, racing across the pavement, eager to join his teammates on the diamond. You made your way over, taking in the gathering of young players, the air full of energy and excitement. Bringing a hand up to cover your eyes against the glaringly bright spring sun, you watched as Eli ran up to a young boy with a full head of caramel brown hair. 

That must be Jeremiah. Wow, that kid was going to be all the girls could talk about when he got older with a head of hair like that. Eli pointed at him with a huge grin and you gave your son a thumbs up, letting him know you'd seen. He would never let you forget it if you didn’t follow through on setting up a playdate. 

“Aly! Hey! Eli’s playing this year?”

“Oh, hi Tracy,” you replied with a smile as Jackson’s mom walked up with a coffee in hand. “Yeah. Janice’s husband, Matt, has really gotten him into baseball and he was so excited to play.”

“It’s so good that he has someone to stand in as a strong male role model in his life. You know, with his dad gone and everything.”

Your teeth gritted, the smile you were working so hard to keep plastered on your face now painful. Of course. You couldn’t possibly be enough for your son. He had to have a man in his life to be whole. It didn’t matter that you worked your ass off to make sure that your son never went without. It didn’t matter that you'd had to step up and work even harder, take on the job of two people. It would never be enough. 

“Yeah, we’re really grateful for Matt. He’s really great. Eli just adores him.”

Tracy leaned in, looking like the cat who got the cream, your faults as a mother forgotten. “Have you seen the baseball coach?”

“No. I…I just got here but I do need to talk to him. Eli’s become best friends with his son this year and he’s never going to let me live it down if I don’t don’t talk to him about Jeremiah coming over to our house to play.”

“Lucky you. I’d do anything for Jackson to come play at our house if it meant his dad would come over to play too.”

“Umm…aren’t you married?”

Tracy laughed, shrugging, “I mean, what Tom doesn’t know won’t hurt him, right? Seriously, wait until you see this guy. I am talking about grade A beefcake, honey.” She rolled her eyes, her head following, over to the right where a man was bent forward, pulling baseballs out of a bucket. “I just want to take a bite out of it. Have you ever seen anything so delicious?”

“Ooh! Are we talking about the coach?” asked Lilian as she idled up, her tongue running along her upper lip. “Have you ever seen such a delectable slice of cake in your life?”

You grimaced. No, they weren’t wrong. The ass that was currently up in the air, making it impossible for you not to notice, was quite nice. No. That wasn’t fair. There wasn’t a Georgia peach in existence that could outdo the one in front of you. He filled out a pair of jeans better than most women did. However, the way these women were drooling over him was pathetic. They were married. They were moms. And this guy, no matter how great his ass was, was a person. He wasn’t some piece of meat to be ogled. 

“Well, thanks for pointing him out to me. I think I’m going to try to talk to him before he gets busy,” you said, eager to get away from these bored, spoiled housewives who were looking for excitement to fill their monotonous days. Striding over to him, you paused, realizing you had no idea what his name was. “Uh…excuse me? Coach?”

He straightened and turned and you gasped. Oh hell. The front view was even better than the back. Two eyes, the color of honey, peered down at you, coating you in their sticky sweetness, filling your mouth, making it impossible to speak. Jeremiah came by that head of hair honestly, this man's caramel locks falling effortlessly around his face. He smiled and it was even worse, lightning striking you where you stood. His entire face was pure sunshine, warming you from the inside out. 

“Yeah?” he encouraged when you hadn’t said anything. 

“Uh…oh…I’m so sorry,” you stammered, eyes closing, shaking your head. What the hell was wrong with you right now? “I’m Eli’s mom, Y/N.”

His eyes lit up with recognition, his hand running through those beautiful locks. Another lightning strike, but in an entirely different place, when you realized how large his hands were. Long thick fingers that had you thinking things you really should not be while standing at a child’s little league practice. Shame filled you as you realized you were no better than those moms you'd just judged. You simple weren't saying your thoughts out loud.

“Oh! Of course. Jeremiah talks about Eli non-stop. He’s been bugging me for months to have him come over.”

“Well, that’s actually why I came over to talk to you. Eli’s been bugging me too and I promised him that I wouldn’t leave practice without setting up something with you. So…is there any time over the next week that works for Jeremiah to come play?”

“What works for you?”

“Any afternoon or evening is okay, as long as there’s no practice. But of course then Jeremiah would be unavailable too so that would be silly. And obviously, you’d be coaching so you know when there’s practice. But I, yeah, anyway, I work in a pediatrician’s office and I get off at three every day so that I can get Eli from school. So, I am available for a date. I mean, for the playdate. For the kids. To have a playdate. At my house.”

The corner of his mouth curved into an amused smile and you just wanted a hole to open up in the dirt and swallow you. Why were you tongue twisted like a fifteen year old girl who was trying to talk to the cutest guy at school? You were a thirty-two year old woman. You'd been a wife. You were a mother. You were a nurse. You were educated. You'd gone to college. You should be able to string words together to make a coherent sentence. 

“How about tomorrow?” he asked and you noticed how his eyes flitted down to your left hand, your recently bare ring finger. You'd removed it a month ago when Janice had kindly urged you it was well past time. “I actually have a meeting tomorrow night and my best friend is busy so I have no one to watch Jermiah. If you wouldn’t mind him coming your way for a couple hours, it would really help me out.”

“Oh, no. That would be fine. What time?”

You did not focus on the fact that he needed a babysitter. You did not think about how it sounded like Jeremiah’s mom wasn’t in the picture. You definitely did not feel a thrill that made your stomach flip at the thought of what that could mean for you. Nope. No reason for you to care if he had a woman in his life. 

“Four thirty? My meeting is at five. It shouldn’t take more than an hour so I should be there by six thirty.”

“Four thirty is great. I’ll make the boys dinner and I’m sure they’ll be more than happy to have a couple hours to play. No need to rush or anything.”

His head tilted, tongue tracing his bottom lip, one eyebrow lifting, “Or I could grab a pizza on my way over. You know, as a thank you for helping me out and everything.”

“Oh…” Your stomach twisted at his words, the drop on the roller coaster, plunging fast, fear and excitement colliding within you at the thought of him hanging out at your house. The two of you sitting at your kitchen table, sharing food, talking. Those warm eyes, like the earth when the sun comes up in the morning, staring into yours. “That would be nice. I mean, Eli will be ecstatic. He would eat pizza every night if I’d let him.”

“Great.” He flashed you that smile again and you swayed on your feet, completely dazzled by that flash of white teeth, the way his eyes crinkled in the corners. 

“Daddy! Come on! Stop talking! We’re ready for practice!” 

“Duty calls,” he joked, wiggling his eyebrows as he leaned in, his mouth so close to yours that you could smell the peppermint gum on his breath. “We’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah…see you tomorrow.” You stood, frozen as you watched him make his way toward the group of second graders eager to start running around the bases. No, you definitely were not checking out his ass again. Nope. Definitely not. It suddenly hit you that you still didn’t know his name. Cupping your hands around your mouth, you yelled, “I didn’t get your name!”

He turned, grinning, “Steve! Steve Harrington!”

Chapter 2

[retrodreamgirl]

the games that play us | steve harrington x fem!reader

part 1 | part 2

summary: you're a kindergarten teacher at Hawkins Elementary and coincidentally steve harrington's little girl is a student in your class. you're very eager to meet the father of the sweetest little girl you've ever met with her floral dresses and fancy socks and learn about her weekend at the park as well as share the importance of ethics and ponder the suspicious nature of ice cream scoops in the sink [wc: 10k]

warnings: fem!reader, fluff, hurt/comfort, light angst, kids being cruel/bullying, slowburn, strangers to friends to lovers, single parent!steve, mentions of teen parent!steve, steve being the biggest girldad, uncle eddie (he's so stinkin cute!), dustin being a teenager, mentions of shitty parents (steve's), probably not proofed very well. lmk if i missed anything!

⤜♡→

To be stripped of an innocence blind to the eye, bestowed within a certain uncertainty, is barely manageable with a half printed diploma and matching polos for seven days a week. Seven colors of the rainbow, walls painted pale yellow to ward the scar of ink pink staring back with each blink, ten fingers and ten toes set to cling and slowly release.

Whales like to sing. Their tune travels for miles with the ability to last up to thirty minutes. A fun fact from teens who have nothing better to do than flex quick wit in the face of panic.

Wailing hailing from the monitor for hours at a time, fingers gripping loose ends to halt the movement of limbs driven by eyes made of glass and a heart not meant to last the high pitch before the hitch of first period alarm. 

Four square, two bed, one bath. Close quarters, filled to the brim of a pickle jar doubled in size, two weeks notice and an extra shift to light the night and slay beasts of bills and sharp teeth. 

Overnight bags paired with the sag of skin purple and stretching pliable with each drip from a youthful fountain fixed on tears of puppy dog fears, kissed away from dough puffed cheeks. 

Bare feet shuffling shag carpet, one, two, three hops to the mattress spring, tiny fistfulls tugging the grandma stitched quilt from a body  starved of sleep yet carved with the fondness of day one and counting. 

Top of the forehead down to the bridge, across the cheek and the tip of the lips, vague traces of tiny digits glide the skin. The peek of a pupil just high enough to spot sleep dazed inquiries and curtains of baby blue hue blocking rays of the sun's morning craze. 

“Good morning, daddy.” Delicate lips ghost the skin of Steve’s forehead, altogether removed in favor of a tiny head tucked beneath his chin, pulling tossed blankets to pile on top of him. Like the work of a clock, the mechanical thing with its many cogs rather than the two dimensional screen with an alarm silenced since three, Steve hears the slip of his daughter’s fingers through the opening of her lips, past half gapped teeth responsible for his favorite toothy grin. His hand finds hers without pause, gently guiding it free to instead lift to his own lips, ignoring the glistening coat of saliva.

“Fingers, my little miracle.” He hushes, voice rasped from sleep filled tension. She burrows further, snatching her hand with soft giggles, warm breath pushing against the skin of Steve’s neck. His own ghosted smile traces his cheeks, fatigue draining from him with each shake of her tiny frame. “And what’s so funny?” 

“Nothing.” Despite her heavy insistence her laughter never ceases, but follows her rolling to the mattress. “I’m hungry.” 

“Hi, Hungry, I’m Dad.” It was Steve’s turn to tip over the brink of hilarity. Wren’s groan served as reward enough for his timely humor to pull him from the tangling of his legs in too hot sheets. 

Their morning is routine, Steve’s mini double hot on his trail in mimicry of his every move. Before he can grab their toothbrushes Wren’s hands are positioned with the twisted and gnarled mint paste, tongue poked in ready for the perfect dot to damp bristles. He shoves the sleeves of her nightie up to spare the fabric from the stream beneath the faucet. 

Wren’s arm moves with precision as her pupils inhale Steve where his form lingers in one corner of the mirror, towering the little girl with patient drool hanging from her lip. Her escape is nearly swift with her last spit to the basin, but Steve’s foot claims the edge of the door pushing it back to the frame when she attempts to run from the monster string Steve coins as floss. He wraps the thin twine around his fingers, gently sliding it through her tiny teeth when she refuses the chore on her own. 

While he tosses the used thread his pride and joy steps to the stool she readily abandoned previously, her gums pulled back to examine the damage inflicted. “No wonder the holes between my teeth are so big, you floss too hard!” 

“My apologies, Miss Harrington, but think of all the food you can fit with the extra space.” His words are carefully considered, Wren’s tongue tracing the expanse of pearly white before she hums in satisfaction. 

“Ok, but I think they’re wide enough now so you don’t have to floss me anymore.” She races from the room before being blessed with a reply, Steve’s eyes bugging when the hinge of the door nearly collides with the edge of Wren’s hastily swinging head. 

The natural progression of his hand to his chest nearly always catches him off guard, still in awe of his circumstance even five years later. He no longer bothers with the ‘could have been’ and only thanks whoever lies beyond that his senses are common enough to care for a life other than his own. 

Care is a statement so under-stated that anyone would laugh if he spoke the words, the girl whose humming permeates the silent space of the apartment more of his world than he believes himself to be. He wasn’t so sure the roll would befall him with such natural grace when she was placed in his arms, eyes shut and face scrunched with soft skin begging for the caress of his finger nearly the length of her head. But from that moment she was all that came to him with such naturalness that to be reminded that she’s his is enough to build the pressure of a dam within the ducts of his eyes. 

Now there are traces of her sprinkled in each aspect of his life making her the largest part of the whole, from the drawings strung over every square inch of wall otherwise bare to the toys sticking from every available nook and cranny. He often finds her stuffed into the pockets of his jeans in the form of an expertly drawn portrait or half crumpled polaroid from the camera Jonathan gifted her last year for her birthday. 

In other circumstances he would encounter her in the form of a mess scattered to the floor. This time caught too late when his foot lands against the unsavory stick of a bulky car to the base of his heel. He’s strained in pain and an attempt to keep his voice level, never one to yell at the minor inconveniences hoping to build a character of confident morality, “Wren.” 

“...yes, daddy?” 

“What did we say about putting things back where they belong?” His toes curl inward when they meet the soothing cool of the hardwood, Wren slowly tipping around the corner with her eyes focused on the object of reprimand. 

“I didn’t put that there,” She reasons, albeit still picking it up between her tiny fingers. 

“Oh? Are you suggesting that I put it there?” 

“Well no, but...I mean it was an accident.” She deflates, fingers dancing along the rolling wheels, lip slightly poked. “I was just playing with it earlier but then I got so excited to spend the day with you and I wanted to wake you! I guess I just left it there…I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay, just clean it up next time. Unless you wanna watch me hop around here on one foot.” 

“That would be kinda funny.”  Her hand lowers teasingly, the car half gliding on the floor. 

“And it would be even funnier if I took it away from you,” Steve tuts, only partly joking to elicit the baby eyed pout that could bring even his statuesque stature to its knees. 

Wren skips to the toy chest tucked in the far corner and places the car rather gently, peeking over her shoulder to ensure Steve catches wind of her good behavior. He only chuckles when he’s turned away, already almost to the kitchen when she catches him again. 

She clutches his hand, fingers flying back to her mouth. Steve leaves her be, reaching to the topmost cabinet where the medicine is stored to retrieve her daily Flintstone vitamins. He can feel the way her hand retracts from his own, can see the cute way her nose scrunches when he makes her do something she doesn’t like. He tries to soften the blow, fishing for a purple Pebbles shaped chew. 

“Daddy, I don’t want that.” Wren has already meandered to the fridge, the strength of both her small hands needed to swing the door on its hinges. “It tastes nasty and I think you were wrong, s’not gonna make me smart like Pebbles.”

He drops the shape as soon as he finds it, grabbing the next one that he sees. “Hmm…why don’t we try this one? It’ll make you as rambunctious as Bamm-Bamm!” 

“Ram…bunkchus?” She chews the word for a moment, dazedly staring where she hangs from the fridge on her heels. Steve catches himself in his own fondness, smiling at the way her lips mold around the word, the way she silently mouthed it to herself before giving it a try.

A second feeling stabs at his chest, the fear of her head meeting the sharp cabinet should she let go too soon and fall backwards. He’s scooping her into his arms and onto the counter to steady the race of his own heart, holding the green vitamin out to her. 

“Rambunctious, it means you’re full of energy. Like you when I take you to play at the park. Which I was thinking of doing today but you look kinda sleepy.” He baits her, thumbs swiping under the lid of her eye like he’s wiping the drowsiness from her skin. She’s smart and he knows that she doesn’t believe him, that she’ll play him like a fiddle. 

Her tiny fingers reach up to trace beneath his own eye, face screwing with concentration. “Daddy, I think you should take one too. If you fall asleep at the park someone might take me.” 

“You make a good point, but these are for kids.” These are gross and I know it.

“Uncle Eddie says you’re basically a kid.” 

“Oh yeah? What else does Uncle Eddie say?” Instead of a response she lifts her hands to her head like horns and pokes her tongue out in a silly face the same way Eddie does when he’s making a point to stake his claim to Hawkins High fame. Steve can’t help his stifled laughter though he decides that maybe he shouldn’t leave her with him so often. “Well, daddy says that his favorite girl should be good and take her vitamins so he can make her breakfast.” 

“Waffles?” 

“It’s up to you and Bamm-Bamm.” She’s not happy, but Wren parts her lips, eyes scrunched closed as if seeing the small chewable land on her tongue will make it more real. Steve drops it into her mouth, already moving to the cabinet for her sippy cup to fill it with juice and wash the icky taste from her mouth.

The remainder of the morning goes without a hitch, breakfast a little more mess than Steve would have liked when Wren’s arm slips against her plastic butterfly plate and it flips forward covering her with maple syrup. She begins to cry and Steve swoops in to soothe her sorrows before they begin ringing down the hall.  He decides a wet wipe will have to do until bath time later this evening and Wren is just fine with that as long as he hurries. 

Crisis averted, Steve finds himself standing, hands on his hips, before his daughter’s closet. Wren is having a spritely conversation at the tea table near the window, her various teddy bears participating with rapt attention. Her eyes are puffy from the tears, but she’s otherwise recovered from the earlier mishap, once again excited for her day at the park.

In her lap sits her favorite plushie, a fluffy tan rabbit with a pink nose the same as the inside of its ears and a bow tied around its neck to match. It’s the first thing Steve bought after he found out the news, unsure what he could possibly do as we walked aimlessly through town, spotting the sweet gift through the window of a shop. 

Wren’s voice falls to a suspicious mumble as Steve cards through sweaters and cardigans. He glances over his shoulder to find her hunched over, whispering into Floppy’s ear. Floppy is the name she insists she’s been calling the rabbit since she was little though it sounded more like Poppy in Steve’s opinion. Thus Floppy Poppy Harrington came to be scribbled in the cutest handwriting Steve has ever seen on a makeshift birth certificate Wren made him tack on the fridge.

“Fine, I’ll ask but he might say no.” She finally grumbles, like the poor rabbit is forcing her hand, Steve turning his back before she can catch him staring. “Daddy?” 

“Yeah, lovebug?” 

"Floppy thinks I should wear a dress today, the yellow one with the blue flowers. Can I?” He pulls the dress in question, the blue flower stitching dancing along the front. He considers the option, looking through the half opened curtains at the way the leaves flutter from the trees, swept with wind as crisp as the apples itching to be plucked from the gnarled branches.

Luckily the dress has sleeves that cup at the wrists, enough to keep her warm even if he loses the fight of tucking her into a seasonal windbreaker. He sizes up the hem, noting it’ll cut off at the caps of her knees. He roots through the adjacent dresser, searching for a pair of leggings that would look nice with the ensemble, mostly settling on dark brown because they’re thicker than the rest.

“Yellow dress it is.” He holds the outfit up for her approval, the silent way she replaces Floppy in her seat and sidles over slowly nodding is acceptance enough for Steve. It’s the opposite that has him capturing his lower lip between his teeth these days. The way she’ll just stare at him devoid of any response when she doesn’t agree with what he’s saying to her. 

He helps her into her fall fashion, no arguments when she pulls her pretty brown boots from the closet while he procures a pair of wool socks that won’t have her toes freezing on the playset. He almost forgets he has to dress himself until she’s pushing him out of her room and toward his own with an insistence that he hurry.

She closes the door and he can hear her feet scurrying down the short hall, probably to plop herself in front of the tv in hopes of catching the end of the morning cartoon slate.

Steve takes a moment, a deep breath that seems to elude him most times. It’s the guilt of needing these moments away from his favorite person that makes them few and far between, even ten minutes spent getting ready often filled with thoughts of what she’s doing while she waits, if he’s taking too long. The woes of parenthood as Robin calls it. Funny to Steve seeing as she doesn’t have any children, but she’s certainly not wrong.

He’s spritzing cologne over the burgundy crew neck he threw on when he hears the patter of Wren’s feet stopping at the edge of the hall.

“Daddy, there’s someone at the door! Don’t worry, I’ll get it!” 

“Wren Elizabeth Harrington, don’t you touch that door!” The fragrance barely lands back on his dresser, his legs striding through his bedroom door and to the living room where he finds Wren stock still just in before the front door with a wide smile talking to whoever’s on the other side.

“Come on, Wrennie, let your favorite uncle in. He brought you some yummy donuts!” Dustin entices her, muffled by the thick wooden barrier.

“What flavor?” She inquires, arms folding over her chest. 

“Chocolate!” Wrong answer.

“I’m sorry, daddy says I can't open the door.” She spins on her heel, jumping at the sight of Steve just feet away. “It’s Uncle Dusty, he brought you donuts.” 

She skips back to the tv. Tiny Toon Adventures is the newest thing catching her attention these days. Steve opens the door, a half eaten donut in Dustin’s hand only topped by the look of absolute shock coating his features. 

“She wouldn’t let me in.” 

“You don’t even have donuts. Good girl,” Steve trails him into the living room where Wren has already forgotten anyone was at the door. He gently tugs her fingers from her mouth once more, settling beside Dustin who’s picking at his donut with disinterest. “What are you doing here?” 

“I just thought I would drop in on my favorite people, clearly that was a mistake!” 

“Daddy and I are going to the park. You can play with me on the monkey bars.” Wren hums like it’s a privilege while her large eyes continue following the pink bunny across the screen, making sure Floppy’s ears are up and paying attention. 

“Last time I checked you can’t even climb the monkey bars.” Dustin teases her, her head whipping over to regard him with a tense stare. It’s her newest assault, no argument to be had lately, just large pupils of harsh disparity to set on edge whoever lay on the receiving end. Steve’s been there a few times, more willing to compromise than let her cold eyes shift to puddles with her lip quivering between her teeth. “Come on, Wrennie, I’m just kidding.” 

“Dude, why are you being mean to my kid?” Steve snags the remote from the edge of the coffee table, watching the end of the show fade to black and flicking the power button. He strolls to where he keeps the jackets, neatly filed in the hall closet, and pulls a pretty blue one and his own gray windbreaker. “Come put your coat on, Wren.” 

She skips over, sliding her arms through the sleeves singing the Muppet Babies theme song beneath her breath. The last time Steve tried to turn the show on for her she made a big stink, claiming to be much too old for such childish things. He thinks it’s a side effect of her new class, her first day of kindergarten sending her home with the biggest frown he’s ever seen. It was that weekend that she absolutely refused to dance around the living room with Steve to the song, his horrible Kermit impression doing little to turn the pout nestled on her chubby cheeks. 

He tried to coax an explanation from her. He set her up with an array of new crayola crayons, she’d been tirelessly begging him for the sixty-four pack as she was enamored with the idea of a sharpener right in the box, and printer paper at the dining table to occupy her while he made dinner. She wouldn’t budge. Now her nose turns up when the characters flash on the television, but he has a feeling it has nothing to do with the animated puppets and they only serve as an unnecessary casualty to the real issue. 

“Whatcha singin’, bug?” He helps her zip before snugging her beanie over her lengthy mane, the ends curling around her shoulders. 

“Nothin’.” She chirps, running to the mirror nestled above the table beside the front door. She jumps up and down a few times, trying to catch sight of herself in the round frame to no avail. She huffs but doesn’t relent, climbing the sturdy top to rest on her knees. “Daddy, don’t you think I look pretty today? Floppy was right, the yellow dress is perfect!” 

“Prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.” He agrees, spinning his keys around his finger. “You coming, Henderson?” 

“Yeah yeah.” 

~*~

Hawkins is somehow exactly what you expected and the exact opposite. 

You think it’s the people. The way half of them seem to fit the mold of the whole small town gimmick with their bright smiles and welcome pies while the other half are unapologetically riding the jagged edge of social acceptance. It’s like there’s something lingering just beneath your nose and you had to be there to see it but you’re a lifetime too late. 

It’s nice enough without being too overwhelming. Your optimism outweighs the unsavory sounds rattling in the bushes outside of your aunt's one story because any job is a good one for a first time teacher. 

It was daunting, walking through the shops and plucking motivational posters and alphabet magnets, wondering what kinds of kids Hawkins has to offer and hoping they’re better than Mrs. Wick’s third grade English class back in Illinois. You spent countless hours sorting markers and glue sticks and making lesson plans for a bunch of kindergarteners like their opinions are the ones that will make or break your career. 

Not entirely untrue, but dramatic even for your taste and no more of a confidence booster. 

Further, the flickering emergency lights of Hawkins Elementary were less than welcoming when the janitor shoved his custodial cart against the back entrance so you could get in a few days early to set up. 

Luckily, your classroom was much more receptive to your eccentric tastes and the room was covered in bright fluorescence rather than the sickly yellow coating the dimly lit hallways. It was with a cautious air that you decided the space was just cute enough to teach a gaggle of five year old's the basics of civility.

Now you lay dormant against the shag carpet of your aunt’s living room, fishing through a bag of goldfish and wondering what the hell is wrong with Jamie Fisher.

Your first week ended approximately twenty two hours ago and you were immediately taken with the students. All were wide eyed and curious because you were certainly not Mrs. Cotsdale, the nice old woman they were introduced to at the end of last year. But as kids do, they adjusted rather quickly, taking a liking to the way you allowed them to pick their seats and the quirky way you introduced yourself. 

All but Jamie Fisher who dared not wait until snack time to make it clear that he was certainly not pleased with the arrangements at hand. 

While you’re certain his mean streak is nothing personal, you’re forced to gently admonish him as it stands, too skittish to approach his parents a mere week into the quarter. He’s mostly harmless, no hands thrown or words spoken with such severity that any student’s complaints have driven you to a harsher punishment than timeout. 

Still, as you sit and pick at the tiny thread fraying at the hem of your top you can’t think of a single reason for his outright rebellion against you specifically.

A home problem is too forward. You’ve known the kid for a mere seven days and aside from his affinity for his Chuck Taylors and the over eager way his mother passed you a tin of cookies on the first day you know nothing about him. 

He all but refuses to participate in circle time and the one time you put him in timeout for his lack of participation he deemed you unfair and, his words not yours, the worst teacher to ever step foot in Hawkins.

So how better to celebrate the end of your first week than with an oversized bag of crackers, midway through a screening of The Breakfast Club playing on the television whilst you ponder your befittance as a teacher based on the reactionary contention of a five year old?

“Honey, you can’t lay on the floor all weekend. My bridge club is coming at three.” 

“I like bridge.” You mutter, stuffing a half bitten fish through your teeth. Your toes dance between the strings of the rug, contemplating your next move when your aunt makes clear that you are certainly not invited to watch her weekly skirmish with the other middle aged women within walking distance.

You recall one of the teachers mentioning a park not far and it seems as good a plan as any. 

You stumble upon the realization as Bender is clapping into his famed monologue, Clair’s hand swiping at the softness of her lips. It’s one you could recite without the prying eyes of misfit teens and certainly without your aunt silently chiding you for flattening her floor. 

You manage to scrounge up the crumbs that always seem to materialize when eating something as rudimentary as goldfish and shove your feet into your sneakers, snagging a jacket for good measure.

“I’ll be back later!” 

“Take your time. Oh! But do you mind if I serve these cookies to the girls? They’re not very good but good enough to feed those gossips.” 

~*~

The day is young and the park is packed, kids of all ages running back and forth, screaming at the top of their lungs. A little boy pushing himself on the swings with the help of his mother. 

At first Steve thinks it's his hand that tightens around his daughters, the pressure not quite holding her there but enough to keep them linked together where he allows Dustin to lead them to a picnic table being vacated by another family. It's when they reach the table, his free hand dropping the small bag he’d packed to the tabletop, that he realizes Wren hasn’t taken a running start to the playset. 

“Go on and play, bug, we’ll be right here watching.” He gently nudges her backside, the weight of her tiny frame leaning into his palm rather than taking the momentum and blasting off with it. She’s dancing in place, little circles she twirls with her feet, hands catching at the fluttering hem of her dress like the princess Steve and everyone else believes her to be. 

“Wanna stay here for a while, with you!” She sings like it’s the most logical next step. Steve doesn’t miss the way her eyes slide to the swings drifting in the slight breeze before she reaches for her bag to pull her sippy cup from the side pocket and settle in the grass. 

“I thought you wanted to play on the monkey bars?” Dustin attempts, used to her outrunning them all with her bubbly laughter trailing in her wake. It’s an oddity to the pair of them, Steve’s brows scrunching with a minute concern before he’s lowering himself from the bench to sit with his daughter. 

“Maybe later.” She shrugs, eyes following the masses of children running and screaming without any sense of civility amongst them. The enthusiasm she’d awoken him with has dwindled, her lips pulled into a pout where she sits pawing at her cup. 

“Are you okay, bug? You were so excited about the park this morning.” He adjusts a stray hair beneath her hat, looking for any sign that she’d become suddenly unwell on the drive over. 

“M’fine, I just wanna wait a little while to play.” She sounds solemn but doesn’t say more, pulling herself from the ground to climb the bench beside Dustin. Steve picks absently at the grass, ripping the blades between his fingers with an unfamiliar agitation. 

He hasn’t felt so unawares when it came to his own child since she was no more than an infant and he found out he would be caring for her all on his own. She’s always been forthcoming, as talkative as any little kid discovering the world piece by piece with her heart on her sleeve. 

She loved to tell him all about her day: the things she did, the things she'd been waiting to do until she got home. Until suddenly one word answers were all she could seem to muster, trying to hide behind the sweet smile on her face.

Things haven’t been altogether different but he’s not been foolish enough to ignore the way her eyes have dimmed just slightly and she’s less eager when it comes to the things she used to love. It’s been hard not to self reflect, Steve invariably questioning his adequacy as a father. 

He’s always thought it would be just as easy for him to fall into the same patterns as his own parents, his own father. Constantly taking care to make you feel as loved as possible, to create the kind of bond he always craved. It’s times like now that he thinks he must’ve done something wrong. 

“I’m gonna go play, daddy!” He would’ve missed the sudden change were it not for her cup tipping over the edge of the table to tumble into his lap. He watches her scamper to a little girl that looks to be her age, the two catching on quick and ducking into the primary colored playset. The tension in his shoulders hardly diminishes.

“That was weird, right?” Steve needs the affirmation that he’s not overreacting. He flops his chestnut hair to one side, peeking at Dustin through the crest of his arm. He feels nearly foolish looking up at the teen, still perched in the grass like he’s the child here.

“What?” 

“Wren, the way she was acting.” Dustin glances where they can see you swerving through a series of metal rings fashioned in red, Steve’s eyes unable to look away until you’ve made it safely without a scratch. “She’s been…different lately.” 

“It’s called getting older. You should know it made you lame as hell.” 

“You’re such a little shit. Can you be serious for like two seconds? Dude, she won’t even watch Muppet Babies with me anymore.” If he were less distraught the sentence would’ve sent Dustin rolling on the ground, but the way Steve’s soft hazel eyes seemed to double around the pupil had him thinking better of it. 

“Maybe she’s just finding new interests. She’s not a baby anymore, Steve, you’re bound to drift apart eventually.” 

“Shut up, Henderson.” 

The thought of his little bundle of joy growing past the peak of his kneecap, no need for him to haul her around in his arms anymore is a thought far too detrimental. He ponders as much with eyes trained on the toes of his sneakers, the feeling of the slightly wet grass seeping into his denim jeans. 

Wren’s not much bigger than she was last year and still the size is insurmountable in his eyes, his precious lovebug growing too fast. He’s teased countless times that he’d lock her in a pretty little jar so he can keep her this small forever, though the sentiment rings entirely true. He can’t stomach the thought of Wren going to first grade next year, let alone far enough to be walking the same halls where he was deemed ‘King Steve’ by love drunk teenagers at Hawkins High.

His eventual migration to the picnic table guides him into a conversation about the latest D&D campaign. Not that he knows much about the complicated roleplay but it gives him a sense of peace sitting with the one kid who made him feel wanted even after everyone else deemed him a colossal blunder his senior year. 

It was Dustin and his own band of misfits that helped Steve realize there were more important things than popularity and the one that got away. Made him comfortable with the prospect of being a father.

“You call that girl from Family Video yet?” Dustin eases in, poking through Wren’s bag to pull a pack of fruit snacks. Steve glances toward the playset, silently urging his daughter to come running over with some story about the fantastical happenings of the last thirty minutes. 

“No, just doesn’t feel right.” A true statement, assessment of his life thus far always drawing him away from the pursuit of romance. 

“It’s just a date, not like she’s asking you to get married.” Dustin gets it, they all do, but it feels in poor taste to see his best friend settling into a life of two with the knowledge that one day it’s not just gonna be cartoons Wren isn’t sharing with Steve. He’s not forcing him into forever, but attempting to lure him toward the possibility of trying. “Give her the old drive-in special, girls used to love that. I mean, there was that time you almost got your ass kicked because one of them had a boyfriend but—” 

“God, you’re such a teenager.” Steve scoffs, snatching the pack of snacks from his hand to steal the last of them. He won’t say it’s the fear of what Wren will think that’s stopping him, not a non factor but not his biggest concern, but he doesn’t want to dip her into a pool of false hope only to be sent drowning by a false floaty. 

He’s built a house. One that’s safe and familiar, filled with the people who’ve proven to be all or nothing. Wren’s aunts and uncles collectively play similar roles in the confidence of her upbringing and Steve isn’t willing to jeopardize the strength of his four walls with an audible. 

“A teenager with a girlfriend.” Dustin corrects, goofy grin at the mere mention of his precious Suzie. 

“Please don’t start singing.” 

“Whatever dude, all I’m saying is—” Steve has no idea what he was saying because ear splitting is the only thing to describe the high pitch ripping into his hollowed canals, pressing like lead against the drums of his ears. Even worse, the sound is as familiar as his own voice to him.

Adrenaline courses through him, dodging between the island of eyes kids and parents alike that stopped to find the wail of anguish. The park is suddenly miles long, and Steve can’t find Wren fast enough. His brain is already flooded with every sickening possibility when he rounds the corner of the playset to find her covered in mulch beside the firepole. 

Her cheeks are rosy and she’s still crying, albeit too choked up to keep pace with the octave that drew everyone’s attention. Steve’s eyes do an initial scan, quick to catch onto the redness the length of her forehead though concentrated mostly on the right side beneath her hairline. 

Her hands are scratched beneath the dirt caked from the damp mulch and he doesn’t draw her attention but notices the beginnings of dark red seeping through the knee of her leggings. He can guess she fell the distance from the top of the playset, not overwhelming but still a hefty drop for someone her size. 

He kneels before her, her body naturally flooding forward to cling to his dear life.

“It’s okay, did you fall, sweet girl?” He pulls away just enough to cup her cheeks, turning her head with enough ease not to jostle her but still get a good look at the harsh redness of her skin. It’s already beginning to swell to a healthy bump and he makes a note to call the doctor just to make sure he doesn’t need to bring her in. 

“Pu-pushed!” She manages, burying her head into his sweater to flood more tears than she knows what to do with. Steve glances around then, most of the children either gone back to play or huddled with their parents with large fearful eyes. There’s no one within distance for him to point an accusatory finger and Wren’s in no state to give him a clear answer.

“Okay, let’s go home and we’ll get you cleaned up. We can have a bath and watch a movie, any one you want.” He thinks he hears an ‘okay’ beneath the heaviness of her breathing mixing with the wetness of snot dripping from her nose. He pulls her into his arms and finds Dustin already with Wren’s bag and a solemn expression.

The woes of parenting.

~*~

The weather is chillier than you expected of early fall, a light breeze licking at the browning trees and slipping beneath your loose jacket. The park is only a few blocks but somehow word of mouth has spread that you’re new in town and your aunt is suddenly of small town fame amongst the masses of Hawkin’s lower class suburbia. So, everyone who could’ve stopped you on the way made sure to do just that and suddenly you have a bread baking date with a Ms.Henderson next Friday. 

By the time you do make it things seem to be in the midst of dying down. Families slowly making their way out of the park save for the select few who seem to be enjoying the newly deserted playground. You don’t question much, the late afternoon hour seeming a perfectly reasonable time to pack up and head home to ready for supper. 

“Miss. Y/l/n, fancy meeting you here!” Mrs. Fisher appears before you, purse slung over her shoulder and an unbothered Jamie clinging to her hand. It’s perhaps the most agreeable you’ve seen him in these short few days, a sucker jammed in his fist, dripping with a fresh coating of saliva.

“Mrs.Fisher, it’s lovely to see you! Hey, Jamie!” It hurts, the way your muscles retract into that faux business smile. The one you always swore you’d never need to use but in this instance it appears without your consent. Jamie mutters a greeting, though his eyes are trained on anything but you, as opposed to his mother who can’t seem to find any concentration aside from your pupils.

“It’s so nice to see you! Are you meeting up with some friends?” 

“Oh…no just a walk. It seemed like a nice day.” 

“Oh, that’s alright, honey, it’ll take some time for everyone to get used to you but I’m sure you’ll be making friends in no time.” She says it with a hint of accusation, like you aren’t trying hard enough, like you asked for her opinion. 

“Are you guys heading home?” You alter the course of conversation, uncomfortable with such scrutiny from the pair. Jamie shifts on his feet, shoving his sucker into the flesh of his cheek and tugging his hand free to chase down a stray stick meant for wielding. 

“Oh yeah. Some sweet little girl fell off the playset, says someone pushed her. Poor thing.” 

“Oh no, is she okay? Do you know who did it?” 

“She seemed fine enough, no hospital visits!” Mrs.Fisher laughed, like hospital visits are something she’s become achingly accustomed to but schools her face rather quickly to continue with her little anecdote. “No one admitted to pushing her so it just seems safer to head home for the day. I just don’t know how kids can be so cruel.”

You’re not in control of the way your eyes drift to Jamie poking at the trunk of a tree, but you’re also not sure Mrs.Fisher catches your drift. The way your eyes zero in begging her to understand that her own kid has the ability to brandish such cruelty with the same nonchalance as the makeshift sword dancing in his grip.

“Yeah, kids can definitely be complicated people.” 

~*~

Wren is in good spirits by the time her bath is through. The heaviness nestled against her head still worries Steve but a few Bugs Bunny bandages are enough to soothe the damage of the scrapes and bruises beneath her clothing. 

Dustin stayed for around an hour afterward, to make sure Wren was okay and Steve’s head was on straight, no longer a panicked parent with no clue which way was up. The thought of earlier events still sets his pulse on high, even as he stares at the soft smile Wren regards the tv with, the Lollipop Guild tickling her pink. 

She’s cuddled beneath her favorite blanket, a surprise gift from his mother when he moved out. It’s ironic, the way the stitching creates the illusion of reaching for the stars over its expanse of deep blue. He thinks it’s the most sentimental thing his parents ever gifted him. Not that his father had anything to do with it. 

Floppy is perched beneath the crook of her arm and a cup of warm milk hangs between her fingers. She’s holding it with one hand, the other stuffed into her mouth at the tips but he doesn’t have the heart to tear the small comfort from between her teeth. 

He’s been attempting to fold laundry, sorting it into piles to ease the task of putting the clothes away later. It works for a while as a way to settle the discourse in his gut, but suddenly whites and colors are all the same and it doesn’t make any sense to keep going. He tries to think of the next thing, the next task to make him feel useful, a trick to convince himself he’s not still floundering every waking moment.  

It’s nearly six and Wren hasn’t had dinner yet. 

Steve tosses the rest of the laundry back into the basket, cringing at the thought of the wrinkles he’ll have to iron out later, and stalks to the kitchen after making sure Wren’s content enough not to trail after him or get up to something while he’s gone. It’s not much of a distance, but it wouldn’t be the first time he’s rounded the corner to find she’s found something he’d rather she didn’t play with while he’s away.

The cabinets are mostly empty as it were. He’s waiting until Monday to go shopping while Wren’s at school so there’s nothing left but waffle mix, oatmeal, and a box of kraft. He’s learned that if he doesn’t ask Wren what she wants for dinner she’ll pretty much eat whatever he cooks as long as it’s something he knows she likes. 

Hopefully of all the changes she seems to be going through this one thing remains constant for the moment at least. 

He snatches the mac n cheese and sets the water to boil before rooting around the fridge for something that will suffice as a side or a topping. It feels cheap when he pulls the hot dogs from the bottom drawer but he’s learned he doesn’t have room to be picky, a refusal to accept his mother’s charity, save for emergencies, leaving him with a measly check and a tight budget.

“Daddy.” He glances past the refrigerator door, Wren’s edging around the frame with bruised knees and a curious smile. “What are you making?” 

He can tell she doesn’t really care by the way her body tips past the threshold, tugging at the tea towel hanging from the oven. He’s just not sure why she would abandon Dorothy in favor of standing aimlessly in the kitchen. 

“Stay away from the oven please, bug. I’m cooking dinner and I don’t want you to get hurt.” More hurt. “Why aren’t you watching your movie?” 

“I missed you.” She’s being cute, bare feet pushing to tipped toes when her arms open in a sweeping gesture. Steve is putty in her hands. He hoists her up, planting a wet kiss against her cheek and pushing his nose against her soft skin. “Daddy!” 

“Wrennie!” He mirrors in tone, spinning her in his arms much to her unbridled amusement. Her laughter is like music and his feet catch onto the rhythm quite quickly in the small space of the kitchen. Her legs wrap around him to stop from swinging wildly against his front, her arms caged between their chests where she clutches at his t-shirt.

“Put me down!” 

“I will…for a kiss.” He reasons, touched with warmth when her hands cradle his cheeks and press the sweetest kiss against his lips. 

When he settles her back on her feet she’s still swaying with amusement, her shirt having ridden up her tummy just a tad. He reaches to pull it down, noting the steam rising from his water on the stove. Wren watches him with an adolescent awe, tearing the box of noodles and dumping it into the small pot. Steve grabs the abandoned pack of hot dogs and waves it in her direction. 

“You want ‘em in the mac?” She ponders, stroking her chin like it’s the hardest decision she’s made in her five years.

“On the side…with ketchup!” She has a bit of a lisp, the middle of the word sounds more like a ‘sh’ when she says it. He’s in no position to argue, ripping the package to begin slicing the meat into tinier pieces so she can fork them. 

He learned very early on that she absolutely despises having to eat with her fingers. It was around two, the same time that she made known her discomfort with a mess at the dinner table, always picking at the crumbs that fell from her fork until Steve swiped them away with a napkin.

“Go wash your hands please, bug.” She skips away and Steve takes the opportunity to quickly finish the mac and avoid working his way around a hungry kid with a hot pot. He plates a healthy portion to her plate and squirts the ketchup next to the pile of hot dogs, extremely careful not to let the dishes mix. He’s managed to sneak into the living room and pause the movie as well as fetch her cup and refill it by the time Wren is climbing into her seat. 

“Thank you, daddy!” She has the good grace to manage the words, her fork already halfway to her mouth and dripping with ketchup. It’s only then that Steve realizes how hungry he is, eating what’s left of the mac n cheese straight from the pot. “Hey, how come I can’t do that?” 

“You’re not tall enough.” Steve shrugs, always easy going when it comes to his dimwitted explanations. He’s sure it’ll come back around sooner or later, either when she is tall enough or when Nancy chides him for telling her something so ridiculous. “Have to be able to reach those cabinets way up there without any help first.” 

“I hate that!” 

“Don’t say hate.” 

“I’m sorry, I just think it’s really dumb and not fair at all.” She amends, shoving a fork full of noodles into her cheeks.

“Well I guess someone should get a lot more excited about her vitamins.” 

~*~

“Little bird!” You glance toward the door from where you’re busy stacking leftover construction paper, confused until you see Wren Harrington sprinting with her backpack bouncing loftily behind her. It’s a wonder it doesn’t send her tumbling over the way it rivals her weight.

She throws herself into the arms of the man whose presence looms in the doorway, bent at the knees with open arms. He lifts her to his height and places a kiss on her cheek before wrangling her to his shoulders with an amusing series of theatrics. 

You always seem to miss the moments Wren is picked up, too preoccupied with other children leaving you to catch the tail end of her pastel pink backpack exiting the room. This time you hail her captor down, eager to meet the father of one of the sweetest little girls you’ve ever met.

“Mr.Harrington!” It takes another flag to stop him in his tracks, like he didn’t think you were talking to him at all. Up close he’s not what you expected, certainly not paired with Wren and her pretty dresses and fanciful socks poking out of her shoes to swallow her ankles. No, he’s the opposite of what you expected, riding that jagged edge. 

His jeans are torn and kissing the tops of his white converse, barely white beneath the dust coating the fabric. He’s wearing a Metallica t-shirt that’s certainly seen better days and his arms are wrapped in worn leather but if you’re not mistaken the crest of a tattoo peeks from his collar in jet black. 

His hair is another story entirely, long and frizzy, curled at his scalp and springing just past his shoulders. 

Despite his rough exterior you wouldn’t deny that he is pretty. Big brown eyes and a killer smile, he’s definitely pretty. And he definitely carries a hint of weed beneath the thick layer of coriander and pine you assume he spritzed on in the parking lot.

Wren giggles and you realize you’ve just been staring, though abashed as you are, burning from the inside out, you step forward with an extension of your hand. 

“I’m Y/n Y/l/n, I don’t think we’ve had the pleasure of meeting, Mr.Harrington.” He looks at your hand then at you, brow arching in absurdity as he takes half a step forward and accepts the gesture in kind. Wren is playing in his hair all the while, pulling up various strands and tugging lightly when her human doll seems to have forgotten his speech. 

“Call me, Eddie, I insist.” His hands slip past the stitching of his pockets, befitting the role of the perfect parent, very attentive in the awareness of his child’s education. It looks unnatural on his person and Wren doesn’t seem to disagree, her laughter bubbling over. 

“Well, Eddie, I just wanted to let you know that your daughter is a delight to have in the classroom. Always very attentive and willing to participate. She’s very smart.” And you mean every word, easily getting to know the little girl who could go on and on about how much she loves her family and especially her dad. Her excitement appears more standoffish lately, but you imagine it’s just a natural way of settling into the school year.

“Is that right, little bird? You’re a smarty pants?” His tone is light with a hint of disbelief. Wren ducks her head over his own, angling toward him sporting a toothy grin.

“The smartest pants in town!” She exclaims, pushing at Eddie’s bangs to clear his line of sight enough to see her without obstruction. It’s then, while they’re in their own little world, that you catch sight of the adhesive clinging to her knee where her dress rides up, the day warm enough to forgo the extra bottoms. 

“Hey, what happened there?” You inquire, poking at the carrot protruding from Bug’s mouth as gently as possible. Wren is sheepish to respond, looking around the room conspiratorially before leaning toward you. 

“I fell on the playground.” 

“Oh no!”

“It’s okay, my daddy helped me feel better.” She mumbles, reaching to pick at the edge of the bandage but thinking better of it. “My head was hurt too, but s’not so bad now. Just a bump.” 

“Well thank goodness for your daddy, huh?” You shoot Eddie a smile, one he returns with a hint of something you can’t quite place. “You gotta be more careful, don’t want you getting hurt again. I need my favorite student around to keep me company.” 

“I was being careful but then Ja—I wasn’t paying attention I guess.” You ignore her little slip but not without committing it to memory. “I’m your favorite student?” 

“Don’t tell anyone, it’s our little secret.” You kiss your pointer, and hold your pinky toward the girl eyeing you like you’ve just told her something astronomical.  

“Our secret.” 

“Picking favorites, teach? Doesn’t sound very ethical, might have to  call a meeting with the PTA, I’m up for president I’ll have you know.” You can tell he’s joking and something about it catches you off guard, only used to most of the parents being altogether uninterested or much too invested in being passive aggressive with you. 

“Ethical?” Wren whispers to herself but loud enough for you and Eddie to catch. “What’s ethical?” 

“It means you do the right thing and you know the difference between the right thing and the wrong thing.” You make it as clear as possible without adding any sense of confusion. Wren’s head tilts at an angle, her lip tugging between her teeth. 

“Ease up, birdie.” Eddie winces where Wren’s small fists tug at his scalp in time with whatever thoughts she’s having. 

“So it’s like when my daddy tells me that I can’t have ice cream after dinner but the next morning when I come in the kitchen I know he had ice cream after I went to sleep because I see the scoop in the sink?” 

“Well!” Eddie starts, hands fastening at Wren’s calves. “Now that we’ve got that all straightened out, I‘ve gotta get you home.” 

“It was really nice to meet you M-Eddie.”

“Oh trust me, the pleasure is all mine.” 

“ A pro-tip, it’s always better to clean up the night before. They’re always more observant than you think. See you tomorrow, Wren!” 

“Bye!” She sings, wrapping herself around Eddie’s head when he ducks beneath the door. Something draws you to the threshold, watching the two of them make their way animatedly toward the exit. Curiosity strikes you in the excitement that paints them for more chaotic than a father daughter duo.

~*~

“How’s the kindergarten life treating you?” It’s a routine, these Monday shopping trips. It’s the only time Steve can focus enough to get the bulk of his list without Wren getting either bored or highly amused by everything on the shelves. She’s a great shopping companion but when they get home and Steve realizes he’s grabbed two packs of oreos instead of green beans it’s glaringly apparent she’s done well distracting him. 

So he’s taken to braving the monotonous task every Monday when she’s gone off to school, lamely pushing the cart down the aisle with his list in one hand, debating which tv dinner is cheaper, but also which one Wren will eat without much fuss. 

Currently he’s taking a breather at the general store, picking up band-aids after using the last of them over the weekend. Joyce is on shift and she always makes sure to check in on him, make sure he and Wren are doing okay. It fills him with a warmth he’s unaccustomed to, creating a comfortable atmosphere for him to let loose the weight he’s been carrying in his shoulders down to his chest.

“Uh…I think Wren really likes it.” He shrugs, tossing colorful band-aids onto the counter, plucking candy from the impulse buy section for after dinner. Wren loves Cow Tales so he makes sure to grab two because she has a doctor’s appointment later in the week and it’s never easy on either of them, and a Hershey bar for himself.

“That’s good. But what about you? I know it’s probably a lot different than last year.”  

“A lot different. I can’t decide if it’s good or bad yet. I guess I’m still adjusting to the whole thing.” He wonders if Joyce will send him off with the same lens as Dustin if he shares his concerns about Wren’s behavior and quickly decides a mother of three children has a lot more experience than a teenager with none. “Wren’s been acting a little different recently and I can’t tell if I should be worried or not.”

“Different how?” Steve could cry when Joyce leans against the counter, finding his eye with her own. She’s listening. 

It’s a small thing, but one that Steve has always clung to with an absolute absurdity. It’s not often that he finds people so invested in what he has to say, not anyone of age at least. He’s accustomed to being tuned out or made to feel like that shallow kid who used an unkindness to his advantage because it was the only way he could seem to claw his way out of the empty nest he’d been dropped into at such a young age. 

“Not as talkative, uninterested in her favorite things, she gets really quiet sometimes and then suddenly she’s my happy little girl again. I know kids grow up and they change but this doesn’t feel like that.” 

It’s the best way he can verbalize the changes without someone seeing them first hand and he hopes it doesn’t sound as unimportant to Joyce’s ears as it does to his own. Like they’re just scraps from a bad day and he doesn’t know what to do with them.

“That certainly doesn’t sound like Wren…” Joyce considers the evidence for a moment, slowly ringing up the few things on the counter. “Can you think of any reason that she might be acting differently? Has anything happened leading up to this sudden change?” 

“Just the start of the school year. She didn’t seem incredibly happy after the first day but she seems okay now. She really likes her teacher.” 

“Have you met her teacher? When Will started having trouble around middle school talking with Mr.Clarke, he was Will’s science teacher and he ran the AV Club so he helped to sort of paint a picture of who Will was away from home.” 

Steve hasn’t had the chance to meet Wren’s teacher yet. He’s always either working or she’s nowhere to be found when he does have the day off to pick Wren up himself. He’s thought about calling to set up a meeting but he’s not altogether sure what he would say. Nice to meet you, I’m Steve Harrington and I’m wondering what’s wrong with my daughter Wren?

It’s a tad accusatory and he certainly doesn’t want to make things harder for any of you. 

“Steve?” 

“Huh? Oh, sorry.” He fishes his wallet out and hands over exact change. He grimaces at the dwindling thickness of the binding leather. 

“I really think it’ll help if you have a talk with her teacher. Even if she can’t tell you exactly what’s going on I can promise it’ll help to have another perspective.” 

“Yeah, I think I will. Thanks, Joyce, for everything.” 

“You’re a good dad, Steve. You’ll figure it out, whatever it is.”

Her words carry him home, eager to see his daughter after a long day behind a shopping cart. It still strikes him how many of his friends' parents remember who he is, not like he spent much time making himself available to anyone he wasn’t interested in sleeping with. He certainly wasn’t making plans for game nights at Tommy H’s or team bonding with the jocks. 

Yet somehow, he’s always roped into a conversation about Wren and the harrowing task of holding his tongue when he assures them that she’s anything but a mistake and she surely hasn’t ruined the future he didn’t have. He has no doubt his father still finds it in him to knock Steve down whenever the moment calls for it so it’s no surprise that even years later it's something people attempt to hold over his head.

His arms are full when he slips his key into the lock, surprised to find it already open. He panics slightly but it’s immediately diminished when he hears Wren’s laughter and Eddie’s voice singing some silly song on your behalf. Steve can barely see over the bags stuffed in his arms when he enters the kitchen.

“Ever heard of a locked door, Munson?” He grunts, unloading the increasingly unbearable weight and sighing beneath Wren’s giggles when one of the bags tips on its side and the jar of Jiffy nearly falls to the floor until Eddie’s reflexes catch it just as it readies to splat.

“Uncle Eddie saved the peanut butter!” Wren chants and Steve frowns in Eddie’s direction when he catches sight of the cone nearly depleted in her sticky fingers.

Eddie is already pulling a wet wipe from the stash on the far end of the counter, expert in the way he avoids Steve’s heavy hazels. “Relax, Steve. I think the most threatening thing I’ve seen in this building is that freaky looking dog in four-C. 

“Eddie, Keno is nice!” Wren insists, licking at her cone and scrunching her face when Eddie wipes at the vanilla cream painting her cheeks. The drippings from the cone have left four adjacent dots in the collar of her dress, darkening the pink fabric and yellowing the daisies patterned throughout. 

“You won’t be saying that when Keno eats your leg, little bird.” 

“Eddie!” Steve rests his hands against his hip and addresses the man with the same tone he uses on Wren when she’s doing something particularly unsavory. The difference is the smile tugging at Eddie’s lips and the way he places his own hands on his hips as well. “Did you at least feed her actual food before you just shoved an ice cream cone in her face.” 

“Four chicken mcnuggets with fries and milk. No soda here, daddy-o!” 

“Yeah, daddy-o!” 

“Don’t take this the wrong way, Munson, but get out of my house.” Steve’s finger juts toward the front door, less than enthused about his daughter's penchant to mimic the metalhead no matter how cute it may seem in hindsight.

“Whoa whoa, is that any way to talk to the ideal babysitter for our little princess?” Eddie feigns offense, both men aware that his band is meeting for practice soon anyways. Like the perfect babysitter, Eddie steals the rest of Wren’s cone and shoves it in his mouth when he realizes she’s no longer interested in eating but sticking her fingers in the melty puddle inside the shallow wafer. 

“You’re right. Thank you for filling my daughter up with junk food, now get out.” Steve turns to Wren, taking the wipe Eddie threw on the table and wiping the remainder of the mess from Wren’s skin. He kisses her nose when she begins to whine behind the damp cloth. “How was school, bug?” 

“It was good! Eddie met my teacher!” 

“Oh yeah?” The words are directed at Eddie who’s begun sifting through grocery bags like it’s the lost and found. “He was on his best behavior I assume.” 

“Yeah, she’s great.” 

“Yeah, she’s really nice!” Wren fills in, clueless to subtextual diligence shared between two men with brains barely sidled past the stage of boyhood. 

“Yeah, that too. She’s really eager to meet ya, big boy.” 

“Well that’s good news, because I thought that I’d pick you up from school tomorrow and have a little chat with her. Does that sound okay with you?” He asks Wren her hands twisting in the skirt of her dress with big eyes like Steve’s own looking back at him. 

“Yeah! Daddy, you have to!” She jumps off of her chair, nearly headbutting Steve in her overwhelming excitement. It’s the most in character he’s seen her in a while. “I’m gonna go pick out my best outfit with Floppy!” 

“See you later, little bird!” 

“Bye, Uncle Eddie, thank you for the junk food!” She’s bouncing off the walls and Steve can already hear the tedious argument he’s gonna have with her at bedtime. 

Something along the lines of letting her stay up because it doesn’t make sense to go to sleep if she's not tired. She’ll follow up with a vaguely scientific observation about there being enough light filtering through her windows that she couldn’t possibly sleep. He’ll end up crawling into bed with her and letting her talk them both to sleep in which case his back will be killing him in the morning and they’ll be running late because he’s forgotten to set the alarm. 

“Yeah, Uncle Eddie. Thank you for the junk food.”

[superblysubpar]

How Sweet It Is

There’s laundry in piles in various states of cleanliness, a sudsy sink soaking a burnt casserole and a box of pizza with crust left in it on the counter. There’s a lot to do once the six little nuggets are snoring in their beds, but tonight, you’re slow dancing with your husband in a candle lit living room, a bottle of wine is opened, and you’ll be back to your mom duties in only a few short hours. When they’re piling onto your bed, requesting breakfast and rides and help with their homework. The record crackles as the needle drops, James Taylor’s voice spilling out of the speakers softly…How sweet it is to be loved and love so deeply. 

dad!steve harrington x mom!you | a collection of stories in a universe in which you're parents to six kiddos

My Girl

Papers with red pen marks mingle with the ones you cover in neon stickers across the coffee table. A bag’s contents spill out in the entryway - soccer cleats and balls amongst bright orange cones. He rounds the corner to find her in your arms, face concentrated on the pot you’re stirring as she wrinkles her nose and whispers “Broccolis?!” in disgust. Both of you notice him at the same time, heads turning in unison, smiles that make every bad day better directed towards him. “How are my girls?”

single dad!teacher!steve harrington x teacher!you | a collection of stories set before, during, and after the events that take place during "My Girl" (a story coming soonish).

[porchlightfairy]

singledad!steve, who knows absolutely nothing about science, helping his son with a project you assigned. he is definitely not the one in charge and is just doing whatever his son tells him to do. once it’s finished and they go to school with it. steve’s heart flutters when your eyes light up at the project. it’s not his project but your gratitude makes him feel like it.

[pinkrelish]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 "𝐲𝐞𝐬" 𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐲.

singledad!mechanic!eddie x fem!reader

✶It's a dreary start to the week, but as the days go by, the dynamic between you and Eddie shifts. You both ask questions with hidden motives, and after a significant morning, he tells you about Adrie's mom. Then, Steve shows up unannounced with a proposition Eddie can't refuse. Literally.✶

NSFW — slow burn, mutual pining, flirting, light angst, depictions of poverty, 18+ overall for eventual smut, drug/alcohol mention/use

chapter: 2/20 [wc: 5.3k]

↳ part 01 / 02 / 03 / 04 / 05 / 06 / 07 / 08 / 09 / 10 / 11 / 12

AO3

Chapter 2: Whimsy as the Wind

Monday was a storm.

There was no better stimulant than the rush of a morning against the rain. Hitting like bullets on the skin when Eddie clutched Adrie to his chest to shield her on the way to the car. Spelling disaster for the braids she asked for, then complained about when he pulled her hair too tight. Dripping into his eyes as he fumbled with the buckle of her car seat in the jet black hours. Drenching the bottom of her favorite pants despite his efforts to protect her.

“Daddy’s sorry,” he mumbled on her wet forehead shining under the dim overhead light.

On the way to preschool she was quiet. The rhythm of the fat drops pounding on the window soothed her, and he was grateful, despite the rising sensation of lateness grating on his nerves.

Everything moved slower on stormy days. Yet he moved faster. It didn’t matter if he skipped eating his breakfast at home to get out the door quicker, the red stop lights took longer, he swore it.

Life was against him. But Adrie was quiet, and Mrs. Teresa was in charge of helping the little ones out of their cars. She was an out-of-towner, meaning, she wasn’t aware of Eddie’s reputation, and therefore was nicer to him than the other teachers, taking care to go beyond superficial greetings.

“Good morning, my dear,” she said to him, voice rough with age. She held an umbrella above his head as he got Adrie out, and followed him to the awning. His coveralls were already darkened by rain, but the gesture was kind, as was him offering his arm for her to hold onto as she stepped over the whirlpool circling the sewer drain.

Eddie sank into a crouch to ease his daughter’s vice grip from his neck. “Give Daddy a kiss goodbye, ‘kay?” Begrudgingly, she stood on her own two feet, and gave him a quick, annoyed peck on his cheek. “You gonna be good today?”

The attitude radiating off her was not promising.

“Your friends are waiting for you inside,” Mrs. Teresa said. “I think they’re playing dress up.”

An offer which proved enticing, as demonstrated by Adrie bolting from him for the front doors.

“No running,” he sighed to himself. The older woman chortled along, and wished him to have a good day as well. He should’ve taken the heart-palpitating lightning strike and simultaneous adrenaline-inducing clap of thunder as an omen when she uttered those words.

If not those things, then certainly his breakfast was a harbinger of the day he was about to have: instead of making two grape jelly biscuits, and two with egg, he ended up making two with both jelly and his daughter’s cold leftover scrambled eggs, and the others were left plain.

He ate the plain ones first before venturing into uncharted territory.

“Fuck no,” he said, mouth full of grape flavored egg-mulch. At least no one had to witness him spit it back into the container.

David’s Auto Repair didn’t have much in the way of shelter to keep him dry during his smoke break, so he sat in his car in the alleyway to pass the time until it was acceptable to arrive early.

‘Early’ being the time when you usually arrived, and an hour before Carl.

Til then, he cranked the heat and reclined his seat back, hugging himself to relieve the constant shiver his damp coveralls caused sticking to his skin.

Now, the heavy rain patter became a lullaby. Pelting the roof, easy on his falling eyelids. Precious seconds, minutes under the guided meditation of tap, tap. Tap, tap. Responsibilities drifting to the recesses of his mind. Thinking back on the days he spent doing this in the high school parking lot, promising Wayne he’d work hard to graduate only to end up napping in his van for most of the morning.

Eddie willed his eyes open. His watch told him he’d been asleep for fourteen minutes. Still early for work, but he felt a jolt of anxiety anyway.

He couldn’t blow things off like he used to. Not with people relying on him. Adrie and Wayne both depended on him to not be a fuck up. And if they weren’t motivation enough, he had another..

You should be sitting at your desk right now. If he timed it right, he’d pass by while the scent of dried coffee still clung to you before it had started brewing, which was an odd association he didn’t know he craved at the moment until it was at the forefront of his mind.

“Already following her around like a lost puppy, Munson,” he chided himself, turning off the car and bracing himself for the sprint to the employee’s entrance at the back of the garage.

And when he entered, the employee’s entrance at the front of the garage slammed open on a flashing cue of lightning, and there stood what he could only assume was a Creature from the Deep.

You huffed in two breaths, “Holy. Shit.”

Eddie tactlessly stared from across the room. You were beyond soaked. Your primary colored all-weather jacket appeared to not be waterproof in a monsoon, sagging on your frame like a melting street light of red, yellow, and green. Much like his coveralls, your once light-wash jeans were now dark blue. Somewhat adorably, though, was your pissed-off face being scrunched in a glare due to your hoodie drawstrings cinched tight in a circle, framing from your brows to your lips.

Your shoes gushed out puddles of rain on the concrete as you shoved your bike forward and let it fall in a clatter.

“I fucking hate this town.”

“Why are you riding a bike?” he asked, thinking you’d gone insane.

“Because I don’t have a car?”

“Why don’t you have a car?”

You sputtered sarcastically, gesturing at your bike. “Because I’m from the city! We have things like public transportation. Trains, taxis, buses.. walking! I've never needed a car to reach my mailbox before.”

Thinking himself helpful, he suggested, “I know a place where we can get you one for cheap.”

“Dude, I don’t even have a license.”

“Why don’t you–?”

“Trains!”

Eddie’s face collapsed into his own glare right back at you, and he waved his hands about the auto repair garage for automobiles where he fixed cars for people in need of transportation in which you answered their calls regarding said transportation and ordered parts to repair said personal automobiles at the garage intended for cars where he worked. You got the irony.

“None of this matters,” you said, dismissing him. True, it didn't matter, and he knew from your exaggerations your anger at him was in jest, but he appreciated the banter regardless. It was a nice break from reality. “It took me so long to get here because my whole street was flooded, and I’m guessing it’s flooding outside of Hawkins where the storm is coming from. We were supposed to get a delivery yesterday, but it never showed up.”

There was a pause where both of you accepted the arduous day ahead.

You said, “I’ll start calling around to see where our delivery might be stuck.”

“And I’ll do what I can without it,” he agreed.

Inhaling a breath of fortitude knowing you’d be informing a few upset individuals today that their cars wouldn’t be ready, you unzipped your jacket and loosened the drawstrings, dropping your hood back. You froze.

“Oh God, don’t look at my hair,” you begged, scuttling through the lobby and into the bathroom.

There were no more exchanges after you ran away. There was no time to entertain the lingering gazes, or small conversations where he thrived on your smile. He had to process what he could to earn money before sundown, and you played phone tag until you yawned, and stared blank-faced at the wall while customers bitched at you.

By normal closing hours, you were both too beaten down to do more than walk past each other on your way out without a goodbye.

A part of him wanted to do the chivalrous thing and offer you a ride, but that seemed too forward, too intimate, too invasive in his small car where his backseat was partially taken up by his daughter’s car seat, and he couldn’t come to a conclusion about your surprise when seeing her, nor unpack the loaded question of why he cared.

Whatever.

At least the rain stopped.

————

Tuesday was overcast.

You looked at Eddie leaning on the countertop to your desk and spun your hand while rolling your eyes, wishing the person on the other end of the phone line would hurry up. Eventually, you hung up, and interrupted him from picking at his nails. “They said it’ll be thirty minutes before they get here.”

“Guess I’ll wait then.”

He didn’t make to leave, and you didn’t have anything else to do, so you laced your fingers and leaned onto your forearms towards him, hoping through giving him your attention, he’d willingly talk to you for once.

“Um,” he drew out, searching the expanse between your hands, where he encroached on your space if only to the wrist. He tapped his knuckles on the vinyl. Swallowed visibly “About your policy thing.. Did you really move here just because your roommate asked you to?”

You drew your gaze up from his descending Adam’s apple, over the soft edge of his jawline, and grainy stubble on his chin. “I mean, kinda, yeah. Obviously, she’s been my best friend for years and needed help moving anyway, so I was up to make the trip, but when she asked if I wanted to stay, I said yes. Seemed intriguing enough; discovering what else was out there after living in cities for so long. See what sorta trouble I could get into when not surrounded by the usual nightlife options.”

“And how’s that going so far?”

“Bobbie’s mom and I are real good at solving the Wheel of Fortune before the contestants.”

Eddie snorted.

He dropped his focus to the looping circles he was drawing with his fingertip. Breathing deeper than necessary, and holding the air in his lungs for a few taut seconds. He rambled, “Sounds like Hawkins isn’t the place for you. Just somewhere to blow through, waiting for someone to ask you to, like, go to Chicago and be a bartender or somethin’.” He ended with a laugh aimed at his hands. Hollow. Empty of the humor he was pretending. “No responsibilities. Ready to get up and go whenever you want. That’s cool.”

“Been there, done that,” you mitigated the tension with a joke. “Bartending in Chicago, I mean.” He wasn’t being purposefully cruel, but the bitterness creeping into his words stung.

You glanced at his ringless fingers. Was he envious of your lifestyle because he was tied down? Your gut instinct told you he wasn’t the type to hold that sort of resentment towards his wife or daughter, so it had to be something else.

“Or,” you countered, “Someone could ask me to stay in Hawkins, and then I’d be obligated to, if we’re abiding by the policy. Who knows, maybe Kevin needs someone to walk his dogs, and then I can lead a nice, quiet, boring life here, absent of any fun or risks, hanging out with dogs for the next eternity. Is that what you want? Me bothering you until you’re in the grave?”

He squinted. “Fair point.” The laugh lines bracketing his mouth enhanced his appeal, joining the crow’s feet, and the harsh crease between his brows as he raised one in smug curiosity.

Perhaps you were staring at him for longer than you realized.

By chance, a chime signaled you both to a customer walking in the door in need of an oil change, and you reaped any opportunity to tease him. “Sorry, but some of us have work to do and can’t chit chat all day,” you cooed with the absolute cockiest head tilt to taunt him.

Shooing him away with a manila folder was extra, you had to admit, but upon recognizing the manner in which he rolled his lips inward to disguise the fact he was smiling, you figured smacking his hands was well worth the weird look from the woman waiting to speak to you.

————

Wednesday was a gale-force.

You went for it.

Arriving at dawn, you prioritized catching Eddie at the beginning of his morning cigarette.

He was leaning against the wall, upper body hunched with his hand cupped around his mouth, flicking his lighter until more than sparks stood against the gusts whipping the collar of his coveralls against his neck. His hair was blown back from his face, granting you the full picture of his raised eyebrows.

“Good morning, Eddie!”

“Hey? You’re early. I thought you’d get swept away on your bike like Dorothy, and I’d have to seek the courage to find you.”

“So in this scenario you’re the Cowardly Lion?” you asked, sidling up next to him to be heard above the wind.

He considered the implication and shrugged. “Guess even in my wildest dreams I’m still a coward.” Like any nice person, you sprung to assure him that despite your very short month of knowing each other, he (probably) wasn’t a coward, and he caught you. He caught you with your mouth wide open, ready to defend his honor.

Smoke slipped from his coy lips.

You tutted, “I think you’re the Scarecrow.” No brains.

“Anyway,” you went on, back to the reason your calves ached from pedaling like a mad man to get here at the same time as him. “It’s not like I bike that far. Bobbie’s parents live on that street next to the big open field, like, fifteen minutes away. Maybe twenty. Or ten?” You pointed vaguely north.

There’s a reason you never navigated on road trips.

“I thought they sold that empty lot forever ago,” he said.

“Well, unless they sold it to a bunch of tiny white mice who scurry every time I open the back door, I think it’s still abandoned.” You took your hands out of your jacket pockets and displayed them. “Not just mice, either. The other day I swear there was a spider the size of my palm in the bathroom.”

Taking the cigarette out of his mouth, he tipped his head back to blow the smoke above him before leaning over to study your hands up close. Contemplating them with keenness under the gray wash sky. Mumbling numbers to himself as if he were taking measurements.

He straightened up, and concluded, “Eh, not that impressive with how small your hands are.”

“Are they small?”

You faced him and presented your right hand.

Take the bait. Take the bait. Take the bait.

Eddie rolled onto his shoulder, body still at an angle from his legs crossed at the ankles. With a blank face, he understood what you wanted and decided to indulge your silliness, even if it meant sacrificing his warmth.

Uncrossing his arms, he wiped his hands on his clothes first out of habit.

Come on, Eddie.

None the wiser, he matched your thumbs. Pressed his left hand to yours.

Holy shit. He fell for it hook, line, and sinker.

“Mm,” you hummed. You leaned in for a better look.

His hand was warm and damp from sweat. Concentrated heat emanated from his palm sealed to yours, securing the soft cups together, aligning the stretch of your fingers. Where yours were soft, his were rough. Lines of thick calluses. Hardened exteriors acting as a barrier from your tender self discovering what his skin truly felt like brushing over your own.

He wore three rings. All gaudy and themed. Costume-y. Definitely not of the wedding variety.

That didn’t mean he was single, but you doubted he was taken when you turned to him, and found his large nose to be inches from yours, and his gaze to be fond of your cheeks before meeting your eyes.

He bent the top joint of his fingers over yours, and slid his thumb to the outside, crowding your bones in a tight squeeze, establishing his advantage. “Still small,” he said, toothy and boyish; mouth crooked, and hand rolled cigarette bouncing on the syllables. “Let me know when you see a spider as big as my palm.”

Hypnotized, you agreed with whatever he said. “Duly noted. I’ll keep an eye out.”

His Cupid’s bow had no business being that sharp, nor his bottom lip that plump.

————

Thursday was raw.

Nighttime was a purple haze chasing the orange glow behind the trees. You walked around the garage with a small trash can in your arms, tidying up the place. Eddie was staying late again. He said it was to make up for Monday’s mess, but those jobs were completed days ago.

You nudged his boots to get his attention on your way to clean up the work bench. Though you wouldn’t consider yourselves close, you collected the few details you knew of his life, and held them dear to your heart, feeling privileged to know them. “Is your uncle not working today?”

His thighs flexed under the strained fabric of his uniform as he cranked a wrench. “He is,” he grunted from beneath the car, “I’m just trying to get in some hours before he leaves for the night shift.”

Fuck it, you’ll just ask. “How come you work late so often?”

The grinding stopped. For a moment, Eddie laid there, stomach rising and falling as he debated with himself. Seconds went by until he set down the tool and rolled out, sitting up on the creeper board.

Your question struck pink across his pale cheeks. Rather, the way you avoided it brought shame to his face. Why don’t you want to spend more time with your family?

The societal judgment of what he was about to admit weighed on him. He curled in on himself. Drew his knees to his chest, and wrapped his arms around them loosely, latching at the wrist. He braced the words on his tongue–raw and vulnerable–and slipped a finger under his bandana to scratch at his temple.

“Sometimes I’d rather just be here,” he began slowly. “As soon as I get home, I’m the problem solver, you know? Whatever needs to be done, I have to do it while Adrie’s talking a mile a minute, screaming every question under the sun at me, and climbing all over me. I’m doing shit like trying to not burn her dinner while switching over the laundry and picking up the living room and telling her not to touch the stove and fighting with her to take a bath and making sure she has clothes picked out for the morning because if she doesn’t, then I have to spend twenty minutes calming her down before we leave for school so she can decide which shirt she wants to wear, and God.” He screwed his eyes shut, pressing his fingers on either side of his nose, muffling his voice. “I know I’m a shit dad, but sometimes I just want to turn my brain off, and stay here instead.”

“You’re not a shit dad,” you said with soft conviction.

He disregarded you with a mean scoff. “I sound like I hate my kid.”

“You sound overwhelmed, and tired, Eddie.”

“Maybe..”

Remembering you were holding the trash can, you set it down and leaned your hip on the workbench, settling into a comfortable position with a gentle ease of kindness to your expression, showing him it was okay to vent. You’d listen. It was safe. It was safe to show you the ugly parts of him. It would be okay.

You approached the next topic with care, though you could infer the answer for yourself now, “Is there no one else you can rely on besides your uncle to help alleviate some of the stress?”

“No. It’s just us. My parents have been out of the picture for a long time, and Adrie’s mom, uh..” He surrendered to the need for eye contact, wanting to see you, and stated evenly, “Adrie’s mom and I were never together. She was a customer of mine–”

Darting your gaze around the room, you pointed at the garage in an expression of ‘Really, dude?’

He turned puckish. He pinched his index and thumb together and tapped them to his smirk, indicating a much different line of work. You ‘ahh’d.

“Yeah, not a frequent flier either, just someone I saw here and there at parties or whatever. All it took was one night of stupidity. One fucking night of mistake after mistake, man.. N-Not that I think of Adrienne as a mistake! God, no. Just–y’know–the events leading up to her weren’t ideal.”

You held your hand up to stop him. “I’m not judging you. My parents never bothered to correct themselves.”

Mutual pain converged in your matching shrugs. Both of you were the undesireables. Though, he couldn’t imagine you being called a mistake when his failures were glaring.

Sinking into the solace of your presence, he explained further, “Adrie’s mom said–at most–three sentences to me after giving birth, and that was it. Everything else was handled by the court. She made it clear she wanted nothing to do with us, so sole custody should’ve been easy, but the system fucking sucks. Not once did I say anything contradictory; I made it clear from the beginning I wanted my daughter, but I know how I look on paper.. Trailer trash through and through. Busted for drugs more than once. Living with my uncle in a single bedroom piece of shit. Taking three attempts to pass high school. No real job at the time, and beyond broke. They kept trying to convince her to split custody, at least for the first year, but no.” There was a cynical dejection about him. One of haunting acceptance, thinking lowly of himself with his head hung, and glazed over eyes staring faraway. “She found someone better. Some guy with money who lived in Indianapolis, and she wanted to start a life with him. Move on from Adrienne. And me.”

“Eddie?” you called out to him.

“Hm?”

“You may not view my opinion highly, but I think you’re a great dad, and person. Money, reputation, criminal record or whatever else can go fuck itself.” You folded your legs under you, and sat opposite him with your back resting against the table leg. He scooted closer on his board, narrowing the swath of concrete between you to a few feet. “Beat yourself up all you want, but your love for your daughter is apparent. She’s happy. She’s safe. She’s fed. You take care of her just fine, and you’re allowed to feel frustrated, and you’re allowed to feel like you need a break.”

When he remained unconvinced, you insisted, “Adrie adores you, that’s for sure.”

“Yeah,” he snorted. “I know. That’s why Wayne never has these problems with her. It’s only me she’s ultra clingy with. Like if she’s not attached to me twenty-four-seven I cease to exist and she’ll never see me again.”

Something beautiful occurred in his shy glance. In his bashful smile. In the clumsy removal of his bandana, pulling his hair free from the ponytail and shaking it out. Wild.

His big brown eyes regarded you, and you beheld him in a similar light.

Something changed.

No longer casual acquaintances; you two looked at each other like you were friends.

“Sorry for rambling so much,” Eddie said.

“There’s nothing to apologize for.”

“Good. Because I’m not done.” He crept forward a few more inches, and aired his grievances in a lighthearted tone, bitching for the sake of getting it off his chest, “This time of year is really rough on us. Gotta buy her all new school supplies with whatever franchise or animal she’s obsessed with now. Which is unicorns, by the way. And, y’know kids grow like crazy. If it’s not an entire new wardrobe, then it’s the shoes. I swear this kid goes through shoes like she’s ruining them on purpose. I’m almost certain I buy new ones every time I blink.” 

A car passed on the street outside; the only break in the suffocating silence of a brick building echoing Eddie’s dramatic hand gestures as he sought sanity.

“She starts kindergarten next September and I’m already dreading it. She’s made lots of friends, which I’m grateful for.. Seriously, I’m really grateful that she’s made friends so easily, but she always wants to dress like them, do the things they do, go the places they go, and I try to figure out ways to afford it, but sometimes it’s too much, and I fucking despise telling her ‘no.’ Then there’s also the birthday parties basically every other weekend, and you can’t attend those empty-handed either, can you?”

You nodded patiently. “I suppose you are correct.”

“Kids are expensive, and it’s only worse at Christmas,” he concluded. Your stomach growled. “You want to leave, don’t you?”

Remaining in your slumped over position with your elbow propped on your thigh, and your cheek to your fist with your eyes closed, you asked, “What gave you that idea?”

He could mock you to his heart’s content, but you were right.

“Shit,” he exhaled, reading the wall clock. “We should go. Wayne leaves for work soon.”

“And Bobbie’s probably waiting for me to get home to gush about her girlfriend.” You stood up and stretched. “It’s cute, like a long-lost lovers situation, but yeah, she can go on for hours.”

————

Friday was cloudy with a chance of sun.

Tires screeched to a stop in the driveway of the garage, and someone honked their horn incessantly.

Startled, Eddie hit his head on the hood of the car he was bent over, and hissed between his teeth. He rubbed at the sore spot and glared behind him, ready to tell the nuisance off.

Except, if he did that, he’d be telling off his best friend.

“Of course it’s you,” he projected in a clipped voice, making his annoyance known.

Steve slammed his car door shut, and leaned against it, lighting a cigarette while Eddie made his way over. “Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, “I’m here on my lunch break, so if you wouldn’t mind gettin’ a little pep in your step, Munson.”

Passing by your inquisitive face smashed to the window beside your desk, Eddie raised his hand to show you everything was okay, and that there was no need to chew someone out for causing a disturbance.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Eddie asked, shuffling up to him. The sun was warm on his skin; a nice change from the shadowy cold warehouse, and Steve basked in it as well, golden hair flopping in the gentle breeze.

There was a moment where they both displayed their nervous habits. Eddie with his tongue prodding the inner corner of his lips, and Steve taking inventory of his surroundings during the drag of his cigarette.

“Look,” Steve stressed. Eddie sighed. “We haven’t seen much of you lately, and Nancy had the idea to go to the theater to see that horror movie that came out a few weeks ago. We’ll probably have the whole place to ourselves, and she, ah, invited someone else. Someone who is also single, if you catch my very obvious drift.”

Eddie’s hand immediately climbed its way to his throat, stroking the column and making a sound of disinterest. “I dunno, man.”

“Well, we’ve already paid the babysitter to watch a third kid, and we don’t mind Adrie sleeping over for the night. You can drop her off at 4 and, uh–” He nodded at his coveralls. “Get cleaned up, or whatever and meet us at 6. Make a good first impression.” At Eddie’s apathetic grunt, he sighed, “I know what you’re gonna say, but your date’s already agreed to go, and it’d be a shame if you left them hanging.”

Rolling his shoulders, Eddie forced himself to stop fidgeting by stuffing his hands in his pockets, and focused on the clouds crawling across the sky. “Fine. What’re they like?”

“Your date?”

“Yes, my fucking date you moron.”

Steve shrugged with a mischievous grin. “Dunno. I said Nancy’s the one who invited her, not me.”

Eddie faltered, “So, you don’t even know if she’s into someone like me?” When Steve quirked his eyebrow, it just increased Eddie’s agitation. He made sweeping motions down his body. Steve continued to smoke with a dumb pout. “Jesus, dude.” He stamped in a circle, making a big show with his arms, imploring with an exhausted bite to his tone, “You know what I’m asking.”

“No, I don’t know if she’s into metalhead freaks who are dads, sorry.”

“You’re the bane of my existence.”

“So it’s an official ‘yes?’” he asked without the sarcasm. “I mean, you might as well show up. Wayne’s got his poker tournament with his friends today, doesn’t he? That means you’ll have the place to yourself. Hey, play your cards right and you’ll get some action tonight. I imagine you haven’t gotten lucky since Adrie’s conception, yeah?”

Steve’s laugh was explosive and loud, but it petered out to a pitying noise the longer Eddie squinted into the distance.

“Really? I was just trying to joke with you. Sorry, man.”

Eddie lifted one side of his mouth in a dull grin. “S’kay.”

“Well,” Steve said, flicking the rest of his cigarette. “Just be yourself. Maybe keep the nerdy talk to a minimum, and you’re golden.” He turned to leave, and stopped. “Oh! And Robin’s back in town, if you didn’t hear. She’ll be there tonight too, serving as the fifth wheel, so at least you won’t be the most awkward one there. Come to think of it, I think it’s her friend who’ll be your date.”

“Sounds promising.”

“See ya at 6!” Steve said as he opened the door and fell into place behind the wheel, beaming pure sunshine up at Eddie.

“Yeah, bye.”

Going back inside the garage, it took a second for Eddie’s eyes to adjust to the darkness, and his first inclination was to look over at you behind your desk, totally filling out the paperwork in front of you, regardless if you were holding a pen or not.

Many thoughts crossed his mind upon watching you open random drawers, and shuffle papers to appear busy. Rationally, he should’ve jumped at the chance for Steve’s offer. A night out with someone without the looming responsibility of adulthood sounded like heaven.. But there was a knot in his stomach telling him to reject the date–not because he couldn’t be bothered, like Steve assumed, but because he pictured someone specific the instant he spoke the arrangement into existence.

The jaded, pessimistic part of him argued it shouldn’t matter what you thought about his love life. You two were hardly friends, and you were a drifter in search of your next big adventure. This small town wasn’t your home. You’d move on. And he should too.

He opened the glass door, and you feigned like you hadn’t been staring at him and Steve attempting to read their lips for the past few minutes. “Hey, I’ve got somewhere to be later, so I’ll actually be leaving on time today.”

“Oh, good!” you said. “Me too.”

Eyeing your thumbs up, he snorted and shook his head.

Yeah, he should move on before this feeling in his chest evolved into something bigger.

Taglist: @tlclick73 @kimmi-kat @hanahkatexo @eds1986 @mirrorsstuff @creoleguurl @loveshotzz @hazydespair @trashmouth-richie @omgshesinsane @lightcommastix @rose-tinted @lmili @wisestarlightwolf @secretdryrose @reefer-robin @aysheashea @eddiemunsons-world @mystars123 @bebe0701 @yeoldedumbslut @tayhar811 @christalcake @junggoku @fantasy-is-best @wendyfawcett @vintagehellfire @fezcoismypimp @xxsunflowerloverxx @jessepinkmanloml @nwhspidey @violetsandroses8 @kennedy-brooke @ughli @alana4610 @bmunson86 @sikirukn @hayleeshar @it-is-up-to-you @feralgoblinbabe @sammararaven

[supernovafics]

𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 (𝟏)

PART ONE | PART TWO

pairing: singledad!steve harrington x divorcedmom!fem!reader

word count: 9.4k words

summary: in which you hate him and he hates you— and that mutual disliking is perhaps the only thing you and him agree on. you make it your mission to avoid and ignore steve at all costs, and nothing more or less than withering stares and annoyed eye rolls are shared among you both whenever you have to see each other, which luckily isn’t that often. but when your son and his daughter end up in the same first-grade class and quickly become friends, it forces things to change between you two. it means that you and him also have to be friends, or, at the very least, tolerate each other’s presence. which is something that is much easier said than done

warnings: modern!au, enemies (to friends) to lovers, steve and reader are in their late 20s/early 30s, bestfriend!eddie, mentions of cheating/an affair (reader’s ex was an absolute asshole), explicit language, some angst

author’s note: i had the idea for this lil two part mini series (and have been working on it on and off) for like a thousand years at this point and i'm so glad and excited that it's finally free from the jail cell that is my google docs lol. i really really wanted to finish this and have it up before this year was over, so part two is coming new year's eve<3333

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

For the first time in the past two weeks, you were early. Granted it was only by two minutes, but you still counted that as a win. 

You stepped out of your car and headed to where the other parents were on the sidewalk, waiting for school to be over and the kids to come out. You inwardly ran through the list of things that you still had to do today— on a Friday that should’ve been calm, but instead, it had been pretty hectic. 

It felt like pure luck that you were able to step away from your coffee shop for thirty minutes to pick up Oliver from school. God bless Jude for being willing to take over the rush that was happening. She was your favorite employee, and you knew that she definitely deserved a raise for being able to effectively keep up with the insanity that the last two weeks brought.

That transition from summer into the beginning of the new school year was harder than you had anticipated, and you knew it was mainly because this time last year you weren’t running a business full-time when Oliver had been starting Kindergarten. Instead, the coffee shop was still just an idea, a dream, that felt like it solely lived in your head; even though it had actually been in its final stages, and with each passing day, you only got closer and closer to that October opening date. And when the long-awaited opening finally came, it actually didn’t alleviate an ounce of your stress; instead, it was only increased practically tenfold. 

You’d never say it out loud for fear of being deemed as a bad mom, but it was so fucking hard juggling everything and trying to handle it all.

However, somehow, you were doing it and you were actually doing it pretty well. Although at most times it felt like you were so close to drowning, for the time being, your head was completely above water.

You kept running through your mental to-do list as you waited for the time to go from 2:29pm to 2:30pm, indicating the official end of the school day.

Call the vendors that supply the coffee beans and teas and see if they can change the next delivery date, finalize the work schedule for next week, prep the ingredients for the pastries that will be baked tomorrow—

Your eyes instinctively went to check the time on your watch right as the first handful of kids came barreling out of the front doors. 

When you saw Olly, you waved until his eyes landed on you and he immediately smiled. 

Suddenly, you couldn’t care less about the time and the rest of the shit that you needed to do throughout the day.

“I made a new friend!” Were the first words he said to you when he came over to where you stood.

“That’s awesome!” You kneeled down so that you were pretty much at eye level with him. Hearing him say that made your heart feel so happy. You knew how shy he could be and he rarely ever talked about any kids that he was friends with, especially not with this much enthusiasm. “Who is it?” 

“Maddie,” He answered and then pointed in the direction of where you assumed the girl was standing.

There were a handful of kids standing with their parents in the direction Olly was pointing to about ten or fifteen feet away, but when he further specified that she was “the girl holding the blue lunchbox,” you saw her. A girl with brown hair who was smiling at her dad who was smiling back at her and holding a hand up so that she could give it a high five. 

You recognized him immediately.

In your mind, his name was “the worst person in the world.” In reality, his name was Steve Harrington. 

You didn’t really pay attention to him until this past January because your kids weren’t in the same Kindergarten class. You actually didn’t even learn that he was the only other single parent in the grade until then. 

It was one of your New Year’s resolutions to become more active and involved in school activities, PTA meetings, etc. Mainly because you knew that the other Kindergarten moms were judging you for barely doing anything aside from the occasional bake sale and the school was way too small for you to slip under the radar and not be noticed; those moms noticed everything. 

Therefore, on the first meeting back after the Winter holiday break, you were there— five minutes late, but there nonetheless. Although, it could’ve been assumed that everyone thought you were an hour late with the amount of withering looks you received when you entered the gymnasium. 

You offered a small apologetic smile and made a mental note to never be even a minute late again. 

Leslie, the PTA president, was droning on and on about what big things were planned for the second half of the school year— somehow dragging out a short list of things that you thought could’ve been simply sent out in a mass email— when Steve walked in fifteen minutes after you. You fully expected him to receive the same type of annoyed looks that you had gotten, and maybe even more because he showed up later than you, but he got nothing but happy smiles from the majority of the moms. 

That complete opposite reaction severely confused you and you wondered how he was able to receive such niceness when all you got was the coldest of shoulders. 

Meeting after meeting it was continuously proven that he was the favorite among the moms, and it didn’t take you too long to learn why. He was a charmer, which everyone absolutely loved, and he seemed to effortlessly throw money at any school activity or fundraising event, another reason why he was so goddamn adored. 

You were probably the only one that didn’t give a fuck about his charming personality, and instead, you would inwardly roll your eyes or scoff at pretty much anything he’d say and how easily the moms ate it up. Because when you really looked at it, you two were pretty much doing the same exact things— only moderately participating in events, showing up to the big monthly meetings instead of the weekly ones (and he was still always late to them), and not signing up for fields trips or activities that happened during school hours because of how overly demanding your jobs were; you’d learned from one particularly chatty mom that he worked at a pretty intense marketing firm. However, there was such a stark difference in treatment because he was the “hot single dad that gave a lot of money;” all of the moms practically fell at his feet and seemed to only tolerate you.

Maybe it was a hint of jealousy talking, but he still always managed to piss you off and you didn’t like him at all. It was an animosity that was perhaps just one-sided, and you hated yourself for caring so much, but that changed in April; during a moment where if the circumstances were different, it would’ve felt like some sort of romcom-esque “meet cute.” But, you basically despised Steve, so instead the whole situation just made your blood boil. 

It was a Thursday at almost five o’clock during parent-teacher conference week; it was the only day that could work in your insanely busy schedule and you managed to get the latest time slot with Oliver’s teacher. You were pacing in the hallway where all three of the Kindergarten classrooms were; a coffee in one hand, because it was the only thing keeping you going that late in the day, and your phone in the other as you texted back an employee who was having problems with the oven. You were seconds away from calling him— because you knew that the issue would probably be solved quicker if you did so— but before you could, you were bombarded by someone who was quickly coming around the corner and they crashed into you. The abrupt collision was forceful enough to make your drink spill on you and your phone slip out of your hand. 

You glanced down at your now coffee-stained white shirt and then up at the person who had caused this mess, and of course, it was Steve Harrington standing in front of you. You had to fight the immediate urge to roll your eyes. 

“Oh, shit. My bad,” He quickly said. “I’m minutes away from being late for my parent-teacher meeting, so I was rushing from the parking lot. Now it really does make sense why teachers always said no running in the halls, right? Because something like this can happen.” As he rambled, you picked up your phone off the ground, glad that it wasn’t broken, and then you tossed your now mostly empty coffee cup into the trash can nearby. When you looked back at him, you saw that he was fishing his wallet out of his back pocket. “Anyway, maybe I can pay for your dry cleaning? Or so you can at least get another coffee later or tomorrow?”

If it had been anyone else, you would’ve thought that the gesture was nice. But, since it was coming from Steve Harrington it only pissed you off because, of course, money was his immediate thought solution.

That time it was too difficult to not allow yourself to roll your eyes at him. “Y’know, throwing money at everything doesn’t make you a good dad. It actually makes you kind of an asshole.” 

You knew that you were being a little too harsh, but it was still too hard to feel completely regretful about your words; you were pissed at this current situation that was fully caused by him and you were also pissed simply because he was him.

You weren’t sure what you expected Steve to respond with, but he easily matched your angry energy. He narrowed his eyes at you. “Well, at least, I can do something. You barely show up to things and can’t give money to make up for it, so how much of a ‘good mom’ does that make you?”

Before you could say anything in response to that— a response that probably would’ve started and ended with a simple “Fuck you”— you heard your name being called from behind you by Oliver’s teacher. With everything happening with the man in front of you right then, you’d almost forgotten the meeting you were at the school for in the first place. 

Instead of saying anything to Steve, you simply buttoned up the black cardigan you were wearing to cover the majority of the coffee stain on your shirt and then walked away from him, putting on a smile and greeting Miss Wilson.

It wasn’t outwardly stated right then, but it was pretty much sealed then that this disliking could no longer be confused for being something that was one-sided. You two hadn’t said any words to each other since that moment in the hallway, and instead only annoyed looks and glares were shared anytime you saw one another; which lucky for you, actually wasn’t too frequent. 

On the first day of school, you learned that his daughter was in the same First Grade class as Oliver due to the emergency contact form all the parents had to fill out, which was then condensed into one sheet and shared among everyone for “just in case” purposes, and Steve’s name and number was on there. You really didn’t think it would be that big of a deal because you could still avoid him like the plague that he was, and that was exactly what you’d been doing for the last two weeks. 

However, you did not think that your kids would become friends.

“Can we have a playdate tomorrow?” Oliver asked. 

You racked your brain for a response; a way to say no without actually saying it because you really did hate disappointing him. “Oh, um, this weekend is gonna be really busy. But, maybe soon though, okay?” 

He frowned a bit but still nodded. “Okay.”

You held out your hand so that he could slip his in and then you started heading to your car.

“We have to go back to the coffee shop for a few more hours before we can go home. But, how does pizza for dinner tonight sound?” You asked as you buckled him in his car seat. The offer was an attempt to cheer him up and you hoped it worked; probably like every other six-year-old, Oliver loved pizza.

He smiled at that. “Ooh, yeah, that’s good.”  

You smiled back at him and inwardly hoped that this playdate idea would blow over over the next few days. And that the thought of you having to spend any sort of willing time with Steve Harrington would become a scary thought that only occasionally haunted your dreams, instead of it being something that actually became real.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

Of course, it did not blow over. 

Excuse after excuse would fall from your lips, but Olly was determined and your words of “Today’s really busy” or “This weekend probably won’t be good” didn’t discourage him from continuing to ask. 

As the days came and went and a week passed with Olly asking the same question each day, you were so close to sucking it up and calling Steve and finally setting something up, but you were still way too fucking prideful to do so.

That didn’t stop you from thinking about doing it most days, though. But it was easier not to think about it when you were busying yourself at the coffee shop, and it was almost too easy to make yourself busy in some way there. And that was something that didn’t change on this Friday.

Oliver was sitting in his favorite booth working on homework and you were behind the counter, making a simple hot chocolate for the older woman who would come in almost every afternoon, typically around four o’clock. 

“Enjoy,” You said with a smile as you handed her the drink. 

Things in the coffee shop were calm and quiet, and you were about to go see if Oliver needed any help with the worksheets he was doing, but then your phone started vibrating in your back pocket. When you grabbed it, you saw that it was a random number calling, and maybe you should’ve thought about that fact more before answering, but you didn’t. 

“Hello?”

“Has Oliver asked to have a playdate with Madeline?” You quickly recognized Steve’s voice.

You let out a small sigh. “At least once a day since last Friday.”

“Same here with Maddie,” Steve said and then let out a sigh of his own. “We need to let this happen. I don’t think either of them are gonna let it go.” 

At first, you didn’t say anything in response to his words. You wanted to disagree with Steve, but you knew that you couldn’t because it was the truth. And then there was the fact that every time you gave some sort of fake excuse to Olly, you would feel like the worst parent ever, so maybe it would be best to just finally let this happen. “You’re right. Are you free tomorrow?”

“Yes,” He answered. “We can just do a quick thing at the park if that’s good?”

That was exactly what you were about to suggest, but you didn't tell him that. “Yeah, that’s fine. Is twelve okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

Steve didn’t say anything in response to you and instead simply ended the call there. The lack of an actual goodbye almost made you want to roll your eyes in annoyance, but you didn’t because you knew that you probably would’ve done the same thing to him. 

You put your phone back in your pocket and walked over to the two-person booth Oliver was sitting at, sliding in across from him. “Hey, bud, I have really fun news. You and Maddie are finally gonna have your playdate tomorrow.”

Seeing the elated grin immediately take over his face made the fact that you’d be spending a few hours with Steve Harrington tomorrow worth it.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

You never thought you’d witness a moment where Steve was actually on time for something, but for once he was. When you pulled into the small parking lot of the park, you already saw him sitting on one of the wooden benches that surrounded the playground watching Maddie go down a slide.

Moments after the car was put in park, Oliver was unbuckling himself and rushing to get out so that he could head over to where Maddie was. You could only smile at his enthusiasm before telling him to slow down and be careful.

You took your time walking over to where Steve was because of how much you were dreading it, and for a moment you debated whether or not you should sit next to him or go to the bench that was empty and a few feet away. Ultimately, you decided to just sit next to him; you could be civil for a couple of hours. 

“Hi,” You said as you sat down on the wooden bench.

He looked at you just for a second before turning back to the playground. “Hey.”

“How are you?” You asked. It was always easy to go into the mundane small talk you’d have all day with customers; aside from the ones that were the regulars that you knew too well and couldn’t simply ask how they were doing without actually meaning it.

“Good,” Steve responded. “You?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” You answered with a small nod. 

A silence that could only be deemed as awkward began to linger in the air because it felt as if there was absolutely nothing else to say. If he was a customer, you would’ve simply taken his order and he would have walked away by now, but obviously, this wasn’t that kind of interaction. The only sound that could be heard was the handful of other parents with their children and your own kids looking happier than ever. 

It could’ve been easy for you to make some joke to Steve about how weird this entire situation felt because of how much animosity you had toward each other and now there you two were on a sort of playdate of your own because of your kids. And then the two of you would have laughed about this current set of circumstances, and maybe that would’ve allowed things to actually start to feel somewhat okay. But, it just felt way too hard to let yourself actually be civil toward him, even though you had told yourself that you would be.

“I’m very surprised you’re actually on time for something. After all the PTA meetings, I thought you were incapable of it,” You said, still staring straight ahead as you then took a sip from the water you had in your hand. 

“And you’re late, which is not surprising,” He told you with a small scoff.

Aside from that first time you had been late for the meeting, there was one other time where you were late again and, of course, that was also the one time where Steve managed to be a little bit earlier than you. Given that he had been late countless times, you felt that it was both stupid and unwarranted for him to use the single time he saw you late against you.

“Whatever,” You said as you rolled your eyes. “Not that I even owe you an explanation for being only five minutes late today, but the coffee shop was starting to have a rush right before me and Olly were about to leave, and I didn’t want to leave my employee right then to completely fend for himself.”

“That’s interesting because every time I drive by the place, it looks the complete opposite of busy.” 

Perhaps this entire conversation immediately taking the shittiest turn was your fault because you “fired the first shot,” but his words felt equivalent to a low blow. You pretended as if you were completely unaffected by them and tried your hardest not to recognize the slight validity behind them— the coffee shop had its peak times and also its deserted moments, and maybe sometimes it did feel a bit more deserted than not, but you were surviving and right then that was all that mattered you.  

You glared harshly at him although he wasn’t even looking back at you. Muttering a “Fuck you” was right on the tip of your tongue, but you bit it back and instead got up from the bench and started moving to an empty one. Steve didn’t say anything else to you and instead seemed completely unfazed by you walking away from him. 

You watched Oliver and Maddie talking and laughing at the top of a slide that was big enough to fit both of them and they went down it together. Seeing how happy Olly was and knowing that this was the first friend he actually wanted to spend time with outside of school, made dealing with Steve’s bullshit right then completely okay with you. 

When two o’clock rolled around, you were waving Oliver over to you, much to his dismay.

“I know it’s time to go, but can we all get food together?” He asked when he walked over to you.

For once, the excuse for saying no that you were about to tell him wasn’t a made-up one. “We gotta go pick Eddie up from the airport, remember? Also, he told me that he has a bunch of cool stuff to give you from California.” 

“Oh, yeah,” Oliver said, a smile taking over his face. “I almost forgot he was coming today.” 

He went over to where Maddie was now standing with Steve and he gave her a quick hug goodbye before running back over to you.

Instead of giving any sort of verbal goodbye to Steve, you simply gave him a small wave. It was hard to wrap your head around the fact that you’d now probably have to see him more often than not. With how happy Oliver and Maddie looked playing together, you knew that today definitely wouldn’t just be a one-time thing.

Somehow with the wave Steve gave back to you, you could tell that he knew that too.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

You were in no way related to Eddie Munson, but he felt more like family than your actual family. 

He was the first person you met when you moved to Hawkins three years ago. After going through a messy divorce that felt like it had actively taken at least ten years off of your life, it felt so goddamn nice to immediately make a friend in this town that was completely new to you.  

Coming from Chicago, a city that had always felt way too big for you, any small town sounded perfect in your eyes, and you were able to find a cheap-ish house in Hawkins, so it was the winner.

You met Eddie at a grocery store a week after you’d moved in. It was also your birthday, a fact that three-year-old Oliver didn’t fail to tell Eddie when you accidentally bumped into him— quite literally crashed your cart into the guy— in the bread aisle. 

“Happy birthday,” He had said to you and you gave him a small smile before proceeding to say another sorry for bumping your cart into him. He then looked at Oliver. “Are you gonna bake a birthday cake for her?” 

Oliver visibly brightened and turned to you. “Ooh, yeah, can we bake a cake?”

“Sure,” You nodded and smiled at his eagerness. 

He smiled widely and then looked back at Eddie. “Can you come over and help us make it?” 

“Oh, um…” Eddie’s eyes met yours to see what you wanted him to say. 

“You can, if you want,” You told him and you genuinely meant your words. He seemed normal, and even though this was a small town, he was the first person who had been so outwardly nice to you and Olly. 

“Okay, yeah, I’d love to help,” He said with a nod. “I’m Eddie, by the way.” 

You told him your name and then gestured to Olly. “And this is Oliver.” 

“Sorry for suggesting this idea and contributing to the sugar high that will probably be happening tonight,” Eddie told you as you moved to the next aisle where all of the baking stuff was, you were giving Oliver full reign over what cake mix you got. 

“Apology not accepted,” You responded but still smiled at him.  

Many hours later, when the cake was baked and Oliver was tucked away in bed after having two pieces of it, you pulled out a bottle of wine for you and Eddie to drink. And then because of the wine and because of the fact that birthdays always managed to bring something severely melancholic out of you, you started crying to him about your divorce that had just been finalized, the affair that your husband had with his coworker being the catalyst for said divorce, and how you felt so weirdly alone in this new town but also not at all alone because you had Oliver. 

Somehow none of that managed to scare him away— even though you would’ve been completely understanding if it had— and a friendship had been cemented ever since. 

Eight months ago, he moved to California because of a huge opportunity he got with his music; it was something he had been waiting for for so many years. You had called it a “big break,” but he thought that sounded too pretentious. 

You hadn’t really wanted him to leave, he was your best friend— your only friend in this town— but you were also so happy for him. And the distance actually managed to feel somewhat okay because you two would talk all the time and he’d visit every few months.

Oliver especially didn’t mind the distance because whenever Eddie did come back to Hawkins for a visit, it always meant that he’d get some cool new toys from him. And this time proved to be no different. 

The three of you were in the coffee shop. It was quiet right then— you didn’t think about Steve’s words from earlier— and you watched Eddie smile at Oliver as he animatedly talked about something, you assumed he was telling Eddie about Madeline.

Moments later, Eddie walked over to where you stood behind the counter, beginning the clean-up process because you were closing in about an hour. 

“It’s really nice seeing how fucking– I mean fudging,” He turned around to see if Oliver heard what he’d just said, but Olly was too busy playing with his new red toy car to hear anything. “Happy he is. All he’s been doing is rambling about his new friend.” 

“Yeah, it’s really great,” You said, smiling as you thought about how happy he had been at the park earlier. You then thought about Steve and inwardly sighed. “Well, for the most part.”

“Why? Is she a bad influence or something? I didn’t think there could be bad influences in first grade,” Eddie said and then laughed a bit. “Actually, scratch that, I was definitely a bad influence in first grade.”

An amused look crossed your face. “You talk a lot about this “bad boy persona” you used to have, but I don’t know if I really believe it because all I see is a guy that actually enjoys buying toys for a six-year-old.”

He smiled at that. “I changed. Turned over a new leaf.”

“Mhm, got it,” You responded, your voice slightly sarcastic because it was still hard to imagine Eddie as anything other than the nice guy who baked a cake with you and Oliver on your birthday. “Anyway, though, it’s not the girl that’s the problem; she’s really sweet and nice. It’s her parent that’s the worst person in the world.” 

Eddie nodded. “Okay, tell me all about this mean mom drama.”  

“It’s a dad, actually,” You said and then started explaining everything that you had never said aloud before. You told Eddie all of it— how Steve was so easily able to throw money at anything the school needed, how he was basically treated like a King among the other moms because of that, the incident that happened last year during parent-teacher conference week where everything between you two fully came to a head, and the shitty conversation you had with him at the park only hours earlier. 

“Wow, I’ve missed a lot. I can’t believe you have a nemesis, and I also can’t believe you never told me about him.”

“He’s the last thing I ever want to think about, let alone talk about. If it wasn’t for Oliver becoming friends with his daughter, you wouldn’t be hearing about him. Also, I feel like “nemesis” is a bit of an exaggeration.”

“I can call him your mortal enemy, if you want,” Eddie said with a teasing smile and you only rolled your eyes in response, refraining from flipping him off. “What’s his name? Maybe I know him. Aside from you, people rarely ever move to this town for fun, so he’s probably been here his whole life.”

You actually never thought about the potential of Eddie knowing Steve, although it was completely plausible given the reason your friend just mentioned. 

“Steve Harrington.” 

“Oh.” 

From Eddie’s reaction, the answer to your next question seemed pretty obvious but you still decided to ask it. “You know him?”

“Yeah, we were in high school at the same time.” 

“Okay, what was he like?” 

“All the typical high school stuff. He was a popular guy, played sports, was kind of a jerk but pretty much all of the girls still loved him.” 

You scoffed and rolled your eyes. “That sounds very accurate.” 

“By the end of it, though, he seemed like somewhat of a changed guy. Got his heart broken by the nice girl, and then became friends with actual good people,” Eddie told you, and that was the one part of his description of the Steve that he had known that managed to actually surprise you. “I didn’t know he had a kid now.”

“Yup, and he’s also changed back into the jerk that you originally knew him as in high school,” You said. “And the most fuc— fudged up part of it all is that we should be friends. Which probably makes me sound crazy because of everything I just said, but it’s true. Me and him are basically in the same boat— the only single parents in the grade, we both have time-consuming jobs, and now even our kids are friends with each other. It would just make sense if we were actually friends too.”

“I mean, you still could be, right?”

You immediately shook your head. “Wrong. There’s no way that could ever happen.” 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

The rest of September and most of October flew by with what felt like an abrupt kind of quickness. 

Absolutely nothing changed between you and Steve, even with Eddie’s idea that maybe it could. The only time the two of you talked to each other was if it involved your kids and if you were setting up the day and time for another park playdate, which quickly managed to become a weekly thing because of how adamant Oliver and Madeline were— just like you assumed they’d be. 

It may have seemed a little weird, these brief conversations you’d have with one another that were nothing more and nothing less than transactional, but it worked perfectly for you two. 

“This weekend is gonna be pretty busy for me, so is tomorrow after school good?” You asked Steve. A PTA meeting had just ended and you and him were lingering by the same exit that the kids would come out of when school was over. 

You were pretty close to not showing up to this Thursday night meeting, but you knew that you had to because it was about the Winter Carnival happening in December. It was a huge event that would be an “all hands on deck” kind of situation, which was why they talked about it so far in advance and why attendance at any meeting discussing it was pretty much mandatory.  

Steve shook his head at your question. “I have this big work thing tomorrow, so I have to pick up Maddie and then drop her off at the babysitter before rushing back to the city.”

You nodded understandingly at his words. A part of you knew that you should have left it at that, because you tried to set something up and that should’ve been more than enough of an effort, but instead, you found yourself saying, “I can pick her up and take the two of them to the park tomorrow if you want.”

Steve was quiet and your words simply lingered in the open air. You almost regretted making the suggestion because you felt as if he was somehow going to find a way to be a dick about it, but then he looked at you curiously, and another look that you couldn’t decipher crossed his face too as he said, “You sure?”

You nodded at him. “Yeah, it’s really no problem.” And it honestly wasn’t a problem in the slightest; Madeline was the sweetest girl ever. She reminded you nothing of Steve, so you assumed that she got her personality from her mom; you still had no idea what that entire situation entailed. “What time will you be done with work?”

“Hopefully around five or six,” He answered. There was still that look on his face, which you still couldn’t tell what it said, but you really wanted to know.  

“Okay, after the park, I can take them back to my house and you can pick Maddie up from there when you’re done with work,” You said, only a little surprised at how easily this idea came together. “Olly’s been wanting to show her his new fish, anyway.”

“Yeah, I think she’s mentioned his fish to me probably a thousand times. It’s blue and purple, right?”

“Yeah, it’s a betta fish; Barnaby.”

“Barnaby?”

You shrugged. “I have no idea how Olly came up with that name, but I will admit that it does sound more like the name of an old sailor lost at sea rather than a fish. But, in some weird way, both of those things are actually kind of related.” 

Steve laughed at that and somehow it didn’t sound the least bit mocking or condescending, it was more amused. Hearing that sound coming from him shocked you as much as it, surprisingly, made you inwardly smile. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

The amount of dark clouds in the sky didn’t necessarily faze you until a raindrop hit your cheek as you sat on a park bench watching Oliver and Madeline on the playground. It was a light drizzle that transformed into something heavier in a matter of minutes and you realized that you probably should’ve been more mindful of what the weather was going to be today. 

Neither of the kids really minded the rain putting an end to their time at the park though, because Oliver was happy to go home so that Maddie could finally see the fish.

They bounded up the stairs to Olly’s room the second you unlocked the front door, and you headed to the kitchen, sending a simple text to Steve in the process. 

You: Had to leave the park because of the rain. We’re at my place now

At first, the lack of a response from him didn’t surprise you because it was only around four-thirty and he was probably busy. He was also Steve Harrington and he rarely ever responded to you in a timely manner. 

You heard the sound of footsteps racing down the stairs and you looked up from your phone, after checking it for probably the hundredth time in the past hour, to see Olly and Maddie coming into the kitchen.

“Can you convince my dad to get me a fish?” Maddie asked as she and Olly joined you at the small dining table. 

You smiled and nodded at her. “I can try.” 

“Thanks,” She said, smiling back at you. “The only time I get to see any pets is at my Aunt Robin’s house. She has a golden retriever.” 

“Oh, that’s really cool. What’s its name?”

“Willow. She’s a girl.” 

Oliver looked at you. “Can we get a dog next?” 

“Let’s just worry about Barnaby for now,” You told Olly, giving him a small smile. You could only imagine how much more hectic your life would become if you two got a dog anytime soon. “I was thinking about doing dino nuggets and french fries for you guys for dinner. How does that sound?”

They both perked up at that and nodded and you got up to turn on the oven, purposefully leaving your phone on the table because you wanted a break from impulsively checking it every few minutes. It slightly annoyed you that you heard nothing from Steve yet, and it annoyed you even more that the lack of a response felt personal. You wondered if he actually hadn’t seen your message yet, or if he was simply being an asshole and not responding with a simple “Okay” or even a thumbs up to it on purpose. 

It wasn’t until the time was a little after six, and you still hadn’t heard anything from Steve, that your initial annoyance toward him not responding to you and not giving you any sort of updates on what was happening with him over the past few hours, morphed into something that resembled worry. 

You walked out of the living room and into the kitchen and pulled your phone out of your back pocket so that you could call him. Your gaze moved toward the window as you pressed your phone to your ear; the weather outside still looked pretty shitty. The call went straight to voicemail and you sighed as you waited for the beep. 

“Hey, um, it’s me. That’s probably very obvious. Um, anyway, you said you’d be done with work around five or six, but I haven’t heard anything from you in the last couple of hours… I hope everything’s fine. Um, any sort of update would be really nice. Call, or at least text me, whenever you get this. Okay… Bye.”

You hung up and slipped your phone back in your pocket.

It was an obvious fact that you didn’t like Steve Harrington, but that didn’t mean you wanted anything bad to happen to him. 

The only thing that managed to not make you feel completely worried was that Maddie seemed okay and not worried at all. Instead, she and Olly were in the living room playing in the fort you made for them out of couch cushions and throw blankets.

You went back into the living room and sat down on the small loveseat that was the only piece of furniture that still had its cushion left. 

“You guys okay in there?” 

“Yup!”

“Yes!”  

Hearing their chorus of happy “yeses” made you inwardly sigh in relief and lean back into the chair, letting your eyes shut just for a second and muttering to yourself that everything was and would be fine. 

Your phone was still glued to your hand as you grabbed the remote with your other and turned on a random Disney movie for the kids to listen to as background noise and for you to take your mind off of Steve, even though all you were waiting and hoping for was for your phone to vibrate in your hand with a call or text from him. 

You didn’t realize that you’d fallen asleep in the chair until you were startled awake by the sound of the doorbell ringing. The abruptness of it actually managed to scare you, so much so that you could immediately feel your heartbeat pounding in your ears when you opened your eyes. 

The second Lilo & Stitch movie was now playing on the TV and through your half-awake haze, you found the remote to pause it. You then peeked inside the fort and saw that Olly and Maddie were asleep. 

As you rubbed the slight tiredness out of your eyes and got up from the couch, you checked your phone and saw that the time was 8:11pm. The doorbell rang again as you unlocked the door and the first thing that you noticed when you opened it was that it was no longer raining, you were unsure when it had finally stopped. 

“Hi.”

Seeing Steve standing in front of you managed to immediately wash away the worry you had been feeling for the last couple of hours. And it was quickly and completely replaced with the annoyance you’d initially felt. “What the hell happened?” 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” Hearing a genuine apology come from Steve Harrington’s mouth actually managed to baffle you. “My meeting at work ran over, and there was no way to get out of it, not even for a second. And then there was a ton of traffic because of the rain, so a drive that typically only takes thirty minutes took longer than an hour. Also, I have the worst and probably oldest phone in the world because it never holds a charge anymore, and it was plugged in during the entire drive but didn’t turn on at all. So, I’m really sorry that I haven’t been able to call or text or anything. These past few hours have been hell.” He let out a sigh and then looked at you, concerned. “How’s Maddie? Is she okay?”

There were a lot of words that had been thrown at you during Steve’s ramble, but hearing his full explanation and how apologetic he was made your annoyance with him dissipate into nothing just like your worry did. Instead, you felt a little bad for him because of all the shit he had to endure in the past few hours. You pushed the door open further to fully let him in. 

“She’s good. She’s okay. She and Olly are sleeping in the living room. I made them a little fort,” You told him as he walked in and you pointed to where the kids were in the living room, and he nodded when he saw the construction of couch cushions and blankets. 

You looked at Steve and hesitated for a moment. You knew that this was where the goodbyes for the night should’ve started, but it didn’t feel right to have him leave just yet; he still seemed sort of frazzled and stressed about everything that happened. You started heading toward the kitchen and he followed you. “Do you maybe, uh, want something to drink?” 

“Yeah, sure.” 

“Okay, I have water and juice boxes,” You told him and turned around to meet his eyes, he was leaning against the small island. “It’s moments like these where it sucks being the “good influence/leading by example” parent because I can’t offer you something fun, like a soda.”

Steve laughed a bit; it still felt so foreign hearing that sound from him. “A juice box is fine. That’s probably all that lives at my house too.”

You grabbed one from the fridge and then closed it. “I hope you like apple.”

“My favorite, actually,” He said as you handed the drink to him, and you couldn’t tell if he was joking or not, but you didn’t have enough time to really ponder that before he completely changed the subject. “How was Maddie when you picked her up? When I told her about it this morning, she seemed excited about it and about hanging out with Oliver after school too, but was she really okay?” 

You nodded at his question. “She was great. They both had fun at the park and didn’t even mind the rain because they really wanted to come here and see the fish.”

He smiled and you could see the immediate relief wash over his face. “Okay.”

“She also wants me to try and convince you to get her a fish.”

“Of course she does,” He said before taking a sip from the juice box. You had to admit, it was a little funny seeing a man wearing professional clothes, that were probably so expensive, drinking from a tiny juice box meant for little kids. 

“I’m honestly kinda surprised that you pick her up every day,” You told him as you turned and went back into the fridge to pull out a water for yourself. “Given your job, I thought you’d just have a babysitter or someone pick her up most of the time. I had no idea it was half an hour away.”

“I didn’t used to do it… Her, um, her mom would,” He said and you could tell by the way he said those words that whatever happened involving Maddie’s mom was a touchy subject. It sounded similar to how you’d usually sound whenever you talked about Oliver’s dad— a little sad and a lot like you’d rather talk about anything else. 

Your mind started desperately trying to think of a way to change the subject; it was what you would’ve wanted him to do for you if the tables were turned. But, before you could say the first thing that came to mind, which was, “So, I wonder if it’s gonna rain tomorrow too,” Steve started talking again. 

“It had become a routine because of how hectic my job is. She’d always drop Maddie off and pick her up. But, she, uh… She left last year, so that changed everything,” He told you. You closed the fridge and turned around to face him; you forgot to grab your water but that was the last thing on your mind right then.

This conversation suddenly felt like completely uncharted territory between you and Steve because you two did not talk about touchy subjects— you and him barely talked about anything at all. But, for some odd reason, you didn’t necessarily mind the serious turn to the conversation because maybe it was a shit ton of honesty that was needed for you two to actually, finally, not dislike each other.

Steve ran a hand through his hair and pulled his eyes away from yours. He instead fixed his attention on his juice box in hand. “It happened around this time in October. She dropped Maddie off at school, but didn’t pick her up.” 

Hearing him say that surprised you as much as it confused you because you had absolutely no idea that happened last year. But with how busy you’d been then, and since you weren’t friends with any of the “gossipy” moms that somehow always knew everything, it did make a little sense why you knew nothing. 

“Maddie was waiting in the office for about two hours after school was over before I could get there because I was in a meeting and didn’t see the calls coming from the school. She didn’t really know what was happening, but she was still so sad and I think that somehow a small part of her did know.” He shook his head and sighed, a look that could only be deemed as melancholic crossed his face. “I never want her to feel abandoned like that again, so I always make sure to drop her off and pick her up now.”

As he said his last words, something managed to shift inside of you in a matter of a split second. Suddenly, his name was no longer “the worst person in the world” in your mind. 

In all of your months of having this “nemesis relationship” — as Eddie would call it— with Steve Harrington, you never thought that your opinion of him would ever be able to change. However, in this moment of you two standing across from each other at your small kitchen island as Steve held a freaking juice box in his hand, it finally did. He was a good person, a really fucking good person.

You were able to see it so goddamn easily then— the exact ways that he and Maddie were just alike. She got her personality from him, you were now quite literally certain of it. And you immediately felt bad for ever thinking differently.

“I’m sorry about what I said last year during conference week,” You told him, suddenly ready to give him your own burst of honesty. “I was pissed that you spilled my coffee all over me, and I was even more pissed because it was you, and you annoyed me so much. Because even though we’re kind of in the same boat with the amount of “active” things we do for the school, all of the moms love you so much and I swear they hate me, and it’s just so annoying.” You let out a small sigh and then met his gaze before saying the words that you didn’t think you’d ever say to him. “Anyway, you’re a really good dad, and I’m so sorry for telling you differently.”

“I’m sorry for what I said that day too. You’re a really great mom,” He said, giving you a small smile, and it slightly shocked you how much hearing that meant to you. Aside from Eddie, you couldn’t remember the last time someone said that to you. “And I don't think the moms at school actually like me. I think they just pity me because of everything that happened, and how they basically saw it all blow up in real time. Since pre-school, Maddie’s mom was dropping her off and picking her up, and suddenly one day she was completely gone. I swear the number of times I got phone calls that were a bunch of them saying, “We’re here for you,” but they really just wanted to get the full story about what happened, was insane during those first few months.”

“Jesus, small town moms are the worst,” You said as you shook your head. “Or, at least, ours are.”

You looked away from Steve and turned around, finally going back to the fridge to grab a water. “Oliver’s dad was kind of the same way. He left too. Or maybe it’s actually not the same because I made him leave— he was having an affair with his coworker. But, he also wanted to leave and be with her, so maybe it actually is a little similar. Sorry, now I’m just rambling about that asshole,” You said and rolled your eyes at yourself. You weren’t sure why you even decided to circle the conversation back to your exes.  

“Do you and Oliver ever see him anymore?” Steve asked, and when you closed the fridge and turned back to face him, you shook your head at his question.

“Not since we moved here. He does the bare minimum and sends Olly checks for his birthday and Christmas. Which I think is dumb because no kid wants a check as a present; even I would rather get an actual gift than a stupid check,” You told Steve as you opened up your water. “Does Maddie ever see her mom, or does she ever come around sometimes?”

With the way she left, you were almost certain that the answer was no, but you were still curious.

“No, she hasn’t, and I don’t think she would ever want to,” Steve answered and you gave him a small nod of understanding before he continued. “I remember about a week after everything happened, and after avoiding my many calls and texts, she finally called me. She was really apologetic about the way she decided to leave, but she said that she just couldn’t do it anymore because none of this life that we had here was making her happy, and she didn’t want me to try and convince her to stay. When she said that, it made me realize that the smallest part of me knew that this would eventually happen. Maddie was completely unexpected and our relationship had already gotten pretty bad before we found out, so neither of us was remotely ready to be parents, but we still decided to do it and try to make it all work. Right when I saw Maddie for the first time I knew that she was the best thing that ever happened to me and I couldn’t imagine my life without her, and that never changed. But, it wasn’t the same way for her mom, and sometimes it seemed like she felt the complete opposite way. So, in a way, I can understand why she knew she had to leave. I hate the way that she did it, but ultimately I understand that this wasn’t the life she wanted, and she’d never want it.” A sad smile took over his face.

“We don’t have to keep talking about this if you don’t want to,” You told him, suddenly feeling bad that you had been the one to bring the conversation back to this in the first place. “We can change the subject to anything else. Maybe the weather? I wonder if it’s gonna rain again tomorrow…” 

“No, it’s okay,” Steve said. “I really never thought I’d say this because we’ve never had a real conversation before, but I think I actually like talking to you.” He shook his head at his words. “I’m sorry, that probably sounds fucked up.”

“No, don’t be sorry. I feel the same exact way. Ten minutes ago I couldn’t really stand the thought of having any sort of conversation with you, and now I feel like an idiot for hating you all this time. So, this is insanely fast progress,” You said and then immediately thought of something. “Wow, I really wish I had some alcohol for us to drink right now because us actually not despising each other anymore is a milestone that truly should be toasted to.”

Steve laughed a bit; it was nice hearing that sound after all the sad stuff that had just been shared by both of you. He raised his juice box toward you a bit. “This will have to do, I guess.”

You raised your water and “clinked” it with the juice box. “Cheers to… whatever we are now.”

It didn’t feel entirely like a friendship, but it, at least, felt like you two could actually be nice to one another and not feel pained to do so. 

“Cheers to that,” Steve said with a quick nod and then finished off the rest of what was left in his small juice box. “I should grab Maddie and head home. She has dance class at eight in the morning. She hates it for the most part, but she has a recital next week and I told her that she should push through until that and then we can quit. A part of me is kind of glad that she hates it, though, because classes are insanely expensive.”

“Olly’s starting soccer at the end of the month,” You told him. “It’s for boys and girls. You should see if Maddie wants to do that.”

“If Oliver’s doing it, she’ll probably say yes.”

You nodded at that and how true it was on both sides. “I’ll text you the information.”

“Thanks,” He said and smiled.

You followed him as he walked into the living room to get Maddie. She was still fast asleep as her arms circled around his neck when he picked her up. You grabbed her bookbag that she and Oliver left by the front door and helped Steve hook one of his arms in it.

Somehow something was silently exchanged in that last look shared between you and him before you said your final goodbyes for the night, and you softly shut and locked your door behind him. It was a look that expressed that you both were glad about what happened in the past twenty minutes— the honesty-filled conversation that led to you two finally understanding one another and realizing how you were actually more alike than either of you had ever thought. 

It was a realization that was simultaneously surprising and refreshing. 

“Goodnight,” You said, giving him a small smile and he smiled back at you. 

“Goodnight.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

let me know ur thoughts<333

PART TWO

[xxbimbobunnyxx]

Masterlist

All works are 18+ minors and blank blogs will be blocked!!

Steddie:

The Pull - Steddie x Succubus!Reader masterlist (complete)

You’ve been alone for as long as you can remember, floating around for decades and moving from place to place, never letting anyone close. But that all changes when you decide to move to Hawkins Indiana. You were expecting a quiet life in a small town, but that all changed when you arrived and immediately sensed them.

All You Have To Do Is Ask - Steddie x Reader

Ever since your boyfriend Steve found out that you lost your virginity to your friend Eddie he can’t stop thinking about the two of you together, the fantasies of you and Eddie tangled together running through his mind on repeat. It starts off with just the two of you but when the fantasies start to evolve and Eddie is touching him too, he doesn’t know how much longer he can take it.

Steve Harrington:

American Idiot - King!Steve x GothFem!Reader

Steve Harrington had it all. Money, popularity, the perfect girlfriend. He had his whole life planned and laid out for him, and he accepted that. Working for his dad and marrying his collage sweetheart wouldn’t be so bad, right? That’s what he thought at least, until he got paired to do a project with you and you turned his world upside down.

Jones and Leia - Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

You agree to match Steve’s Indiana Jones costume, but it’s definitely not what he was expecting.

Opposites Attract Masterlist - y2k!Steve Harrington x MallGoth!Reader (ongoing)

This is a series of one shots/blurbs about Steve and his goth girlfriend in the early 00s. This AU is a collaboration with @reidsbtch you can find the masterlist for her y2k!Eddie x Girli!Reader Here.

Spider Lilly (part 1) - Steve Harrington x Goth!Fem!Reader

You can’t stand Steve Harrington, you didn’t like him in highschool during his “King Steve” days and you don’t like him now. But even though you deny it, even to yourself, there’s always been something about him that made your heart beat speed up. When you’re stuck closing with him one night at Family Video… things finally boil over. (Soulmate AU)

Eddie Munson:

See You Again - Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader x Fem!OC

Your girlfriend surprises you with tickets to see your favorite band, Corroded Coffin for your birthday. You and her spent one magical night with the lead singer over a year ago before they made it big. Will he remember you? (He definitely will.)

Beer and Bunny’s - Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Eddie can’t seem to get himself to make a move on the new bartender at the hideout he has a crush on, but one night you decide to take matters into your own hands and he sees something that he just can’t resist.

Being Weird Is Cool Masterlist - SingleDad!Eddie x SingleMom!Reader (Ongoing)

When your late aunt leaves you her house in Hawkins you see it as a chance at fresh start and move there with your son. You didn’t expect to meet a caring metal head with kind eyes and his spitfire daughter. You didn’t expect to fall in love. You didn’t expect to find a family.

Cat and Mouse - Perv!Eddie x Perv!FemReader

Eddie thinks you are innocent and oblivious to all the pervy things he does behind your back, but what he doesn’t know is that you’re fully aware. Not only that, but you like it, and you just might be a bit of a perv yourself.

You’ll Never Be A Burden - Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

When you can’t get out of bed, answer your phone, or shake the feeling of hopelessness your boyfriend is there to reassure you that he will always be there for you no matter what.

Best Mates - FuckBoy!Alpha!Eddie Munson x Bestfriend!Omega!Reader

You’ve always been in love with your bestfriend, you never thought anything would ever come of it until you present as an omega and he spends your heat with you.

Licking his boots (blurb)

Halloween moodboard masterlist

[buckysimp101]

Love at First Grade (18+) - 1

Single Dad!Bucky Barnes x Single Mom!Reader

chapter warnings: none

a/n: I am so excited to work on this fic. I am a sucker for a good singledad!Bucky fic and to add the teacher!Bucky to it as well? A dream! let me know what you think of this first chapter in the comments! I hope y'all enjoy!

Series Masterlist

“Becca, come on you have to get up,” Bucky whispered as he lightly shook his sleeping, six year old daughter. Becca’s face twisted up in discontent as she attempted to pull her blanket up to prevent having to go to school.

“Sweetheart, don’t make me turn on the lights,” Bucky threatened lightly, not wanting to turn on the lights himself but he needed her to get up. They had to be leaving for school in thirty minutes, he’d already been up for an hour and a half preparing for the day.

Becca groaned at that threat, knowing he’d do just that if it meant she’d finally wake up. She threw her hands over her face and peaked through them, her blue eyes catching his.

Becca was Bucky’s twin with her brown hair and blue eyes, she got way more of his genes that she did her mother’s. A fact that made Dot angry every time any of Bucky’s family brought it up. When Dot walked out on them Becca was two. She hadn’t known her mother long enough to miss her, but Bucky knew that there was a mom shaped hole that he would never be able to fill completely, but he’d be damned if he didn’t try.

“But daddy I don’t wanna go to school,” Becca whispered from behind the safety of her hands, trying not to make eye contact with her dad.

“Why not, Bex? You were all excited about going to first grade last week, what changed your mind?” Bucky asked quietly, trying to find out where his daughters sudden fear of the first grade had come from.

“Because you’re not my teacher,” she whispered, looking down at her hands and avoiding Bucky’s face. His heart dropped. He knew that Becca had been hoping he would be her teacher, but since he was her father that wasn’t going to happen. Their school liked to avoid the “my parent is my teacher” stereotype and placed the kids with other teachers instead.

“I know, sweetheart. But you know who is your teacher?” He responded, smoothing her brown curls as she looked at him with those big blue eyes, shaking her head no. So Bucky whispered, “Uncle Stevie.”

Becca’s eyes grew three sizes and next thing Bucky knew she was throwing off her blanket and running to the closet, “UNCLE STEVIE IS MY TEACHER!?”

Bucky chuckled as he watched Becca’s curls fly around her head wildly as she tried to find “the best outfit for the best teacher EVER!”, though that last statement hurt Bucky just a little bit.

“Alright Bex, calm down. Now. Let me see what you plan on wearing,” he said, his hands on his hips. He didn’t care what Becca wore to school but sometimes she liked to play dress up just a little too much. Becca showed him her outfit and he nodded his head in approval.

“Alright kiddo, I’ve got breakfast ready. Let's go eat real fast then you can get changed, brush your teeth and we’ll be off to see Mr. Rogers.” At that, Becca zoomed past Bucky to the kitchen and he swore he’d never seen a kid eat faster, and he’d had plenty of lunch duties in his day.

As Bucky finished packing their lunches and fixing his togo coffee, he listened to Becca chatter on about how excited she was to be in Uncle Steve's class and how she was scared that she'd forget to call him Mr. Rogers and how many friends she was going to make, the last statement making Bucky chuckle as he shook his head. Becca didn't know a stranger. She made friends everywhere she went. Suffice to say, she got that skill from her mother. The difference? Dot made friends at the drop of a hat, but she was terrible at maintaining those friendships. Bucky was physically pulled out of his thoughts by his six year old tugging at his slacks, "okay daddy! I'm all ready!"

Focusing on Becca, Bucky had to hold back a laugh. While his daughter had managed to put on her clothes correctly, right side out and everything, her hair was a different story. The chestnut curls looked like they hadn't seen a brush in days, and knowing how busy he'd been setting up his classroom and getting ready for the school year, it probably had been that long. "Okay, Becca Bug. We need to fix this hair, now run and grab your brush so we can head out. Daddy can't be late for the first day of school," he said with his hands on his hips trying to put on as serious a face as possible, the action nearly impossible with a giggling six year old running from him. He couldn't help but think, "this is gonna be a long year."

By the time the pair made their way to the school Becca was practically buzzing with excitement. Gone was the shy and somewhat scared six year old he found laying in her bed this morning, Rebecca Dolores Barnes "but you can call me Becca please" had taken her place. The pair didn't make it as early as they normally would today but Bucky had the opportunity to walk Becca to her classroom before returning to his own to greet his students. 

Steve Rogers opened his classroom door as he heard the excited tone of Rebecca Barnes approaching. "UNCLE STEVE!! I'm in your class this year!" Becca shouted, practically flinging herself into his arms making Steve and Bucky laugh at her enthusiasm. The two offering a one-armed hug around Becca's small body. 

"Remember what I said this morning, Becca- bug," Bucky said somewhat sternly, making sure to look her in the eye. Where her sudden sass came from, Bucky had no clue, because next thing he knew his daughter was rolling her eyes and sighing, "I know daddy, he's Mr. Rogers when I'm in his class and at school."

Steve tried his best to suppress his laugh with a cough. Steve knew where she got her attitude from. It was a perfect (read: deadly) combination of Bucky, Dot and Becca's namesake her Auntie Bex, Bucky's sister. Not him though....she definitely wasn't influenced by her Uncle Steve...not one bit.

 Bucky cut his eyes at Steve, trying to get him to realize that he was serious about teaching Becca what she needed to know at school, when he recognized the slow flow of students entering the halls. The first day of first grade had started. Bucky turned to Becca and wrapped his daughter in a hug, "Alright, Becca. Be on your best behavior for Mr. Rogers, learn lots of things, make new friends, I'll see you at lunch. I love you to infinity and beyond, Becca-Bug."

"I love you to the moon and back a kajillion times, daddy!" Becca responded, squeezing her dad tight before kicking her feet to try and get down and enter her classroom. That was Bucky's cue. He gave Steve a final hug before heading to his classroom. As the kids approached, Bucky greeted them and the people dropping them off. Most of the kids were excited to see some of their friends from Kindergarten again, others were already in the process of making new friends. Bucky continued through the line of students and guardians, avoiding the occasional flirting by some of the moms thrown his way, when he reached the final student in line.

She was looking at her feet, suddenly preoccupied by the pink converse on her feet and trying to avoid his eye, her fingers finding interest in picking at the sequins on her pink unicorn shirt. A throat cleared from behind the young girl. Bucky saw black heels first, followed by a black pantsuit, a white blouse and finally a  slightly concerned face looking down at the young girl. You bent down to get to her level and whispered something in her ear, the girl looking up at Bucky quickly but promptly turning her face into your shirt. You looked up at him with an apologetic look on your face. Luckily, Bucky knew what to do.

He bent down slowly, and stretched out his hand, "Hi, I'm Mr. Barnes and welcome to the first grade. We've got a lot of fun things we're going to do this year." The little girl poked her head out under your arm, looking at Bucky's outstretched hand as if it might attack her any second. You took that moment to nudge her, nodding your head when she looked at you like she wanted to say something. 

The little girl took a deep breath, poking her chest out and thrusting her palm out to meet Bucky's, "My name is Avery Claire L/N, and I am six years old. It is very nice to meet you, thank you," she stated, stumbling over her words a little but when she was done she looked at you, almost for approval. You shook your head at your daughter's silliness. What Bucky didn't know is that Avery had been practicing for days how she wanted to introduce herself, she'd seen her mother do it a million times and she wanted to get it just right.

"Well, Avery, it is very nice to meet you, are you ready to go make some new friends and have a great year," Bucky asked, gesturing to the classroom door behind him where the other students were already talking and playing with each other. Avery poked her head around his legs to get a better look, obviously something sparked her interest cause the next thing you knew she was giving your legs a squeeze and yelling, "bye mommy! Love you!" as she ran into Bucky's classroom.

Bucky laughed at her enthusiasm, she reminded him of Becca. He turned to face you, extended his hand and said, "I look forward to teaching Avery this year, as I said I'm Mr. Barnes. It's nice to meet you, Mrs. L/N."

 The corner of your lip twitched upwards, almost like you wanted to smirk at his assumption that you were married, and you reached your hand out to give his a firm shake before stating, "It's Ms. L/N. Y/N L/N. And I look forward to hearing all about the joys of first grade, Mr. Barnes."Bucky swore his face lost all color. The blood drained out of his face so fast the second he heard her full name. He'd heard of Y/N L/N. Who the hell hadn't. She ran L/N Enterprises and was known as one of the most ruthless executives in New York. Your smirk turned into a smile full of teeth, a smile Bucky was sure you'd perfected in all sorts of business deals and meetings over the years. 

Or maybe it was one you reserved just for people when they found out who you were, your reputation obviously preceding you, Bucky couldn't help but think to himself. He opened his mouth to respond but you cut him off as your phone started to ring, "thank you for the introduction, Mr. Barnes. And thank you for your work this morning with Avery, she's a little shy and I'm not entirely certain where she got that from. I'm sure we'll see each other soon." You turned down the hall, heels tapping the linoleum flooring as you answered the phone with a harsh, "What?"

As Bucky watched you walk away he let out a sigh he didn't know he'd been holding in since you introduced yourself. "This really is gonna be a long year." 

~~~~~~~

I don’t have a taglist for this fic yet, but if you’d like to be added just let me know!

[eds6ngel]

when i kissed the teacher masterlist ༊*·˚

all parts and spinoffs to my series 'when i kissed the teacher.' ˚♡⋆

♡ sfw. ☾ nsfw.

series!

♡ part one.

♡ part two.

♡ part three.

♡ part four.

♡ part five.

spinoffs!

♡ steve and reader's first date.

♡ reader sleeps over at steve's for the first time.

♡ reader and steve go on a double date with robin and vickie.

☾ steve and reader's first time.

♡ steve and reader's first fight.

♡ alena calls reader 'mom' for the first time.

♡ steve thinks about marrying reader.

♡ steve proposes to reader.

♡ reader tells steve she is pregnant.

[eddiemunsons80sbaby]

Never Say Never

Chapter 2

Pairing: SingleDad!StevexReader

Summary: You are a 32 year old single mother, raising your seven year old son on your own. After being widowed at 30 and going out on awful dates with disgusting men for the past month, you have decided that you're giving up. You already had your great love. One person can't possibly get lucky enough to have two in their lifetime. But then your son starts playing baseball and the coach might just change your mind about that.

No posting schedule.

18+ only for eventual smut

Word Count: 7.3K

1

“It seems to be just a case of the common cold,” you told the worried mother. “Dr. Wilson said she just needs rest and to make sure she drinks lots of fluids. She should be back to herself within a few days.”

“Thanks. I know I’m probably being silly rushing her in here but she kept waking up last night, crying, and I’m all alone. I’ve just been exhausted having to do everything on my own. It’s been so hard. And with her not feeling well, neither of us have gotten much sleep the last few days. My husband’s in the Air Force and he’s currently deployed and we don’t know when he’s going to get to come back home and my parents live three hundred miles away.”

Deep breath in, deep breath out. Let the feeling come. Acknowledge the feeling and then move forward. You closed your eyes for a moment, centering yourself, not letting this one burrow too far in before you forced it back. Maybe you weren't supposed to push them away but sometimes it was necessary. Like now. You couldn’t be the nurse who assured the nervous mother if you were busy trying to find three things to look at, smell, and move. It wasn’t reassuring to have your medical professional falling apart in front of you.

Pressing your index finger to your thumb, you allowed yourself to feel the sensation, to know you were here. You weren't back there. No one was waiting on the other side of the door to give you the news that would send a wrecking ball through the middle of your life, destroying and altering it forever. You were strong. You were handling it. You were moving forward. Opening your eyes, you put on your best smile. 

“Of course. I can’t imagine how challenging that must be for you.” Actually, you could, but this was not the time or place to share your own story. This was the time to be an empathetic ear, to listen to your patient. It was not the time to unpack your own trauma or make this about yourself. “Please, no need to apologize. You call us whenever you need to. It’s always better to be safe than sorry.”

The mother thanked you, lifting her three year old into her arms. You directed her which way to go. Parents often got a bit turned around in this place, the hallways like a maze to the various exam rooms, like a figure eight. This practice was a thriving one, one that kept you very busy, your days packed with back-to-back appointments. But you preferred it that way. It made your days go faster. 

After you finished college with your Bachelor’s of Science in nursing, you had immediately gotten a job at the local hospital. You'd loved it. The hours were long and you were exhausted all the time but it had been fast-paced and so rewarding. However, it had also been heartbreaking as some children who came into the hospital were there to stay and would never again leave. They would never get tucked into their own bed again, never run through their own backyard again, never sit on the floor of their living room on a Saturday morning eating cereal while watching cartoons again. The job had not just been physically exhausting but mentally and emotionally exhausting as well. 

After you'd found out you were expecting Eli, Justin had suggested that maybe you needed something a bit more predictable. It would be hard for you to work twelve hour shifts with a baby at home. It would be even harder to watch children suffer, watch parents in the darkest moments of their lives, when you had a little one at home. You weren't sure how you could face that kind of heartbreak and then go home to your own child, hoping it never happened to you.

Still, you wouldn’t have given it up if it weren’t for Justin being in the military. With his job, he would often be gone for months at a time, leaving you alone. It hadn’t been a problem before but with your parents living across the country and his parents more than three hours away, you were limited when it came to help. So, you'd applied to the new local pediatrician's office, delighted when you got a call that same week, inviting you in for an interview. 

You'd been there ever since, watching as Dr. Wilson’s practice grew. He was young, just a bit older than you, and new to the job but his warm demeanor and empathetic ear quickly had every mom in town bringing their child to him. It probably didn’t hurt that he was pretty damn good looking too. 

“Hey Rita, I’m going to take my lunch if I don’t have any more patients for a bit,” you told your receptionist as you placed the child’s file into the cabinet. 

“That’s fine. Your next appointment isn’t for an hour so you’re good. I’ll have Sarah handle anything that pops up while you’re out.”

“Thanks.”

You grabbed your lunch bag from the fridge and made your way out of the office, heading for the pond. When it was nice out, you always chose to eat your lunch out here, a little escape from the fluorescent lights and germs of the office. Finding a bench, you sat down, pulling out your bologna sandwich. It wasn’t your usual choice but it had simply felt easier to make two this morning instead of trying to come up with something else for yourself. 

You pulled out your phone, dialing the number of the one person you'd been desperate to talk to after the events of yesterday. Janice was a photographer. She did great business and had multiple clients who came back to her again and again for family portraits, baby pictures, and senior photos. She worked from home, which also meant her hours were flexible and she was almost always available to take your calls. Sure enough, your best friend picked up after two rings. 

“Are you sitting under your tree?”

You laughed, “How did you know?”

“Because it’s your lunchtime and that’s what you always do when the sun is shining. Are the geese around?”

“Yep. The five little babies are swimming with mom and dad. They’re so cute. Little brown fluffballs that look so soft and sweet. I just want to cuddle them.”

“I wouldn’t try it. Geese can be nasty.”

“You don’t have to tell me. Remember when Eli was two and he wanted to feed them and those two geese hissed and opened their wings wide when he got too close. We didn’t know they had a nest right there. I know they were just protecting their babies but that scared the shit out of me.”

“Well, Eli’s your baby. Of course you were scared,” Janice laughed. “Oh my god. That poor kid. He won’t go anywhere near them now. It cemented itself into his brain and gave him a complex. He’ll probably hate those feathered fiends for the rest of his life. So, how was his first baseball practice? Did he love it? Matt can’t wait to talk to him about it.”

“He did. He talked my ear off the whole way home. His best friend is on his team and his coach is the kid’s dad. He loves him and said he was so nice and fun. He’s really patient with the kids. When Eli missed the ball for the third time, he was so upset with himself. The coach was so sweet, giving him some pointers, and assuring him he could do it.”

“Oh…okay, hold on. Wait a minute. Why do you sound like that when you’re talking about his coach?”

“Like what?” you demanded. 

“Like you did in high school when you used to talk about Josh.”

“What? No I don’t.”

“Yeah you do! You’re all gushy. You sound like a Disney princess about to break into song among the forest animals who are going to help you clean your home about the guy you just met in the woods.”

You snorted, “Oh please. No I don’t. I’m just glad that his coach is so kind since Eli is new at this.”

“Uh-huh…so, this coach isn’t cute?”

“I mean, yeah, he is…objectively speaking, most women would say he was very attractive.”

“Most women, huh? And what about you?”

“Yes, okay? Yes, I think he’s very attractive. Anyone with eyes would see that he is good-looking. You should have heard the moms at practice going on about his ass. Married moms basically saying they would cheat on their husbands for this guy. I swear, the housewives club is scary. But it’s just…he’s just Eli’s coach. His son is coming over to our house later today to play with Eli.”

Steve was attractive. Hell, he was possibly the most attractive man you'd ever laid eyes on and that made the guilt just twist in your stomach even harder. Justin had been the love of your life. How could you be so turned around by some guy you barely even knew? You'd spoken for all of three minutes. You didn’t know anything about him besides the fact that he coached kids baseball. 

“Oh, is he now?”

“Janice, stop. Eli and Jeremiah have become best friends this year and Eli asked forever ago if he could come over and I completely forgot about it and it never happened. He asked again yesterday so I promised him I would set it up. That’s all it is.”

“And is his dad coming over to play too?”

You groaned, your hand coming to y our forehead, “Do you have to say it like that? And no he’s not. He has a work meeting. So, I’m kind of helping him out, I guess, but not really because I was going to invite the kid over anyway.”

“So, he’s just dropping him off and picking him up?”

“Well, he may have offered to grab a pizza on his way back to thank me for watching his kid. Which is completely unnecessary because I asked for him to come over before he ever told me about his meeting. I wouldn’t even have known I was babysitting for him if he wouldn’t have told me about it. I never would have expected him to hang around while our kids hung out.”

“Hmm, so you’re going to be having dinner with him, then?”

“And our kids,” you reminded her. 

Janice had this all wrong. Of course she did. He was just being friendly. Your kids were friends and they wanted to spend time together. He’d said it himself, you were helping him out of a bind with childcare issues. That was all. He was just being nice and buying everybody dinner. Your sons were going to be there. It wasn’t like it was a date. 

“Still. You know, I said maybe you could find a hot, single dad at practice and look at you, finding one on the first go! He is single, right?”

“I think so. He said his best friend was busy and he had no one else to watch Jeremiah. That would make me think the mom isn’t in the picture but I honestly have no idea. We barely talked because he had to start the practice.”

“Well, you should have plenty of time to talk tonight and get clarification on his status.”

“I don’t need clarification on his status. I told you, I’m done with all of that. I had Justin. There is no way I will ever find anything that can begin to compare with what we had.”

“You definitely won’t if you just throw in the towel. Come on, Aly. Would it really be so bad to just talk to him a bit? I’m not saying you have to jump his bones tonight. I mean, probably wouldn’t hurt. You haven’t been laid in two years, my friend. Your vagina could use some airing out. Clear all the cobwebs that have settled, you know?”

“Jesus, you are so foul,” you sighed, catching sight of a young family heading into the office. The dad had a little boy on his shoulders. He said something to the mom and she grinned, leaning up onto her toes to kiss him. The sight sent familiar pangs of the loss of what could have been, what should have been, through you. 

“Maybe but you know I’m right. Anyway, if you’re going to be such a prude, then just talk to him. Be his friend. If your kids like each other that much, chances are this won’t be the only time you’re around each other. And then who knows?”

“Yeah…who knows…” you sighed, thinking you did know. The universe was never going to let you get that lucky twice. Something had to be wrong with this guy.

___________________________________________________________

You folded the towel from the dryer as you watched Jeremiah and Eli race around the backyard, dressed up in Eli’s superhero costumes. Your son had an entire bin of them. He was obsessed. Comic books and action figures covered the shelves in his bedroom. Eli had always loved superheroes but Matt, who was a self-proclaimed, very proud nerd, had gotten him into comics. Most of the items Eli now had came from Matt himself, stuff he’d kept since he was a kid.

You'd survived the drop-off, being cordial and friendly without giving off any signals that you were interested in anything more. At least, you thought you were. It was hard to concentrate when that man looked so damn good, standing there in gray slacks and a yellow sweater. When his cologne hit your olfactory nerves, a woodsy scent of sandalwood and pine, you had gripped the door frame, fighting back the swoon that was quickly coming on. But no, you were sure you kept things professional, just two parents in the midst of an exchange for a playdate. 

Besides, you weren't even sure you were interested in anything more. You didn’t even know how to do more at this point. It had been so long since you'd spent real time with any man that wasn’t Justin or Matt. And even if Janice kept pushing you to move on, even if it had been two years, you weren't sure you were ready. 

And you weren't sure if Eli would be ready. His therapist said he was doing well. He had adjusted as best as you could expect a child who’d lost his father to adjust. But did that mean he was ready to see his mom with a new guy? Was it fair to bring someone new into his life that could just disappear? What if you started something with someone and it ended badly and he lost another male figure and his best friend at the same time? Would he be so well adjusted then? He had settled into their routine, him and you against the world. You weren't sure you could change that on him. 

He’d only been five when it happened but you had made sure that he’d never forgotten his daddy. A picture of him and Justin sat on his nightstand by his bed. It was one of your favorites, taken at the pumpkin farm when Eli was four. He held a giant pumpkin, looking so proud, when really Justin was holding the bottom of it for him, both of them beaming their matching smiles. 

The two of you talked about him often, you sharing stories with him of you and Justin and him and Justin. Reminded him how much his daddy had loved him. You couldn’t allow him to forget. You couldn’t do that to Justin whose smile could have lit up the entire planet the first time he laid eyes on his son. 

“Mommy! We’re hungry!” Eli yelled as he and Jeremiah came racing in the back door. 

You glanced over at the clock, “Well, Jeremiah’s dad is bringing pizza and he should be here any minute. Do you think Superman and Batman can wait just a few minutes to eat?”

Eli groaned, dramatically tumbling down to the floor, “But fighting crime and saving the world is hard work. It makes us so hungry, mommy.”

“Okay…how about you two have some strawberries?” you offered, thinking it wouldn’t be too filling and it would get something good in their system before they loaded up on carbs and cheese. 

“Strawberries!” Jeremiah’s eyes lit up. “They’re my favorite fruit. Daddy takes me strawberry picking every single year and we get a ton. My daddy makes strawberry jam and it’s so good on my toast.” His eyes went wide, shooting over to Eli. “Hey! I’ll ask my dad if you guys can come this year! It’s super fun. They have goats, cows, chickens, and ponies that you can ride!”

“Can we mommy?” Eli asked, turning those sweet blue eyes up at you. 

“I…uh…I mean, strawberry picking around here isn’t for another month or so. But, maybe, I guess? I mean, if Eli’s daddy wants to take you too, that would be fine.”

“You can come too!” Jeremiah told you. “They have other stuff there like fancy soaps and stuff that they make. My mommy used to like those.”

“Oh, well, maybe…” you muttered as you busied yourself with getting out the strawberries. You ran them under water before working at slicing them onto a plate for the boys to share. 

His mommy used to like those? So, she’d been around during his life, obviously. Enough for him to remember going strawberry picking with them. Unless, like Eli, he was repeating stories his dad had shared with him.  Where was she now? Had she left? Had she died? You couldn’t very well ask a little boy. What if she had passed? You couldn’t bring up that pain for him. 

“Did we ever go strawberry picking with daddy?” asked Eli as the boys sat down at the table, the plate of strawberries between them.

You swallowed, “No. We didn’t go strawberry picking but we used to go to the apple orchard every fall and daddy would put you up on his shoulders so you could get the apples. And we always went to the pumpkin farm too.”

“We still do that!”

“Yes we do,” you smiled as you washed your hands. You worked so hard to keep the traditions that you and Justin started alive. It was another way for you to remind your son how incredible the five short years he had with his dad was. You looked up when there was a knock at the door, drying your hands on a kitchen towel. “I bet that’s Jeremiah’s daddy with the pizza.”

Smoothing your hands over your hair, you inhaled deeply, reminding yourself that this was just two parents whose kids had become best friends getting to know each other. No pressure. No reason to be nervous. You were simply trying to be good parents. 

Grabbing onto the door, you swung it open, only to feel like the entire world had turned upside down at the sight of Steve. There he stood in those slacks and that yellow sweater that looked so damn good on him. Not many people could pull off yellow but boy, he could. His right arm was raised, two pizza boxes balancing on his hand and a smile that could have outshone the sun on his face. 

“Pizza, as promised,” he announced. 

Gathering yourself, you returned his smile, “The boys will be very relieved. Superman and Batman have been battling the forces of evil all afternoon and they are wasting away to nothing.”

Steve’s cheeks hollowed out as he released a long, audible breath, “Can’t have that. How will they ever keep the city safe if we don’t recharge them with greasy pizza? But seriously, I hope he was good for you.”

“He was great,” you assured him. “Seriously.”

“Good. Thanks again. You were a real lifesaver.”

“No problem. I…”

“Daddy! Where’s the pizza!?” came Jeremiah’s whine from the kitchen, loud and impatient. 

“Sorry. It’s right here.” Steve grinned, tossing you a wink that had you dazed, before making his way into the kitchen, plopping the boxes down in the middle of the table. “We can’t have Superman and Batman losing their strength. Have to keep them fed so they can keep the city safe. Are we currently in Gotham or Metropolis?”

“Daddy,” Jeremiah sighed, looking exasperated with his father. “Everyone knows both of those places are based on New York City. Then we can be there together.”

“Oh, sorry,” snorted Steve, sharing an amused look with you. “I am not as well versed in superhero lore as you.”

“I know. Uncle Dusty knows way more than you.”

“Of course he does because Uncle Dusty is so much cooler than your boring, old dad.” Steve rolled his eyes, pulling out the chair next to Jeremiah and having a seat. 

“You have a brother?” you asked as you stretched your arm up to retrieve the plastic paper plate holders from the top shelf. Turning, your breath caught in your throat. Steve’s eyes were watching you, focused on your midsection, right where your sweater had ridden up when you'd reached for the plates. He quickly looked down at his son as you cleared your throat and set the holders and plates on the table. 

“Uhh…no. I mean, not really,” he laughed. “Dustin isn’t actually my brother. I used to babysit him actually. I helped him out one day. There were some older kids picking on him and his friends at the park and I stepped in. Anyway, he went home and told his mom about this cool teenager and she tracked me down and asked if I’d be interested in babysitting. I think she really just wanted him to have a guy in his life. His dad died when he was young and he was an only child. Anyway, he was ten and I was sixteen and he just latched on like a leech and stuck. So…” He balanced his elbows on the table, hands facing up. “I guess he’s mine now. Him and Jere, here, are really close. Jere is into all the nerdy stuff that Dustin likes so Dustin is like his hero.”

“Uncle Dusty is amazing! He taught me how to make a homemade rocket,” Jeremiah told you, his smile so like his dad’s. 

But his eyes were different, a beautiful blue like the color of the ocean on a sunny day. And his nose was rounded, a cute little button, the complete opposite of Steve’s which was longer and pointed, almost Romanesque. He must have gotten those features from his mom, which left you wondering where she was again. 

“Yeah, and you almost burned the garage down. That thing singed the walls. I had to pull out the fire extinguisher,” Steve reminded his son, grabbing plates and placing them into the holders. 

Eli’s eyes went wide, “You almost started a fire?”

“Only a little one but you should have seen the rocket. It zoomed around the garage and then flew out and went bang! It was so cool.”

“Yeah, real cool,” Steve rolled his eyes. 

“Daddy, did you get just cheese?” asked Jeremiah as Steve moved to open one of the boxes.

“Of course, kid. Do you think I’m new here?” He reached over, ruffling his son’s hair, causing Jeremiah to giggle and that familiar pain, the pain that reminded you of everything your son was missing out on, tightened around you once again. Steve looked up at you. “I got one cheese and one pepperoni. I figured those were safe bets since I don’t know what either of you like. Hope that’s okay?”

“I love cheese too!” Eli told him eagerly, grinning over at Steve. “And mommy usually gets bacon and pineapple for herself but she likes all pizza. Pizza is our favorite food. We have it every Friday and watch a movie.”

“Pineapple on pizza?” Steve questioned skeptically, that beautiful nose crinkling. 

“Hey, don’t knock it until you try it,” you teased with a laugh, pouring milk for the kids. “My husb…” You paused, swallowing hard before taking the seat between Steve and Eli. But why shouldn’t you talk about Justin? Steve had to know Eli didn’t arrive by immaculate conception. “My husband thought I was crazy too. He was more of a pepperoni and green onions kind of guy. But my roommate in college is the one who got me into it. She ordered it one night and I was skeptical too but the combination of sweet and savory is delicious.”

“I think I’ll just have to take your word on that one,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “Fruit on pizza.” He looked over at the boys, one of those long, thick fingers swirling around by his ear. “Can you believe that? She’s nuts.”

Eli giggled as Steve plopped a piece of cheese on his plate, “My mommy can be crazy. Sometimes we do backward dinner.”

Steve’s lips pursed, head tilted, “Backward dinner? What’s that?”

“It’s where we have dessert first. So, we’ll have hot fudge sundaes and then we’ll have chicken nuggets and vegetables. It’s my favorite kind of dinner because I don’t have to eat all my vegetables before I get my dessert.”

“Oh, that does sound like a good deal because dessert is the best part of the meal,” Steve agreed with a nod. 

“I mean, it’s only done sometimes as a special treat.” You didn’t know why you felt the need to justify yourself but you did. “I do make sure he eats healthy.”

Steve laughed, “I’m sure you do. Sometimes Jere Bear and I like to have ice cream for dinner, don’t we?”

“Yeah! My daddy used to work at Scoops Ahoy and they have the best ice cream! I always get a banana split and daddy gets the U.S.S. Butterscotch.”

“Mmm, the U.S.S. Butterscotch is my favorite,” you grinned. “Eli always gets the hot fudge sundae.”

“With extra fudge!” he added. 

“Obviously,” Steve scoffed. “You can never have too much fudge.”

“So, how long ago was this when you worked at Scoops Ahoy?” you asked, picturing him in their little sailor outfit. You couldn’t deny that it gave you a little thrill of pleasure.

“Oh god, it’s been years now. I worked there right out of high school. I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life and when I couldn’t even get into community college, my father forced me to get a job. Said I needed to know what it was like to earn a working man’s wage.” He snorted harshly, leaving you with the impression that his relationship with his father wasn’t a particularly good one. “Anyway, I worked there for a couple years. That’s actually how I met my best friend, Robin.”

“And I assume you did figure out what you wanted to do with your life since you had a work meeting tonight?”

Steve took a large bite of his pizza, the slice folded up in his hand, “I’m a project manager for a construction company.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard of that job. What exactly do you do?”

“I oversee the building process, make sure everything is completed on time and within budget. I work with the architects and the engineers to develop plans, establish timelines for different phases to be complete, and calculate what labor and materials are going to cost. That’s what my meeting was about tonight actually. We just got a contract for a new subdivision they’re putting in off of Cherry. It’s a big job. We’re thinking it’s going to take about two years.”

“Wow, that’s a long time.”

“Not really when you consider we’re building around sixty new houses. It’s a good thing really, means my team will have plenty of work to do for a while. Steady income, you know? Nothing’s worse than having to lay someone off, knowing you’re possibly making their life impossible.”

“What’s laying off?” asked Eli. 

“Well, when we don’t have enough work to do, then we don’t have the money to pay people. So, I have to tell them that we’re letting them go for a while. It’s not really getting fired because you hope you can call them back when there’s more work. They can apply to get money from the government but it’s not nearly as much as they make when they’re working. That can make it hard for them to feed their families and pay their bills.”

“That seems mean,” Eli commented. “Why do you do it?”

“I don’t want to do it. But when the money’s not there, we have no way to pay them. It happens a lot in the wintertime because there’s not as much building when the weather’s bad. That’s why this job is such a good thing because it will be steady work for the next two winters. I won’t have to worry and neither will my guys.”

“Well, that’s good. Did you have to go to school for that or like a trade school?” you inquired. 

“No college. I don’t think I was ever made for college. I struggled through high school. Of course, that could have been because I was interested in everything else but high school. That’s why I’m so glad my kiddo here got his mom’s brains. She was an overachiever, still is. I actually started just like my guys, doing the construction part. I got interested in how the job runs and wound up getting my certification. And about four years ago, they promoted me to project manager.”

So Mom definitely wasn’t gone but then why did he need a babysitter? Maybe she was busy too? Or maybe she lived out of town and they shared custody? And this was none of your business. Why were you so interested in what the situation was with mom? 

“Wow, that’s amazing. You must have really impressed them then. Going to college isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, anyway. I’ve told Eli, it all depends on what you want to do with your life. Some jobs don’t require college and they’re just as important. I mean, you build homes. You provide a space for families to start their lives and make memories. I think that’s pretty important work.”

A flush rose up along his neck, bright red against the yellow of his sweater. A small smile curved his lips as he tapped the table before looking up at you. The boys had long given up on your conversation, deeply entrenched in one of their own about the latest episode of X-men: Evolution. 

“I mean, you work in a pediatrician’s office, right? You help sick kids. I think that might be just a bit more important than what I do. But thanks. What do you do in the office, anyway? Are you the doctor?”

You laughed, “No. That was far more schooling than I was interested in doing. I’m a nurse but honestly, we know just as much as they do. Experience is way more educational than sitting in some class, listening to someone talk about stuff. Sometimes, I think we might know more than the doctors do. But Dr. Wilson is great to work with. He’s not one of those guys that talks down to his nurses or acts like he’s superior because he’s got that M.D. after his name. I worked with plenty of misogynist ego-driven jerks when I worked at the hospital. They act like they’re royalty or something. Dr. Wilson actually trusts us and values our input. He makes us feel like a part of a team instead of a dictatorship.”

The conversation flowed easily, the boys jumping in here and there, all four of you laughing and smiling as you enjoyed your pizza. You could not deny the feeling of rightness in this moment, this moment that was everything you had ever wanted for your son. It was a picture perfect moment in time, this little dinner at your kitchen table full of warmth and laughter. 

And no, you weren't insane. It wasn’t that you were looking at this as a family or that you were jumping ten steps ahead of just this pleasant evening. It was just nice to have a full table, to have it not be just you and Eli, to watch your son enjoying himself. He loved when Matt and Janice came for dinner but this was different. He had his best friend with him, the two boys sending each other into hysterics every thirty seconds.

For just this moment, this little slice of time, the weight had been lifted from your shoulders. The constant guilt that you weren't enough, that you could never be enough for your son. You could never be all of the things that he needed you to be. For just this moment, you thought maybe you didn’t have to be if you could surround him with people who provided everything he needed. 

“Alright, kiddo, we should probably get heading home so you can take a shower before bed,” Steve announced around seven thirty, pushing back from the table and standing up. He gathered the paper plates, tossing them in the trash. “Did you want help cleaning up before we head out?”

You waved your hand dismissively, “Oh no. That’s not necessary. Just a quick wipe down of the holders and popping the cups in the dishwasher. It will only take a couple minutes.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, seriously. No big deal. Besides, you bought the dinner so the least I can do is the clean up.”

“Yes, but I brought the dinner to thank you for watching my kid.”

 “Please. I offered to take him and having Jeremiah here saved me from having to wear the Superman cape and run around with Eli all evening. It was nice to just be an average human instead of a superhero tonight.”

“You’re a nurse,” Steve said with a soft smile, leaning into you, causing your heart to skip a beat. “Pretty sure you’re a superhero all the time.”

“Daddy, can Eli come to our house this weekend? Please? He really wants to meet Miles.”

“Miles?” you asked.

“It’s his dog!” Eli told you excitedly. “He wears capes too! Jeremiah said he can be my sidekick, Robin.”

"Which is silly because that's my Aunt Robin's name," Jeremiah added, "but the cape doesn't fit her so good so she's usually Catwoman because it's a mask and a tail."

Steve laughed, “Sure kid. He can come over. If it’s okay with his mom.”

“Fine with me,” you shrugged. Seeing the joy on your son’s face to get to spend time with his friend was all the reason you needed to readily agree. It definitely did not have to do with having the chance to see his dad again. No. That didn’t factor in at all.

“Okay, well, how about this?” Steve knelt down to his son’s level. “We’ve got baseball practice on Saturday until two. Why don’t we all go get ice cream afterward and then Jeremiah and his mom can come meet Miles afterward?”

“All of us?” you questioned, wondering if you'd heard him correctly.

He rose, head tilting forward, those eyes as warm as a chocolate chip cookie coming right out of the oven, and just as delicious. “Why not? I mean, if you have something else to do…”

“No. No, I don’t. I mean, that would be nice. We haven’t gotten ice cream yet since they opened. And I love dogs. Who doesn’t love dogs? Crazy people, right? So obviously meeting your dog would be fun. I just…I mean…yeah, okay.”

He appeared amused with you once again and you wished you could just pull the foot out of your mouth. It appeared to be permanently wedged there whenever he was around. 

“Good. Maybe we can even have a sleepover.” Your breath caught as his mouth dropped open, eyes going wide, one of those hands running nervously through his hair, sweeping it to the side. “I mean the boys. The boys could have a sleepover. At my house. If you’re okay with that?”

Had he meant what you thought he meant? Had that just been an innocent mistake or was he as attracted to you as you were to him? Trying to let your son hang out with his friend was proving to be far more complicated than you thought it would be when you'd approached him on the baseball field. 

“Yeah.” You weren't sure why. You hadn’t even let Eli stay the night anywhere before but there was just something about Steve that you trusted. “Eli would love that, honestly.”

“You’re gonna sleep at my house!” Jeremiah yelled, grabbing Eli’s hands, the two boys jumping around the kitchen. 

“Obviously, they’re both okay with it,” Steve chuckled, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his trousers. “So, we’ll see you Saturday at practice?”

“Yeah. Saturday.”

You said your goodbyes, the boys both still screeching, talking about how it was only two more sleeps until their sleepover. Steve gave you one last smile and a little finger wave before turning and taking his son’s hand, leading him to his Ford Explorer that was parked just behind your Prius. 

“Mommy, are you and Jeremiah’s dad friends now too?”

“Kind of, I guess,” you shrugged.

“Cool because if you’re friends and want to play with each other all the time then me and Eli can play with each other all the time too!”

You gripped the door, closing it slowly behind you. Your son had no idea the implications of what he’d just said but you definitely did. Your entire body was vibrating with the implications of what he’d just said.

___________________________________________________________

“Daddy, when Eli spends the night can we make a fort like the one we made that one time where it was the whole living room? Remember? And we put up the Christmas lights inside and we put in our sleeping bags and pillows.”

Steve blinked, glancing up at his son in the rearview mirror. He’d completely missed everything that his kid had just said. The boy had been rambling from the moment they’d gotten in the car and he was having trouble focusing, his thoughts completely focused on the last hour of his day. 

You had been consuming all of his brain space since you'd approached him yesterday on the baseball field. Yeah, you were gorgeous. He’d noticed that instantly. Who wouldn’t? But there was something else about you, something that wouldn’t let his brain rest, something that kept poking at him, telling him to do something about these feelings you were stirring up inside him. 

And it had been so long since he’d had anything stirring inside of him. After him and Nancy had split four years ago, Steve had jumped right into another relationship. He struggled with being alone. According to Robin, it was his dysfunctional childhood. The little boy inside of him who never got the love he needed from his parents, constantly seeking it out in someone else. 

According to Robin, that was why he’d married Nancy even though the two of them had been all wrong for each other. He clung to the first solid thing that had come along and refused to see any of the millions of little signs that it wasn’t working. Of course, that was according to Robin, his best friend who thought she knew more about the internal workings of his mind than he did.

He’d dated Stacy for a year, convinced himself that she was the one, told Robin he was thinking of proposing and his obnoxious friend had slapped him upside the head. To be fair, he probably needed a good jarring, something to knock some sense into him. Marrying Stacy would have led to him being twice divorced. She had been even worse for him than Nancy. 

Not that there was anything wrong with Nance. No, she was amazing. She was smart, beautiful, kind, and an absolutely wonderful mother. Neither of them had ever cheated or hurt the other. They simply just weren’t a good fit. It seemed so obvious now when he could see how well her and Jonathan slid together, like two puzzle pieces locking into place perfectly. 

He’d dated a few other women after Stacy, most recently Janet, a single mother that he met at the park last summer. They’d made it about four months before he saw it was going nowhere. She was clingy, pushing for them to move in together, and it was in that moment that he realized he could not see a future with her. The idea of waking up next to her every day was exhausting. He’d ended it and she had not taken it well, calling him every name in the book, very loudly, in the middle of the restaurant he’d taken her to to try to soften the blow.

Steve didn’t lack for options. It felt like the moms of this town were throwing themselves at him constantly, some of them not even single. But none of them fit. None of them made him feel that thing, that thing that Robin said was like the Big Bang, everything exploding and then rearranging into this perfect arrangement. She kept telling him it was called falling in love, not forcing in love. He needed to stop trying to make it happen and just let it come to him. Yeah, well, that was easy for her to see, the girl who’d found the right person in high school.

Was that what he was doing right now? Was he just trying to force something to be what he wanted? Your kids were friends. You'd approached him because you wanted to set up a time for your sons to be able to play. It could be that simple. You might not even be interested in him or in anything. 

He knew your husband had died. Jere had told him that Eli’s dad was in heaven. But he didn’t know how and he didn’t know how long ago. Maybe you were still freshly grieving. You'd definitely struggled when you were talking about him tonight. If you were still in the midst of your grief, the last thing you needed was some guy trying to push you to go out with him sometime. 

No, he probably needed to just take a step back. Cool it off. Yeah, you were beautiful and you seemed far more real than most of the women in this town who were interested in him. But if he tried to force something that wasn’t there, he wouldn’t be the only one to suffer. Jere would too because he would inevitably lose his best friend when things went south. He couldn’t do that to him. 

“Daddy, are you even listening to me?” Jeremiah huffed from the backseat, breaking through Steve’s thoughts. 

“I’m sorry buddy. What did you say?”

“I said can we make a big fort when Eli comes with the lights and our sleeping bags and stuff?”

“Oh yeah. Of course, bud. We can definitely do that. You want to make some s’mores too?”

“Yeah! And can we have popcorn and watch the new Scooby Doo movie too?”

“Absolutely!” Steve replied, grinning in the mirror. “And I can grill some hamburgers and hot dogs. We’ll make it the best sleepover ever, kid.”

His son’s smile stretched from ear to ear, reminding Steve why he very much needed to focus on his son’s happiness instead of his loneliness. No, he didn’t need to jump into another relationship with some woman he’d just met. He was just seeing things he wanted to see, trying to rearrange the pieces into the image he was so desperate for.

“Is Eli's mommy gonna sleepover too? Our fort will be big enough.”

“Uh, no buddy,” Steve answered. “She’s gonna come over and see Miles but she’s not staying.”

“Why not? Don’t you want a friend, daddy?”

Yeah, he did. More than his son could possibly know.

Chapter 3

Taglist: @katethetank

If you wanted to be added to the taglist, just let me know. 😊

[retrodreamgirl]

the games that play us | steve harrington x fem!reader

part 1 | part 2

summary: you're a kindergarten teacher at Hawkins Elementary and coincidentally steve harrington's little girl is a student in your class. there's a storm brewing, you meet wren's dad a second time, and wren and steve are having a hard day. we've got pumpkins and Steve Sheet™️ and french fries and tomatoes. plus! uncle eddie has a new friend and wren has some questions [wc: 10k]

warnings: fem!reader, teacher!reader, fluff, hurt/comfort, light angst, slowburn, strangers to friends to lovers, single parent!steve, mentions of teen parent!steve, steve being the biggest girl dad, uncle eddie (he's so stinkin cute!), mentions of shitty parents (steve's), probably not proofed very well. lmk if i missed anything!

⤜♡→

“Ms. Y/l/n, guess what!” Wren lifts to her toes, hands fastened against the opening of her denim jacket. She’s been especially well behaved today, not that she ever puts a single toe beyond the line of acceptable, but you’ve been waiting for her bright smile to find you with an explanation since she skipped in this morning. Now that she has, you free your hands of chalky erasers and lean a tad so your hands brush the knees of your skirt and your eyes are level.

“What’s up, Wren?” 

“My daddy’s coming to pick me up today!” 

“Oh he is!? Is that what’s got you so excited?” She nods, her endless pigtails swaying in kind. You wonder if her dad is the one who fashioned them with the bright pink ribbons and the butterfly clips flattening her flyaways on either side. “Do you guys have fun plans after school today?” 

After your formal introduction to Eddie, you brought him up in passing to one of the other teachers, Ms. Winters. She mentioned seeing the girl with him after school most days, along with an off comment about his commitment being a nice surprise. It was an odd take to you, the way Wren describes the affection she holds for her father and vice versa making it near impossible to believe he would be anything short of committed. 

“Mmm, no. Today we have to go straight home so I can do my homework and clean my room.” 

“A messy room huh?”

“I always keep it so clean, I promise!” She says it like the entirety of your relationship is dependent on the amount of clutter covering her bedroom floor. She wrings her hands, thinking a moment before explaining exactly why her room is messy, making sure you don’t think it’s entirely her fault. “I just made a bit of a mess picking my outfit last night and daddy was too tired to help me hang my clothes back so he said he’ll help me do it today.” 

“Alright, well why don’t you finish cleaning up your toys so you’re all ready when your daddy gets here.” 

She hops off, hands delicately swaying like the wind is carrying them alongside her, and you continue with the process of your own wind down. 

Despite Wren’s good behavior the rest of the class did not act accordingly. 

You’re positive it’s something in the water, a total of five students passing through timeout at various periods of the day. You’re not positive you’ll make it beyond the barrier of the school before you have to pull over and rest your head atop the steering wheel for a well deserved sob from pure exhaustion. 

Over the next thirty minutes, you send students off with bus monitors and exchange pleasantries with those whose parents are always lingering in the hall, waiting for the slow crawl of their little one collecting their bags from their cubbies and saying last goodbyes to friends for the day. Each student’s pass to the door is a weight from your chest, not to say you don’t love their bright smiles and lively personalities, but you’re still growing used to the charge of a class of twenty children barely pushing six years old.

All the while, Wren sits at her desk, the one near the window overlooking the parking lot. You don’t miss the subtle shift in her demeanor, the way her shoulders seem to slowly dip and her head eventually lay against her arms along the table. 

You’re fidgeting at your own desk, slowly sifting through the portraits you assigned for the day and dotting them all with an assortment of smiley face stickers. You hate to see the way her pupils widen a fraction every so often when a shadow shapes along the hall, then the way they deflate when she realizes it’s not her dad but another teacher leaving for the afternoon. The line is drawn completely when you see the way her lip wobbles at forty minutes past three.

“Hey, Wren, do you wanna have a snack with me?” Her eyes are glistening when she looks over at you, the sleeve of her jacket wiping at the wetness beginning to accumulate against her cheeks. “I have some yummy graham crackers with yogurt and I think I have an apple juice with your name on it!”

“Okay.” She says sighing, the breath catching in her throat with the words. You round your desk, the sharp clicks of your heels seeming too loud in the empty classroom. You’ve never noticed the loneliness of the whole thing, not until the happiest kid you know is crawling from her chair with an unusual cloud over her head. You offer your hand, and she rubs hers against her sleeve before accepting it.

“We just gotta make a quick trip to the teacher’s lounge so we’ll be back in time for your daddy.” 

“He’s late.” You slow your pace when Wren trails behind, her feet dragging against the tile when you step past the threshold of the door. Her neck is craning toward the entrance, posters painting happy faces seeming to morph into a mocking scene when the glass pane is empty of anything but the late afternoon sun blazing against bare asphalt. 

“I’m sure he’s trying to get here as fast as he can.” 

You hate to see it, the incorrigible way her lips flatten at the edges. Like she doesn’t think he’s showing up at all. It begs the question of routine or a deep seeded fear. 

You lead her to the lounge, her tiny feet pattering quickly behind you despite your decrease in tempo. It’s a pathetic little room really, with a round table and a fridge. Wren lingers by the door, eyes wide like it’s the holy grail. You pull your tub of yogurt and a juice box from the corner of the fridge and turn back to her with a kind smile. “Jackpot!” 

“Jackpot! Can I hold something, please?” 

“You take the juicebox, it’s so heavy I might fall over!” You sway on your feet, emphasis enough to have Wren giggling and her hands gently prying the small thing from you. “Thank you, sweetheart. Ready to head back?” 

She looks at you a moment, poking at her chin. “What about the crackers?” 

“Follow me.”

Her spirits have lifted a small amount by the time you’re back to the classroom, still empty save for her bright backpack slung over the back of her chair. You walk to your desk, plopping the tub of yogurt down and waving her over. She tentatively approaches you, this side of the wooden surface not often breached by anyone other than yourself. 

You crouch to the lowermost drawer, sliding it open to reveal an assortment of goodies, some that you use sparingly when the class is being in especially good spirits and some for yourself to snack on throughout the day.

“Whoa.” Wren peeks into the stash then back to you, “That’s a lot of stuff.” 

“Yeah, don’t tell anyone. It’s our little secret, okay?” You pass her the graham crackers and notice the chipping purple polish on her nails. “Does your daddy paint your nails?”

“No, my Aunt Max does it. But sometimes I pick at them and I haven’t been able to see her um…because of school.” Wren explains, scraping her nail along the edge of her thumb where a dusting of purple has scattered against it. “Next time I wanna do it like pumpkins for Halloween!”

“Oh I think that would be very cool! Let’s sit at your table and we can eat a little.” She nods and hobbles back to her chair with her juice box clutched in her fist. “Do you like your graham crackers with yogurt? It’s my favorite.” 

“I’ve never had it before. My after school snack is usually half a peanut butter and jelly with some grapes and five m&ms. I get five so I can put them in the bread and make a face, but they always fall out so I just get chocolate before dinner.” You have a feeling her plan is not as sneaky as she thinks, but the mischievous glint in her eye fills you with a warmth too wholesome to burst her bubble.

You free a cracker from the brown sleeve and dip it into the tub of yogurt to carefully hand over to Wren who watches the entire process arched over the desk with rapt attention. “Tell me what you think.” 

She takes a large bite, a corner of the cracker breaking off and falling to the desk leaving a glob of yogurt clinging to her cheek. She scrunches her nose and swallows, her hand grabbing at the piece that now rests atop the table. 

“May I please have a napkin?” 

“Yeah,” You chuckle, quick to hop up and grab the spare roll from your desk. 

“It’s really good!” She says through another mouthful, allowing you to dab at the corner of her cheek. She whines a bit when you spend too long rubbing at the skin but quickly catches herself and smiles sheepish. You continue like this for a while, Wren too occupied cautiously dipping each cracker and sliding it past her lips. 

Your eyes travel the expanse of the window, trying to spot any unfamiliar vehicles pulling in. There’s nothing but the sky darkening to an angry gray color, clouds settling for an evening storm. You think you should attempt to call her house, but you’re sure there won’t be an answer.

You must’ve missed something she said, because next thing Wren’s arm is tugging at the edge of your sleeve and her eyes are wide and fearful where she follows your previous path to the window. 

“I want my daddy.” Nothing if not a daddy’s girl, your heart breaks at the sight of her tears welling up again, certainly no hope of anyone but him soothing her broken soul. The matter is furthered when a loud crack of thunder rumbles and the first spit of water sprinkles against the glass. “Daddy!” 

She wails then and you're rounding the short distance from the table to kneel at her side, accepting her with open arms when she throws herself forward, spiraled by fear. She’s inconsolable and you almost want to start crying yourself. Her hands tighten into fists in your sweater and yours are gliding up and down her back. 

Another crack of thunder and you don’t think she can get any closer, terrified of the monsters causing a ruckus in the clouds. It’s a wonder the lights don’t go out entirely, but they begin to flicker and it’s daunting enough that even you’re on edge. 

You feel horrible, unable to produce the right fix to calm Wren enough that she’s no longer trembling in your arms. You attempt to talk her down, a coaxing filled with soft words, your hand gliding against one of her pigtails. Her breathing has lost all pretenses, uneven huffs of air all she can manage in her race to keep pace with her dampened emotions.

“Wren?” You glance toward the door, an unfamiliar man is standing half damp and out of breath in the doorway. You’re about to ask who he is, but Wren wrenches herself from you before you have the chance, her tiny body bolting across the room and into his arms. He catches her up like he’s done so a million times before, immediately comforting her with a doting patience.

“Daddy, where were you!?” She cries, muffled against his neck where he cradles her, pressing kisses to her crown. “We were waiting for so long and then it got dark and scary.” 

“I know. I’m so sorry, sweet girl. Got held up at work and then there was an accident on the way here and I couldn’t get to a phone. I’m so sorry.” His explanation is partially directed at you, still crouched and awe struck near Wren’s chair. “Thank you for staying with her. I’m really sorry I’m late.” 

“I—it’s no problem, but…who are you?” He looks up from where he was in the midst of further consoling Wren whose tears have fallen much quieter but wouldn’t halt altogether for a while yet. His brows furrow, but he stumbles forward with his hand outstretched. An admirable feat with the way Wren demands his every attention, her fingers grasping at the extension of his sleeve.

“I’m Steve Harrington, Wren’s dad.” 

“No…Wren’s dad is Eddie. I met him yesterday…” You finally stand, looking between the two of them on high alert. Neither of you miss the way Wren wiggles in Steve’s arms, a giggle followed by wet sniffling. “Oh—oh my are you two…? I’m so sorry I didn’t know, please excuse my rudeness. I don’t mean anything by it, I’m sure you guys are a great couple.” 

“No!” There’s barely a pause, just a momentary confusion followed by  a disturbance twitching amongst the muscles of Steve’s face. “We’re not—I mean Eddie and I are not a couple. He just helps me out and picks her up from school most days. I’m Wren’s dad…her only dad.” 

You’re unsure whether you should laugh or not, but the mortification of the whole thing doesn’t allow you much of a choice. Your hand flies to cover the expanse of your mouth, fighting the sputter of voice that shapes itself as a nervous giggle. Steve hitches Wren higher where she clings to his chest, the girl gone quiet since her previous giggling. 

“Wren?” Steve prompts her, leaning back so he can see her tear stained cheeks.

“Me and Uncle Eddie tricked her.” Wren admits and you imagine the feeling of panic that crawled into your chest would’ve been horribly constricting were it not for the small chuckle from Steve. 

“You know that wasn’t very nice, right? What if something happened and your teacher got confused about who to call?” Not a huge concern considering the heaps of paperwork in your own files as well as the front office, but Steve runs with it all the same and Wren’s cheeks redden from more than her previous display of emotions. “I think you need to apologize to her, please.” 

“I’m sorry. Wasn’t nice to trick you, I’ll make sure Uncle Eddie gets in trouble too.” She promises burying her head back into Steve’s chest, shoulders still steadily heaving. 

“It’s okay, Wren, I think I’m the one who should be a little embarrassed for not realizing.” You puff, glancing at your heels shifting against the pattern tile. “In any case, I’m Y/n Y/l/n. I guess it’s good to actually meet you this time.” 

“No, please, I should be the one embarrassed for taking so long to meet you in the first place. It’s just that I'm usually working and I don’t get off in time to pick her up.” In the silence that follows, the patter of rain pelts the window and thunder echoes in the distance, a warning that you’re not quite in the worst of it. 

“Well now we’ve met, and Wren was just so excited to have you pick her up!” 

“Now Wren is ready to go home.” She pouts, something you’ve never bore witness to. You think she’s just being difficult in that way kids do when they don’t feel entirely okay about what’s happening. Steve seems put out, kissing the top of her head and smoothing her jacket beneath his palms. You walk the length back to her chair, gathering her pink backpack and sliding the untouched juicebox into the side pocket.

“Thank you.” Steve accepts the bag and carefully slings it over his shoulder. “Actually I was hoping we’d be able to talk sometime? I was planning on doing it today but obviously that’s not gonna happen, so maybe we could schedule something?” 

“Oh, yeah of course. Just let me know what works best for you.” 

“I’ll give you a call later in the week to set something up. I think I need to get someone home.” Wren nods against his chest, mumbling something you don’t quite catch. “Say bye please.” 

“Bye, thank you for the snack.” It’s an effort not to coo at the way her head momentarily lifts to glance back at you, her eyes puffy under the weight of her tears but a toothy grin making its way to her cheeks. 

“You’re welcome, sweetie. See you tomorrow.”

You watch them leave, quick to gather your own belongings and brave the strengthening storm. You stop off, just a quick pit before heading home.It’s frigid outside, the constant downpour seeping into your bones by the time you step into the general store around six.

“You're late. Rough day with the kiddos?” You pile a fresh assortment of markers to the counter, always stocking up on something these days. The most recent supply shortage is a result of a habit unteachable in most kids until they manage a hint of perfectionism in their adolescent craft. The tips of the markers seem to recede further inward with each use and soon they’ll be nothing but cylinders of plastic.

“Yeah, there was a parent late for pick-up so I had to stick around a little longer.”

“Did you tell them you’re not a daycare service?” Joyce pops a hard candy into her mouth, offering one across the counter. You take the wrapped good between your fingers, the ghost of a smile pinching your muscles. 

“No, he was really nice and apologized a million times. Plus, his daughter is really sweet so I didn’t mind.”

“His daughter’s sweet, huh?” Her tone holds a teasing lilt, one you ignore in favor of popping the candy past your lips. Strawberry.

“How long are you in for? It’s getting pretty ugly out there.” 

“Yeah, I’ll probably start closing up behind you so I can get home to Will.” She passes your bag over the counter, heading to the door to flip the ‘closed’ sign. “You should come over for dinner in a couple of weeks! I meant to invite you the other day, but it completely slipped my mind.” 

“Oh, are you having people over? A couple of weeks is a lot of notice.”

“Just a few, something casual that I like to do from time to time. Just some of Will’s friends and some of mine, which includes you now.” You beam, twirling your bag between your fingers in an attempt not to seem too eager at the small admission. You haven’t had much time to navigate Hawkins before the start of the school year and no one seemed keen on letting you forget your lack of camaraderie. 

“That would be really great, thank you. Should I bring anything?” 

“If you want. But those kids will eat anything so don’t think too hard about it.” 

“Great! I should get going, but I’ll probably see you in a few days. The kids have started rebelling against me by breaking all the crayons into halves.” 

“Yikes.”

“I guess I should just be glad they’re sharing, right?”

~*~

“Wren, please eat your dinner.”

She’s been like this since they got home, a refusal to cooperate with Steve’s attempts at getting her to do anything. He’s not upset with her, more annoyed at the entirety of the situation; at Keith for keeping him longer than necessary and at the jackass who rear ended the poor old woman on his drive to school. 

She’s barely spoken a word to him since he buckled her into her booster seat and placed a kiss to her cheek with another apology for being so late. He thinks it a feat she wandered over to the table at all, now sitting stock straight and stubborn as ever.

The storm still rages outside, pelting the window with ferocity. Steve can tell Wren isn’t unafraid, but too upset with him to voice her concerns about it. He knows it’s at least part of her sour mood, but it doesn’t feel whole.

“Don’t want it.” She pouts, Floppy tucked beneath her arm and her fingers jammed between her lips. She’s red in the cheeks, has been since he found her crying in your arms, and he thinks she might be warm from all her fussing. He made a can of soup, chicken noodle because she’s going through a phase and has decided tomato looks too much like vomit.

“Come on, lovebug, just a little before it gets cold.” 

He pilots the spoon to her lips and she seals them tight, shaking her head and shoving it away. The spoon skitters along the table, golden liquid splashing everywhere. 

“No!”

It’s a long meditated practice in patience and the lingering resentment from his own childhood that keeps him from losing it just then. He stands from the chair at her side and silently grabs the spoon from the center of the table to toss into the full bowl. He dabs at the spilled broth with a napkin, slowly to give him more time to collect the heavy emotion coiling in his chest. 

“Wren, go to your room.” He thinks she must be able to feel the tension rolling off of him in waves. He can see her climbing from her chair without a word to trudge down the hall, her heavy steps sinking into the carpet. He winces when she slams the door then he’s collapsing at the table shielding his face in his hands.

He’s at a loss. He feels frustrated and pathetic. His kid is just being a kid, throwing a tantrum. He should be able to handle it, right? 

He thinks it would be easier if it was something she’d ever done before, but she hasn’t. Sure she’s pouted over small things like the wrong color popsicle or having to keep her beloved bunny home when she goes to school, but those things are kissed away as easily as they popped into her beautiful little brain. Never has she been so forthright in her ire that she outright refuses to listen.

This time he doesn’t even really know the problem, so how’s he supposed to fix it?

He leaves her for a while, both of them needing the situation to cool a bit before he attempts to neutralize it. The apartment is silent save for the sound of him cleaning the dishes from dinner, tucking the uneaten soup into a container for later. He glances at the clock, the time nearing eight-thirty when he decides he’s spent enough time stewing.

When he enters her room, the lights are on and he can see her in a lump beneath her comforter. 

“Wren.” She shifts beneath the blankets, alerting him she’s not asleep, but doesn’t respond as anything other than a quiet whimper. “Can we talk please, lovebug? I’m not mad, I just wanna know what’s wrong.” 

He settles beside her, gently tugging the blanket back expecting to find her head resting against the pillow. Instead her feet poke out of the top, his hand playfully caressing her heels and she giggles kicking at him. 

“Daddy!” She squeals when he pulls her free from the mass of blankets to settle in his lap. She’s changed, a pair of bright blue pajamas in place of her denim. 

“There’s my Wren.”  He smiles and she curls further into him. “Okay, bug, wanna tell me what’s goin on? Is it because I was late?” 

She crawls out of his lap to settle beneath her blankets and lifts the edge, a silent invitation he gladly accepts. He begins pulling the ribbons from her hair, something she couldn’t always manage on her own. He frees the loose strands from the clips secured at her scalp and plops them on her nightstand. She hums when his hands run through her hair, loosening it around her shoulders. 

“Today was a hard day, but I need you to talk to me. I can’t make it better if I don’t know what’s wrong.” He waits another moment for her to speak, knowing sometimes she chews on words a little longer because she wants to be understood.

“I thought you weren’t coming and I was so scared.” It’s barely a whisper, hands grabbing at one of Steve’s where it holds her against him. Both of her hands fit into the span of his palm and it reminds him that though her maturity is great she’s still barely past the point of sleeping through the night. Just a little girl more afraid of the world than even he realizes. 

“I’m sorry I scared you, but I need you to understand that I will always come for you, Wren. No matter what.” 

“But what if you don’t? What if you never come just like mama.” His heart breaks entirely too suddenly, the fractured pieces seeping with sorrow for his daughter’s bleak admission. 

It’s not often she asks about her mom, always content with things the way they are, just the two of them. Steve explained things as best he could without damning her with the knowledge that it was without a heavy heart that her mother handed her over and ditched Hawkins for a “better future”. One without teen pregnancy in the rearview. 

He figured it wasn’t something he’d have to address again until she was much older, and certainly not because she was afraid he would leave her behind.

“Is that what this is about? You’ve been thinking about your mom?” 

“Everyone’s always talking about their moms at school and it just made me think about mine. I don’t know her at all, not even a picture.” She sighs, head lolling to one side as the day begins to catch up to her. “I look in the mirror sometimes to see, but everyone says I look just like you.” 

“I’m sorry, sweet girl, I wish things could be different.” He loves them the way they are, but he would never deny her the opportunity to have a mother. 

“Do you think she’ll ever come to see me?” 

“I don’t know, bug, I’m sorry.” 

Wren pauses for a beat, like she’s thinking about exactly how it makes her feel. 

“It’s okay, daddy, I love you most.” She presses a kiss to his cheek, sloppy and full of affection. Just enough to make him smile through this painful moment of parenting. “Just don’t ever leave me.” 

“I’ve got you, don’t you worry about that.” He holds her like that for a while, listening to her breathing as it evens out, pressed against him with her rabbit beneath her arm. He slowly untangles himself and slides the length of the mattress, pressing a kiss to her head.

“Daddy?” Her sleep filled voice stops him in his tracks. 

“Yeah?”

“Do I look like her…just a little?” 

He wants to tell her that she looks like his little girl, the only thing that matters to him in the world, but he knows it's not what she needs right now. 

“Of course you do.” She smiles sleepily and he places another soft kiss on her forehead. “Goodnight, sweet girl.” 

“Goodnight, daddy.” 

~*~

“Okay, Wren, you can pick one.” Steve stands at attention, one hand slipping from his pocket to secure the hat over Wren’s ears before she can jet off between the rows of pumpkins. He dots kisses on her nose, her tongue darting out to tease his chin much to her own amusement. “Just make sure it’s a good one, I don’t want one that’s molding after a few days like last time.” 

“Daddy, that wasn’t my fault.” She’s adamant, has been ever since the incident first occurred. Now she’s taken to shifting on her feet with her hands on her hips, far too much like Steve if anyone were to judge. “You’re the one who put it right by the window so its insides got cooked by the sun!” 

“I wasn’t blaming you, I was just saying!” 

It was a promise he made the morning after the talk. To come out to one of the local farms and let Wren pick a pumpkin out this weekend. She’s been on her best behavior and he still feels guilt bleeding into his gut after what happened. 

Either way it’s tradition, letting her pick a pumpkin so they can gut it and carve it into a face. Wren is mostly into the sport of the whole thing, running up and down the rows of the patch dead set on finding the perfect pumpkin. She’s usually too grossed out by the mess of scooping the stringy organs of the fall fruit and Steve is certainly not comfortable with her wielding a carving knife, but he always lets her draw the face, silently questioning her ability to get the marker everywhere.

She also loves roasting the seeds and Steve usually picks a second pumpkin because Joyce will make pie or a pumpkin roll.

Wren races off, her converse kicking up the dried dirt and leaves beneath her feet. Steve watches her closely, wincing when she nearly trips over a root. Never a dull moment. 

“Hey…you’re Wren’s dad, right?” The tone is teasing, and Steve glances to find you, Wren’s teacher with an assortment of baby pumpkins in a crate tucked in your arms. 

You spotted him in the thin crowd after purchasing the barrage of seasonal squash and debated for the better part of five minutes whether it would be odd to amble over. Curiosity got the better and here you stand in the beholden of Steve Harrington with what you would describe as a look of adorable confusion dotting the lines of his cheeks.

“Hi, yeah, nice to see you again, Ms…”

“Y/n is fine.” 

“Y/n. Are you hunting for class pumpkins?” He gently coaxes the box from your arms, chuckling at the way your shoulders sag without the extra weight. He glances toward Wren, making sure she’s not too far gone and finds her bent over chatting animatedly with a plump gourd.

“Yeah, I thought it would be fun to have a little pumpkin decorating contest. Though, glitter and paint…I might not have as much fun as them.” He’s immediately smitten with your smile, the way it takes over the entirety of your face and pushes at the edges of your eyes. “What about you? Gonna see if you can out decorate Wren? I’ve got bad news for you because as her teacher I can confirm that you’re gonna lose.” 

“Oh I have no doubt. I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve fished one of her drawings out of my pocket at work.” He sounds exasperated but the entirety of his fondness is concentrated in the raised crinkles of his eyes. 

“That’s so sweet.” 

“Not so sweet when you pass it to your boss instead of the list of new releases—”

“Aw, he didn’t like it?” Your hand covers the crease in your cheek, feigned surprise to counter Steve’s lopsided grimace.

“Told me to stop messing around on the job.” 

“Well, I think it’s totally worth it. You’ve got a pretty great kid.” It feels odd, the umbrella of formality shading your exchange. Steve’s not sure what it is, but as much as he wants to he feels awkward suggesting a topic more casual than a teacher praising her pupil, unsure if it would be a toe too far over the line. “You never called by the way!” 

“Huh?” He’s taken out of his thoughts for a moment, the words something he hasn’t heard someone say to him with such curiosity since high school. It’s ridiculously reminiscent and he has to remind himself that he’s so far removed from that time in his life that it wouldn’t make any sense to think of it now.

“About that meeting you wanted to set up. I only mention it because you seemed a little concerned…” 

“Oh, yeah. Maybe we could do it sometime this week? I can plan a half day and we can talk when I come to pick Wren up…I promise I’ll be on time.” 

“Yeah, that sounds fine. How is Wren after the other day? She was pretty shaken up.” Your concern warms him beneath the cool of autumn, the sight of Wren happier than ever zig-zagging between pumpkins not enough to sway you from the certainty of her well-being. 

He wonders if his sudden fondness for you is strange. Hopefully not when you’ve shown such an astounding interest in his daughter. He hasn’t missed the extra encouragement on her papers, little notes left in the margins about the anecdotes Wren shares with you in class. 

He’s choosing to ignore the flutter of attraction that washed over him when he saw you standing there with pumpkins in your arms. It’s simple but the way you’re wearing your cute orange sweater and flared jeans is like nothing he’s seen before. Not the clothes really, but the way you wear them with such nonchalance, picking at pumpkin shaded fuzz like you don’t realize you’re more than a momentary guide for the youth of Hawkins. 

“She’s better, thank you for asking.” 

“Daddy!” Just in time Wren sprints over, tugging on the fabric of his jeans with urgency. He thinks she might have to use the restroom with the way she balances on the toes of her converse, eyes larger than usual. “Daddy, come on we have to get this one before someone takes it! What’s in your hands? You can’t carry our pumpkin with that thing in the way.” 

“I’m sorry, your dad was just giving me a hand.” Wren spots you then, hanging from Steve’s leg like she’ll fly away if she eases up. 

“Oh…hi. Did you hear about the pumpkins too?” She glances the way she came, still on edge about the perfect pumpkin escaping her grasp. “My daddy and I are gonna decorate one. I want it to look like Uncle Eddie.” 

She does the horns again and Steve swears he’s gonna kick Eddie’s ass. 

“That sounds like fun! I don’t wanna keep you from your pumpkin, but you can tell me all about it on Monday. Maybe even take a picture so we can hang it in the classroom.” 

Wren brightens at that, half because you’ve remembered her camera and half at the prospect of her hellfire pumpkin wreaking havoc on her classmates. You look back at Steve, arms extended for the lofty crate and he hesitates for a moment. He’s not unnoticed by Wren who glances between her teacher and her dad, catching the lack of space between them. 

“You should come have lunch with us! We’re going to Benny’s and he has the yummiest french fries. Don’t you like french fries?” She inquires with her wide eyes, forgetting altogether about the perfect pumpkin, Steve notes. 

“Come on, Wren, everyone loves french fries.” You placate her, though not without glancing at Steve, bashful under his attentive gaze. He doesn’t step in, more than happy to have you join but no intention to pressure you more than Wren already has. He knows it may seem mean spirited, but he’s not willing to embarrass himself by making it clear he’s not ready to see you go, whatever the reason may be. “You know, I’d love to, but I should probably get home.” 

“Noooo!” Wren drags it out, leaving a wrinkle where she’d been gripping Steve’s pants. He shakes the leg and watches horrified when Wren clears the gap between the two of you and yanks the edge of your sweater. “You have to come! It’ll be perfect!” 

“Wren.” He hopes the hard tone isn’t something he’ll have to use more often, but it does the trick. Wren takes a step back, the grace of embarrassment sticking to her cheeks in a rose blush. “Sorry, she just gets a little excited sometimes. But you’re more than welcome to join us if you want.” 

“I don’t wanna impose, looks like you two are having a cute day together.” 

“It’s not imposing, we’re inviting you.” Steve tuts, freeing his hand long enough to swipe at a strand clinging to his forehead. He can see you thinking it over, which means that you do want to come, you just aren’t sure it’s a good idea. “Benny does have the best fries.” 

“Yeah, and you look cute today too! It’ll be a cute day with the three of us!” 

“Well…I am pretty hungry. Plus, I think I have to be the judge of those fries.” 

“Yay!” Wren dances in place, reaching for Steve’s occupied hands. “Daddy, we have to go get our pumpkin. I want chicken tendies.” 

“Ok, why don’t you go on over and make sure no one takes it. I’ll be there in a second.” He nods in the direction she came from, watching her skip back between the rows with nothing more than a breathless affirmation. 

“Are you sure you don’t mind me tagging along? I know it can be hard to say ‘no’ sometimes.” 

“Positive. Wren seems to like you a lot and I'd like to get to know you better myself.”

“I’d like to get to know you too. I mean, it’s always good to know what kinds of parents I’m working with.” He’s cheeky now, element restored upon realization that you’re just as nervous as he is. 

“If you like to get to know all your parents…then you were just playing hard to get?” You blanche, placing your hands on the edge of your crate of pumpkins. You lose your balance but Steve tugs the weight toward him to help you steady. 

You’re transfixed following your dissipation of momentary panic. If you thought Eddie was pretty you aren’t quite comfortable with the way your chest skips a beat when you really look at Steve. 

There’s something of a conventional attraction to him, all hazel eyes and big hair, styled just perfectly to steal your attention away from the deep blue fleece jacket obscuring the t-shirt you imagine hugging his arms. His smile pushes into dimples, precious divots in the plains of his complexion, curling with his lips when he speaks. 

There are also the perfect imperfections like moles dotting his skin and the freckles lining his nose from the kiss of summer still lingering with his fading tan. The way his nose stands out amongst the symmetry of his features, all but forcing you to wonder what it would feel like if you kissed him and felt the flush of it against your skin.

“As if any of them would offer.” 

“Hm, their loss.” 

“Strong words for someone who doesn’t know me all that well. Let me take those! I think I’ve kept you from your pumpkins long enough.” Both of you realize the awkward dance you’re fallen victim to. Fingers kissing in the holes of the crate in effect of your attempt to fully unmarry Steve from it. “Um…thanks for the break. Should I meet you guys at Benny's? I don’t want these to get all gross in the car, so I wanna drop em’ off.” 

“We could pick you up.” Steve takes a leap, unclear of his intentions but too late to take it back. He can hear a distant singing, Wren’s attempts to coax him in her direction and it forces him further. “I mean, it’s no trouble. Would be easier if we just grabbed you on the way because I never know how long she’s gonna take with these things.” 

“I’m well aware.” You laugh and he knows you really mean it. It’s a refreshing feeling, someone who actually understands him rather than blank stares and constant confusion when he explains a concept foreign to anyone without a mini version of themselves plodding two steps behind them at all times. You pull a pad from the tote hanging on your shoulder and an ink pen just behind it; scribbling for a moment you tear the flesh of the page slipping it between Steve’s fingers. “Take your time, I’m happy to wait until she has the perfect pumpkin.”

“Strong words.” 

“I mean every one of them.” 

~*~ 

As it turns, the perfect pumpkin took longer than you initially anticipated. Not that you mind, it gave you enough time to make sure all your pumpkins were clean and stored somewhere suitable until you brought them in Monday morning. You almost want to change, the lingering layer of dirt a ghost against your skin, but it feels too formal and you don’t want Steve to think anything of it. 

You opt to thoroughly wash your hands and spritze a fresh layer of perfume, in the middle of the second step when there’s a knock at the door. You fumble the bottle, panicking when it crashes into the porcelain sink just barely catching between your thumb and pointer. Your recovery is short lived when you hear the front door balancing on its hinges. 

“Hello! We’re here for Ms. Y/l/n.” Wren sings and you can already picture your aunt bending to greet her with the biggest smile, glancing toward Steve filled with a hopeful curiosity.

You hurry into the hall, watching Steve’s shoulders loosen when he spots you speeding toward them. Your aunt is in fact folded in half, her hands on her knees while she talks to Wren. You hope she’s not wearing her usual perfume, the one that makes her smell more like a burnt cookie than the fresh one touted on the label.

“Well hi there! I don’t think we’ve met before.” You lock eyes with Steve, hoping the funny look on your face is explanation enough. 

“I’m Wren Harrington! I’m five years old and I want chicken tenders.” Wren slouches backward into Steve’s legs, eyes brightening like she’s just realized he’s there. “This is my daddy!”

“Steve, nice to meet you.” You bound over, placing your hand on the curve of your aunt’s shoulders, drawing her attention away from your current company. You see the glint in her eye before she can speak, lengthening your speech for the occasion. 

“I’ve told you about Wren before! She’s the one who drew me that lovely picture with all the flowers.” You draw the comparison because it was ages spent listening to her talk about how cute it was everytime she opened the fridge. You agree, but the gasp of shock with nearly every gallon of iced tea has grown to an increasing redundancy so you’re positive she hasn’t forgotten it.

“You saw my picture?” It’s like it’s been hung in a gallery the way Wren leaps forward, her eyes finding pace around the room like it’s here and she just hasn’t found it yet. You can guess her own house must be filled with her in small doses, plastered to the fridge and reflected in frames. It doesn’t take a degree to see that Steve is just as fond of Wren as she is of him, his eyes lingering on her excitement. 

“I sure did, made your favorite teacher hang it right on the fridge for everyone to see!” 

“Can I see?!” Wren glances at Steve, a silent permission to venture further into the unfamiliar home when your aunt extends her hand. 

“Go on.” He nods, patting her back to gently thrust her forward. He gives you his whole attention then, brow raised against his hairline and a kind smile cresting his lips. “The fridge huh?” 

“You should’ve just honked, it would’ve saved you the trouble.” 

“I don’t mind. Wren can find a friend in just about anyone.” You can hear the excited chatter coming from the kitchen, no doubt Wren’s willingness to guide her audience through the entirety of her creation from the color crayons to the touch of glitter you recollect painting the sky. There’s an awkward lull standing here with Steve, one you attempt to remedy.

“So, what is it that you do exactly? You’ve mentioned work keeps you occupied.” 

“Oh.” Steve shifts awkwardly, cheeks tinged a crimson shade. You worry you’ve stepped too far, still unversed in the politics of small town suburbia. 

“I’m sorry, that was rude. Forget I asked.” Steve knuckles your shoulder, a small smile, a consolation.

“No, it’s…I don’t mind. Let’s just say I’m no professional or anything.”

“You’ve got time, I promise. No judgment here.”  

“I’ve been working at Family Video since I graduated basically. Not that I would’ve gotten in, but with Wren college was near impossible.” You don’t miss the derogation coating the words. It pains you to think he blames his lack of what he deems professionalism on some preconceived notion of success not within his reach. “I’m not really sure what to do now, so it puts food on the table, ya know?” 

“Nothing wrong with not knowing. Especially when you and Wren are both so young.” You shrug, your own attempt at alleviating the misplaced self hate. “I mean, maybe she can help you find what you wanna do. Kids tend to be the best judge of character.” 

“You’re the best!” Wren runs back into the room, bulldozing right into your knees and burrowing into your sweater. “Thank you for hanging my picture.” 

“See?” You nudge Steve, assuaging his uncertainty about Wren’s sudden affection. “Of course I hung it, no one’s ever drawn me anything before. I love it!” 

“Well, I can draw you pictures all the time. Don’t even worry about it!” Wren’s exuberance is palpable, the whole of the room sprinkled with the fondness of her unbridled youth. “Can we go now? I’m hungry.”

“You all should get going, don’t let me keep you. I’ve got a coffee date with Gretchen anyhow.” She all but shoves the lot of you toward the front door, Wren already fastened around the hand your aunt hasn’t shoved your purse into. “Have fun! It was nice meeting you two, we’ll have dinner sometime.” 

It’s a process getting Wren into her booster, her body flailing all over the place like her limbs are sentient in their own right. It’s the excitement of the whole thing and Steve is out of breath but still calm when he settles in the driver's seat. You manage to school your amusement, but he catches a glimpse of it all the same. 

“Something funny?” 

“Nope, we're all good. Right, Wren?” 

“All good!” She parrots, a small blanket tucked across her chest. It’s cute, a soft pink color patterned with white plaid. “Your aunt is very nice but she smells like fire and chocolate. I thought she was cooking badly, but she said she wasn’t cooking anything.”

“Wren, that's not very nice.” Steve admonishes, tinkering with the dial on the radio. 

“No it’s okay, she’s right. It’s her new perfume, Wren. I haven’t had the heart to tell her it doesn’t smell as good as she thinks.” Your head lolls over, eyes glancing toward the backseat where Wren is picking at her nails. “Hey, you got the pumpkins!” 

She looks at you, then flashes her hand forward to point at them. “I got candy corn too! I think they taste gross, but Max said it just looks pretty.” 

“They do, they look so pretty. I’m jealous.” 

“I also got a ghost…his name is Steve Sheet.” She wags her pointer finger, painted black with an open mouthed ghost staring back. 

“Any relation?” You momentarily lock eyes with the human Steve as he fastens his arm around your seat and pushes to reverse.

“I’m not sayin a word.” 

“Last Halloween I asked daddy to dress up with me and he wore a sheet on his head. I asked if he was a ghost and he said he was Steve Sheet.” Wren fills in giggling. “Isn’t that just so silly?” 

“The silliest. But I bet Steve Sheet was very cute.” 

“I was a very handsome sheet, thank you. Wren, hand please.” You look back in time to see her pulling her fingers from her lips and wiping them on her bottoms. She mumbles something about how he always sees her, very inconvenienced by the whole thing. 

There’s a contented silence for the remainder of the ride to Benny’s save for Wren’s frequent mumbling to herself in the backseat. Steve seems unbothered, like she does it often. When you take a moment to listen long enough you realize she’s practicing reading the signs as they flash. You’ve been working on helping her with pronunciation in class and she’s still having trouble but your heart is full at how easily she can make out the words even if they don’t sound entirely correct.

You think you could stay like this. A fleeting thought, but a thought you know is genuine.

When you’re finally sliding into a table at Benny’s Burgers Wren is a bit stumped. You and Steve take opposite sides of the table and the girl stands at the head like you’ve given her an impossible choice.

“Where should I sit?” Hands on her hips, lips pouting toward the two as if you should’ve all sat on one side. 

“You should sit with me because I’m your favorite teacher in the world, right?” You slide the chair out, patting the lightly cushioned seat with a candy grin. Wren slowly nods her head, drifting over.

“Now wait just a second!” Steve cuts him, feigned offense lining his lips. He frees the chair beside him from beneath the table, dotting his chin with his pointer finger in much thought. “I think that as the best daddy in the world, your words Miss Harrington not mine, you should come and sit next to me.” 

“That’s a good point, I did say that. Benny, what do I do?” The man himself stations at the head of the table, a kind smile when Wren addresses him with his grease stained henley and a loose apron lining his waist. “We have to talk about getting a circle table. At school we have circle tables and I can sit next to both of my friends!”

“I’ll see what I can do.” He chuckles, plopping a thin coloring book and a box of crayons down and sliding one of the extra chairs so it’s situated between yourself and Steve. “For now, how about this?” 

“Perfect! And you remembered my coloring book? You’re the best!” Wren climbs into the seat, flipping the book open to a half colored kitten with rainbow stripes and exaggerated whiskers. “Benny this is Ms. Y/l/n, she’s my teacher and she’s never had your french fries before.” 

“Well she better be new in town.” He huffs, mocking some fickle offense at the mere thought. “It’s nice to meet you.” 

“You too, and call me Y/n. I’m pretty eager to try the best fries ever.” 

“Well I’ll get started on em right away if you all know what you want? Well…I know what these two regs want.” He nods toward Steve and Wren, the former seeming caught at the revelation that they come here far more than maybe they should. “What can I get you?” 

“I’ll take a cheeseburger, no tomato please, with fries and a coke.” Benny nods, tapping his pen against the pad of paper and trudging back to the kitchen.

“Wren, you can call me by my first name when we’re not in school, I promise I don’t mind.” You pat her free hand, the one not hard at work coloring the kitten a lovely shade of amethyst. She looks up, lips opening and closing silently. Practicing. 

“First name?” She asks, like it’s a trick. 

“Uh huh! It feels so weird to be Ms anything outside of school. Makes me feel old.” Wren giggles but goes back to her coloring, mumbling a chord in which she just repeats your name to herself over and over. You find Steve then, pulling at the plastic corner of one of the menus.

“How long have you been in town?” He attempts to lead the conversation, still not exactly sure where to take you. He hopes you don’t bring him to the realization that you’ve really always been in town, perhaps one of those people he was always too self involved to notice. 

It seems unlikely, the whole of your existence feeling like something he wouldn’t have been able to ignore in school. Though perhaps you’d be the one doing the ignoring, far too out of his league when he really thinks of it. 

“Oh, not long. I only got in officially about a week before school started. I’m still getting used to it all really. The small town vibe.”

“You didn’t live here before?” Wren interrupts, moved from the kitten to the tight ball of yarn with a soft orange crayon. 

“Nope. I moved here to work after school. Hawkins seemed like a good place to get my feet wet after student teaching in the city.” 

“Well I’m glad you’re here!” Benny cuts in again then, passing drinks around, a sippy cup filled with juice for Wren, like it’s been waiting for her return. “The other teacher seemed nice, but I heard she always gave the class raisins for snack.” 

“I’m glad I’m here too.” You scrunch your nose, sipping from your coke and nearly coughing from the sudden carbonation building in your chest. “It’s nice, but it’s definitely daunting. Everyone already seems to know each other so I’m not really sure where I fit.”

“Trust me, it’s not just because you’re new. People here are unwelcoming at the best of times even if they’re all smiles. But now you’ve got Wren and I to show you the ropes.” Steve grabs a hold of Wren’s sippy cup, double checking Benny didn’t sneak any soda, and slips it closer to the center of the table so Wren’s arm isn’t nearly nudging it to the floor. 

You’re amiable until your food arrives, Steve inquiring about your time in school, clearly feeling some sense of longing though you’re not sure what for exactly. It’s hard to grasp his feelings on the whole thing and you’re too uninitiated to ask outright. 

You lightly tread when asking him about his own experiences. He mostly talks about Wren in her younger years— ”Daddy it was always Floppy!” —and the gaggle of children that have become all but his family. He glosses over the ones long gone and nestles himself in the affection of the ones gone but soon to return. By the time Benny is placing steaming plates in front of your intimate trio you feel like you’d do anything to know more about Steve Harrington. So open yet admiringly elusive.

You decide rather quickly that Benny’s fries are some of the best you’ve ever had and Wren seems satisfied at your admission. She doesn’t talk much through her eating, but Steve seems worried about the way she’s shoveling it down. 

“Lovebug, please slow down before you choke. I promise it’s not going anywhere. Have a drink of juice.” 

“But daddy, I’m hungryyyy!” She drags the words like she’s not already eating, like taking even a moment from the crispy chicken will be her end all. Steve ignores the drama, wetting his thumb and dragging it along a dollop of ketchup at the corner of her lips. 

“Wren, please.” Is all he says, sucking his finger clean and taking a hearty bite of his burger. She listens, taking a lengthy sip of juice but immediately shoving another tender into her cheeks. Steve looks like he’s prepared to scold her again but her brows lift to the sky and she bounces in her seat.

“Uncle Eddie!” Wren exclaims through her mouthful of chicken. She halfheartedly chews, suddenly annoyed with the obstruction of speech. Even through the mumbled clamor Eddie is attuned to her presence right away. He struts over, the metal looped through his jeans clanking beneath the slap of his converse against the checkerboard tile. He’s not alone though. “Uncle Eddie, who is that lady?” 

She points to the girl who’d followed after him, standing a ways away like she wasn’t sure if she was welcome. If it were up to Wren she certainly wouldn’t be. 

“Hey, little bird, how’s my favorite girl?” Wren wastes no time making it abundantly clear she is not pleased that anyone else could take up Eddie’s time. She hums, settling back into her seat and chugging her juice. 

“Wren slow down, please.” Steve’s speech is automatic, you can tell it’s a common occurrence when Eddie doesn’t flinch.Steve isn’t nearly as coy about his line of questioning as Wren, peeking over Eddie’s shoulder but having half a mind to lower his voice so as not to scare her off. “You on a date?” 

“Something like that.” He waves it off, but brightens when his gaze lands on you, somewhat embarrassed to see Eddie after all but assuming he was Wren’s dad. “Seems I’m not the only one. What’s up, teach?” 

“Hey, Uncle Eddie. It’s nice to see you again.”

“Yeah I heard I was in trouble. I haven’t had detention since high school, but I have a feeling you’d make it a lot more fun.” He teases and Steve kicks his leg where rests at the base of Wren’s chair. 

“Uncle Eddie, sit with us!” Wren tugs at the lining of his jacket, whining a tad. It’s obvious it’s Eddie’s kryptonite, the way he kneels beside her and places a gentle kiss against her cheek indicative of how much it pains him to say ‘no’.

“I’m sorry, sweetness, but I’m here with my friend.” 

“Who is she? I don’t know her.” 

“No, you don’t. She’s just a friend, Wrennie, you don’t have to be jealous.” Eddie coos, pushing his nose against Wren’s to which she places her hands on his cheeks, pulling back to press her own kiss against his soft skin. 

“Daddy said date. A date is for love.”

“Sometimes a date can just be for fun or to get to know someone.” Eddie corrects, you and Steve watching him attempt to talk himself out of her bad graces. 

“You don’t need to get to know someone, you have me.”

“And you’re my favorite girl in the whole world, but I have to have someone to keep me occupied when your dad is hogging you.” Steve scoffs, hogging his own daughter, a highly amusing feat he seems to have reached. “I’ll come see you tomorrow. You can have me the whole day.” 

“Promise?” She extenders her pinky, her other hand curling its way around a piece of Eddie’s hair and gently yanking it at the roots. 

“I promise, super duper swear.” He connects their pinkies and tucks them against his lips. When he releases her she looks at his companion once more, moved to a table in the corner, where she periodically glances over like Eddie might have a seat or turn around and leave without her. She seems content enough and shoves a fry into her mouth, chewing animatedly. “Speaking of dates, this is a cute one you guys are on.” 

“It’s not a date Eddie, it’s a cute day!” Wren corrects, rubbing her salty fingers on her shirt before Steve can catch her with a napkin. There are already stains where she’d clearly already gotten away with it a number of times. “Daddy, are you okay? Why are you so red?” 

Despite your own heat, you look at Steve but not long enough for him to feel more embarrassed than he does. Eddie smiles, clapping Steve on the shoulder triumphantly. 

“I’m not, it’s just warm in here.” Steve mutters, avoiding you altogether.

“You look like a tomato.” She counters, dipping her fry in ketchup and holding it up to his face before shoving it at Eddie who bites it out of her hand. 

“No, I think it’s more like a heart. Right, Wren?” 

“Yeah a heart.” 

“Eddie, I think your friend is waiting for you.” You pipe up, pointing to the girl in the corner who is suddenly simpering. You don’t blame her irritation, being left alone while her date shoots the shit with people he won’t even introduce her to. Not that it would go particularly well. You’ve seen kids at their most jealous and suddenly Wren is no exception. 

“Okay, I goin. But don’t have too much fun without me, we still have to schedule that detention!” 

“Yeah, because Uncle Eddie has been bad!” Wren contributes, seeming to forget her role as a silent accomplice in the whole thing. 

“So bad!” Eddie agrees, sending Steve a wink over his shoulder. “I can’t wait to be punished.” 

[deepdiveintothedeephive]

Stranger Things Masterlist

(Ongoing 2016 TV Series)

One Shots Multi-Chapter

Ongoing Completed

F!Reader = Female Reader

M!Reader = Male Reader

G!Reader = Gender Neutral Reader

Character(s) :

Eddie Munson

One Shots :

You look Lonely by @eddiemunsons-missingnipple (VirginRockstar!Eddie x F!Groupie!Reader)

Hold Your Horses by @oneforthemunny (Cowboy!Eddie x F!Reader)

Recipes for Romance by @lokis-army-77 (Bestfriend!Eddie x F!Reader)

The Taste of You by @onegirlmanytales (PervRoomate!Eddie x F!Reader)

Janitor!Eddie x F!Teacher!Reader Shorts by @oneforthemunny

Cheese Dust by @eddies-house (BusDriver!Eddie x Teacher!Reader)

Burning Desire by @lavendermunson (Professor! Eddie x F!Collegestudent!reader)

Multi-Chapter :

The Dark Paradise by @munsons-hellfire (Biker!Eddie x F!Teacher!Reader)

The Story of Us by @svbrbnlegends (MusicTeacher!Eddie x F!Teacher!Reader) Part 1 Here

Pencil Shavings and Shared Smiles by @gravedigginbbydoll (Teacher!Eddie x F!Teacher!Reader)

Crayons & Cassettes by @comfort-writing (Dad!Eddie x F!Teacher!Reader)

Don’t Stand so Close to Me by @word-wytch (Student!Eddie x F!Teacher!Reader, Eddie is of age)

The “Yes” Policy by @pinkrelish (Mechanic!Singledad!Eddie x F!Reader)

I Wanna be Yours by @allthingseddie (SingleDad!Eddie x F!BestFriend!Reader)

Steve Harrington

One Shots :

Sun Burnt by @inkluvs (Cowboy!Steve x F!Reader)

Big Dick!Steve x F!Reader by @cherryc1nnam0n

What I go to School for by @radioactiveparker ( Student!Steve x F!Teacher!Reader)

Multi-Chapter :

Baby I Can’t Fight This Feeling by @superblysubpar (CoWorker!Steve x F!Reader)

A Lesson in Romantics by @stvharrngton (Teacher!Steve x F!Teacher!Reader)

[katyswrites]

Playing around with a SingleDad!Steve x reader fic… maybe, perhaps…

[pinkrelish]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 "𝐲𝐞𝐬" 𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐲.

singledad!mechanic!eddie x fem!reader

✶Surely, when two friends set up their two friends on a blind date in the very small town of Hawkins, they make sure those two people don't know each other beforehand, right? And, more importantly, aren't coworkers, right?✶

NSFW — slow burn, fluff, flirting, mutual pining, angst towards the end, drug/alcohol mention/use, 18+ overall for eventual smut

chapter: 3/20 [wc: 6.1k]

↳ part 01 / 02 / 03 / 04 / 05 / 06 / 07 / 08 / 09 / 10 / 11 / 12

AO3

Chapter 3: The Accidental First Date

“Is this too much?” you asked, yanking down the visor and checking yourself in the small mirror.

Sitting in the back parking lot of the movie theater, you went through your purse for the finishing touches on your look. Doing your last paranoia check for anything in your teeth, turning your head this way and that to zhuzh your hair, and most importantly, preening your oxymoron of a sweater to show a decent amount of cleavage without flashing the cups of your push-up bra.

Truly a walking contradiction of a top. Cable knit and warm, but with a plunging neckline, to where the top button started at your sternum.

“No, you look hot,” Robin assured with her goofy smile. “New York modest is Hawkins slutty. He’s gonna love you.”

You shrank into your girlish giggle. “Good, I want my dating debut in this little town to be a statement. Set the stage for future escapades.. Until I run out of men, I guess. Seriously, how many bachelors live here and aren’t total hicks? Four?” Robin laughed.

“Could be worse. You could be a lesbian.”

“True,” you concurred. “Good thing you have Vickie. Sucks she couldn’t come tonight.” Robin made a sad huff of agreement, working a mascara wand through her lashes. “Hey, I know I said ‘yes’ without asking, but is this guy you set me up with even my type? Not that I care, obviously; a good story is a good story, but I’m just trying to set my expectations here.”

She furrowed her eyebrows dramatically, and paused unscrewing her lip gloss to rock her entire body into a positive affirmation–almost bumping her forehead on the steering wheel from the force of her nodding. “Oh, absolutely,” she said emphatically. “Looks scary on the outside, but is a total sweetheart on the inside. Overconfident, and obnoxious, but in that charming, swoony way.”

“Perfect!” You clasped your hands together.

Stepping out of the car, she waited for you so you could walk with your arms linked together, and she continued, “I haven’t seen him in years, but Steve was telling me over the phone that he’s been going through a tough time, and hasn’t been on a date in a while.”

“Aw, poor guy.”

There was a beat of silence where both of your faces twisted into knowing smiles.

“I know what that look means..” Robin led, canting her head to you.

Innocent, you lifted your shoulder in a coy shrug, bringing a collection of her soft hair up to your chin. “No idea what you’re talking about. I was just thinking, if he hasn’t been on a date in a while.. Why not make it memorable for him?”

You laughed together, rounding the sidewalk to the front entrance of the theater where the glamorous marquee shined gentle daylight upon the darkened street. Romantic and intimate, with a crowd of people standing in vague suggestions of lines; some broken off, gossiping, smoking.

“There they are,” Robin whispered, letting go of your upper arm to wave at Nancy–who you had met at the grocery store last week. She saw you approaching, and tapped her hand on the chest of the man beside her.

Still a considerable distance away, you peered at him, and placed his luscious hair in your memory. “Oh, that’s the guy who came to the shop today.”

“Steve?”

“Yeah, he was talking to the annoying mechanic I’m always telling you about.”

“The one you have a crush on?”

“Shush,” you bristled at the mention of your not-so-secret. “I do not have a crush on Eddie. Anyway! Did I tell you what he did this morning? He fuckin’ stood outside the window next to my desk, just out of my view for like, full on minutes, waiting for me to look at him. Like Michael Myers or some shit. Scared me half to death.”

Robin, still caught on one detail you had somehow failed to mention in the month you worked at the auto body shop, quietly asked, “..Eddie?”

“Yeah, my coworker,” you answered, not looking at her when she fell a step behind, since you were too focused on greeting Nancy, and introducing yourself to Steve to notice her sudden jog up behind you. Too fixated on complimenting Nancy’s skirt to witness the way Steve aimed his confused frown just past your shoulder. Missed his dismissive hand gestures, and Robin’s panic as she tried to wordlessly communicate something dire to him.

You were too busy listening to the cars cruise by on the street, and chatting casually, and savoring the warmth of a new friendship to scrutinize the sound of quick footsteps from the other direction, or the jangle of metal chains attached to their presence, or Robin’s damning groan.

“Sorry, I’m–” a familiar voice said. A bit nasally and on the higher side. Mirthful, awake with youth, and excited to make a good first impression.

You turned to them. Your date.

“..Late,” they trailed off.

Deer in headlights. Big, brown doe-eyes wide with surprise, framed by beautiful black lashes.

He stared at you.

His stomach sank.

You stared at him.

Your heart raced.

Eddie had stopped mid-step with his hand raised in greeting. The chains on his leather jacket tinkered until they stilled. Kind smile frozen from a better time. Chest filled with a held breath. Presenting himself with his best foot forward, and now his ears were tinted with the embarrassment of trying too hard to impress.

Oh, God.

You blinked away, and were intentional to accept the situation for what it was without showing your surprise, opting for a simple, timid, awkward, shaky, exhaled, “Hey, Eddie.”

He wasn’t so poised.

Shutting his eyes, he allowed the realization to wash over him, scrunching his face in a pained expression as the puzzle pieces slotted into place. He hung his head, and released his breath through his nose. “Your roommate is Robin,” he stated, pointing at her to punctuate his sentence. “And you call her Bobbie.”

“Yeah..” It was an apology as much as it was a confirmation.

“You still call me Bobbie?” Robin asked, tugging on your sleeve, forgetting the tense air surrounding the group for the moment. “I haven’t used that stage name in years.”

“Guess it stuck with me..”

Thankfully, someone else added to the conversation. Unfortunately, that person was Steve addressing the elephant outside the ticket booth.

“So, I take it you two know each other,” he deduced, looking from Eddie’s dejected gaze at the ground, to you wringing your purse strap over your chest.

Eddie enlightened him in a solemn tone, sparing a single glance at his friend, “She’s the receptionist at work.”

“Ah.” He turned his attention to Robin. “You set up two people who work together.”

She threw her hands up and blamed him, “Uh! No way, dunce, don’t put this on me. This whole thing was your idea, and at no point in the conversation did you tell me Eddie was a mechanic! If you had told me he was a mechanic I probably could’ve put two-and-two together myself, and avoided setting up people who see each other every day.”

Increasingly red-faced, Steve very pointedly avoided Eddie’s suspicious squint after being outed as the one who set up the date, not Nancy. “You’re the one who lives with her, how could you not–?”

“Okay!” You clapped once to end their bickering. “Then it’s not a date.”

Nancy, bless her, picked up her improv skills fast. “Yeah! Not a date. Just a casual outing between friends. Steve, get the tickets ready so we can get popcorn before the line gets too long.” There was a ripple of unanimous murmurs, followed by shuffling to the entrance.

“Silver lining,” Nancy muttered out the side of her mouth to Steve, “It’s a movie date, so it’s not like they have to talk to, or look at each other.”

Steve tempered his laugh to a hiss and held the door for Robin, who in turn kept the it ajar behind her for you, but as you went to catch it, it was opened for you.

Clack- clack- clack. You’d heard the sound every morning; his distinct rings on the metal frame of the glass door beside your desk, followed by his soft grunt when pulling it open. But whereas his whispered ‘morning’ normally echoed in the tiled lobby, it was now on the back of your neck, fanning your skin, and it wasn’t a sweet greeting, but a reserved, solemn, regretful, sad, “Sorry for.. yeah.” That’s how he started your date that wasn’t a date. With an apology. And still, as the crisp autumn air was replaced by the humid waft of buttery popcorn, your brain was stuck at the garage, filling in the drag of his heavy work boots on the way to the breakroom for coffee, and the lingering scent of cigarette smoke trailing his stride.

Except, as you were jolted back to reality, you came to know he didn’t present himself so generically outside the context of motor oil. Due to the traffic clogging around the ticket ripper, Eddie ran into you and you discovered the nuances of what he smelled like when not at work, with the added intimacy of his chest pressed to your back.

Worn leather enveloped by notes of vanilla musk cologne. Spicy deodorant carried by the sweet earthy tang of tobacco. Dove White on his heated skin, and Dawn on his hands.

A symphony you could immerse yourself in learning for hours if it wasn’t for the crime of your group moving forward.

“Did you want anything?” Eddie asked you, pointing at the concessions.

“Oh, no, I’m good.” You made a clawing gesture at your mouth. “Eating popcorn before the movie even starts because I have no self control and then being forced to sit there with kernels in my teeth drives me nuts.”

Not finding you as endearing as you intended, he slipped his hands into his pockets, and motioned for both of you to stand off to the side, out of the way while you waited for the others to get their snacks. And he just stood there. Not saying anything. You were turned to him as if to carry a conversation, but his gaze was set ahead; not on anything in particular, just away from you.

Rarely had his face been this slack, this devoid of emotion. Even when doing menial work like filling out invoices for parts you would need to order, there was activity. Liveliness in the tic of his eyes reading lines on the paper. Movement of his tongue sliding across his top lip. A subtle crease between his brows. Something. Anything.

You spoke above the giggly teenagers sneaking into the film next door, “For a stick in the mud, you look nice.” He really did, in his well-loved jacket draping his frame after years of being broken in to perfection. Tight black jeans. Sensible boots. More accessories than just his rings.

Try as he might to cut you an unamused look, his freshly washed hair bounced in immaculate waves around his face, catching the low mood lighting like a messy halo.

“Thanks,” he said, not meaning it.

“I can see why you don’t get many dates if you always look this miserable.”

“I’m not miserable.”

“Glum, then? Woebegone? Hapless? Crestfallen?” When he seemed hellbent on wishing he were anywhere else, you eased up on your act. Harboring the pit of rejection eating away at your stomach, you pried, “Disappointed?”

The glimpse of vulnerability in your words was not lost on him.

He snapped to, shaking himself out of his funk to reassure you in his gentle timbre amongst the chaos of someone beating the top score on the pinball machine, “I’m not disappointed to be here with you.”

“Then what are you?”

“Sorry,” he guessed, shrugging. He was the type to speak with his hands, moving them despite being confined to his pockets. “I’m sorry our friends suck at communicating and this is how your night turned out; you being here with me when you were clearly expecting someone else.” His gaze didn’t dare dip lower than your nose, but the effort you put into your appearance did not go unnoticed. It wasn't the first time he stared a little too directly into your eyes after you decided to stop covering yourself up.

“I don’t go on dates intending to find my one true love or anything lame like that,” you said, honestly. “I go on them to have fun, and I think we can still have fun, even if we have to share the same tiny lunch table come Monday, and we side-eye Carl for bringing tuna again.” He almost smiled at that.

Sensing he needed another boost of confidence, you kept going, “Before I knew it was you, Robin was talking you up in the car. Going on about how my date was some sweet guy, super handsome, and with a heart of gold. You know, the Prince Charming type. Oh, and totally obnoxious too. Real loudmouth who never shuts up.”

Okay, maybe some of that was ad libbed, but you wanted to know how much of it was true.

Eddie shifted from foot to foot, subduing his grin by biting his tongue, literally. “That’s a pretty apt way to describe me back in high school, yeah, especially with how I’m dressed.”

“What changed?”

“Uh, I had a kid,” he laughed. “She stole all my charm. I swear Adrie can talk me into anything.”

“I think you’re just a pushover.”

“Probably,” he surrendered. Raising his brows, he mused aloud one of the many things on his mind, “Do you not agree that she described me accurately? Sweet Prince Charming guy, all that?”

There was no way in hell you were going to speak your truth. Instead, you smirked. “I don’t think you want to know what adjectives I’d use to describe you.” They were far too vulgar to utter in a crowded room. Hot in the most annoying way. Absolute pain in my ass. Just the worst, especially when I don’t hear you sneak up behind me in the kitchen, and you think it’s funny to scare me right as I open my drink from the Coke machine, and you laugh your stupid laugh when I drop it. An absolute eye-sore when you look up at me while you're on your hands and knees cleaning up the mess you created. Irritatingly handsome when you grin and buy me another one.

Ignorant to your private thoughts, he swung his elbow out to push you, and smiled.

Relaxing into the natural lull in conversation, you both watched your friends make it to the front of the line and order their food. They waited at the counter, starting the clock on when they would inevitably make it back to the two of you, and cease your alone time with Eddie. (Although, first, they’d have to traverse an entire bucket of dropped popcorn, and navigate around more than one group of children reenacting a fight scene they just watched on the big screen.)

“Were you disappointed I was your date?” you asked.

Robin was right. Eddie was a sweetheart. As soon as he detected an inkling of insecurity–whether it be in your strained voice, or etched into your face, or imbued in the question itself–he was quick to absolve your worry.

“No, no,” he said. “Relieved, if I’m being honest.”

“Relieved?” You weren’t expecting that.

“There’s a reason I haven’t dated since having Adrie. It didn’t sound like Steve made it clear to.. you, well, my anonymous date which happened to be you. Jesus, this is confusing. Whatever, you know what I mean, he didn’t say if he told my would-be date that I’m a dad, and I was afraid of coming here and having to tell them myself. Even if we hit it off, it’s a deal breaker for some people, y’know? Not that I blame them. I would’ve said the same thing five years ago.”

You nodded as you listened to him. “Never thought about it from that perspective. All my dates have been one-and-dones. Super casual. Kids were never really brought up.”

“Yeah, the dating world isn’t always so gracious. I’m kinda glad I’m here with you–someone who knows me, at least.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you spied Steve raising his sodas above his head as two boys ran past him, pretending they were in a shootout.

Knowing he wouldn’t have time to respond, you informed Eddie, “You’re worrying about the wrong thing. Adrie’s an angel. You should be more concerned about your curmudgeonly attitude being a deal breaker.” His narrowed-eye glare had never felt so sweet.

Robin’s giddy presence became known. She dropped her chin to your shoulder with a satisfied hum, and wrapped her arm around your waist to hug you snug to her body. You laid your head on top of hers, swaying with her.

She must’ve made a face at Eddie, because a different emotion flinched across his features, and he was back to avoiding making eye contact.

You, however, were more enticed by the drink in her hand than analyzing his change in demeanor. “Shit, now I want an Icee.”

“Yeah, I got cherry,” she said, angling the straw towards you. “They have Coke too–Okay, bye, dork,” she giggled after you.

“Go ahead and sit without me! I want an Icee.” Nancy clutched the largest size of popcorn to her chest to avoid spilling it as you stumbled out of Robin’s hold and darted for the concession stand.

Eddie raised his voice, “You couldn’t have decided that five minutes ago when I asked?”

“Nope!”

————

The theater for the low budget horror flick reflected the town’s perception of it. As soon as the heavy door closed behind you, your footsteps on the dense carpet echoed around the empty room. Your group was sitting in the back row, and their murmurs could be heard from the bottom.

You climbed up to them and flumped into the seat next to Eddie. “We can share,” you said excitedly, shaking the drink at him before placing it in the cupholder at the end of the single armrest.

When the subtle pinch of concern around his eyes remained, you promised him you didn’t have cooties.

He played with his rings, pulling them down the length of his fingers and spinning them while he worked through his confusion. “You don’t have to sit next to me.. You can sit next to Robin.” He motioned beside him, to Steve munching on his popcorn while Nancy held it, and Robin whispering on the end, rolling her eyes at something Nancy said.

“Why wouldn’t I sit next to you?”

Eddie’s mouth opened and closed, struggling to settle on what he wanted to say, and finishing with a submissive shrug, leather jacket groaning at the act. He bounced his foot quicker, shaking the aglets on his laces against his boot in a chaotic rhythm. “Dunno..”

“You’re silly. I’d pinch your cheek if I didn’t think you’d bite me.” He reeled at that, and you giggled. You didn’t mind making him balk at your weird quirks; whatever put him at ease. Rather, whatever made him stop rubbing his knee against yours, because you were certain the friction was about to cause a fire.

Digging through your purse, you took out a rectangular box and slid your finger under the flap, popping it open and dumping a handful of candy into your palm. You threw it back into your mouth. “Want sh-ome?” you chewed, offering the box to him.

“Who the hell eats Mike and Ikes?”

“Uh, me, jerk.” Right as the lights dimmed to pitch black, and the curtains drew back from the screen, you hit him with the most exaggerated pout. “I only eat them at the movies. They’re a ritual, and you’re rude.” The shadows lining his face twisted into a deeper grin. “Are you more of a chocolate guy?”

“Maybe,” he answered like he was suspicious of your motives.

And maybe he should be. Afterall, you committed the number one sin when it came to cinemas.

“Looks like I chose right,” you said, reaching into your purse and pulling out a Kit Kat. “I was hoping my date would be a chocolate sorta guy–” You went quiet seeing his eyes widen a touch. “I mean, not date. Begrudging coworker? Tentative acquaintance?”

“Reluctant friend,” he answered smoothly, taking the package from you and ripping it open with his teeth.

~~~

Trailers for other films played, bathing the room in flickers of light interrupting the darkness. The opening credits began. Your candy was half-eaten. His was devoured. You took a sip of your Icee, and from the vantage point of pressing your back into the cheap theater seat, you observed him in your periphery.

His gaze hardly left the drink. Your offer to share it gnawed at him in a visible way. Scoping out the straw, the possible trace of spit you left behind, the possible trace of spit he’d leave behind. He peered at the screen to acknowledge the intro, and then back down it was, boring holes into the Icee.

You were no better, nibbling at your lips when he finally caved and took a sip–all too quick, and clumsy, almost missing the cup holder when he put it back down with lightning speed.

The edge of your thighs touched under the arm rest; worse so, when you folded one leg under you, and leaned into him. “Do you hate it when people talk during movies?”

“Not these kind.” He meant the genre in general, which made for great fodder for ripping apart in friend groups, but another popular trope among this realm of fiction became apparent. The first set of tits flashed on screen, and you both found yourselves lacking in the commentary department.

After a moment, you tilted your head. “That actress looks familiar..”

“She’s been in other cult classics. Always acts with her eyebrows.” He turned to you and nudged your shoulder, vying for your full attention. He emphasized the end of each word with an inflection as if it were a question, and raised his eyebrows in every way possible, mocking her slowly, “She’s the one who always talks like this–!” He looked crazy contorting his face to make his point.

“That’s it!” You snapped. “Her wearing glasses really threw me off.”

“Mhm.” His hum vibrated along your upper arm pressed to his, and he asked quietly under the screams of the first gorey death, “Do you like B movies?”

“Hell yeah. Back home they would play them at this rooftop drive in place. I rarely paid to watch them, though. The next building over had a good view of the projector screen.”

His banter dropped in favor of chewing on the corner of his thumb. If it wasn’t for the wild change in scenery cast across his face, you could’ve sworn his faint smile faltered into inscrutability.

Did you say something wrong?

————

“Damn, that was a cool practical effect,” Eddie complimented the purplish fizzing ooze that once was a person.

“I know, right? That’s why I love these bad movies. There’s no budget for good CGI, so they have to do creative stuff like that.”

It was inevitable. Bound to happen. A mere act of fate. Stars aligning in the close knit group leaning forward to exchange witty quips about the hare-brained plot holes in the movie, and not minding their surroundings except to receive everyone’s laughter, making jokes at the expense of the bad acting.

Steve was asking a question that was technically answered by the movie’s lore if he’d paid attention to the dialogue during the second gratuitous stripping scene. You or Eddie could have answered, but Robin took it upon herself to explain, and you two nodded along.

Absentminded, you reached for the Icee.

Distracted, Eddie reached for the Icee.

The waxed paper cup was cold under your fingers, but your hand was blanketed by warmth.

Slow to process, you both glanced down at the reason why neither of you were achieving your goal, and the overload of sensory inputs faded away to one: touch.

Your thumb was trapped under his palm, and his fingers stretched around the cup, meeting yours on the other side and housing them beneath his in a steady amount of pressure. They were almost interlocking. Holding. Wrist on top of wrist–his with the extra harshness of his leather and chain bracelet on your skin. The heaviness of his forearm resting on yours.

Truly, the accident lasted all of two pumps of your heart, but it felt like more when he stroked his calloused fingertips over your knuckles as he let go.

“Sorry!” he blurted.

“S-Sorry,” you laughed, jittery from the encounter.

Your cheeks were hot. His were flushed red. The lewd moaning of a woman feigning to orgasm just from the male lead removing her bra alone played in the background. Neither of you could decide which plan of escape was less embarrassing: continuing to stare like idiots at each other, or watch the actress’ ginormous boobs bounce as she faked riding a guy.

You blinked. His eyebrows ticced up.

Boobs it was.

He adjusted how he sat, tugging his jeans down his legs a little, and crossing his arms. Eyes laser focused on the woman’s face. The why was obvious, and you couldn’t help but tease him for pretending to be a gentleman in your company when you held no such modesty when it came to ogling her tits.

“Thinking about how much Aquanet she uses?”

“Shut up.”

————

Later into the film, after the plot circled back to the juicy gore, you leaned into Eddie to ask him a question.

What that question was, you couldn’t remember.

As soon as you placed your elbow on the armrest and used the back of your hand to tap his shoulder, he dipped his head to hear you. It was an automatic thing starting from the moment you slouched in your seat. That’s all. A shift in your sitting position and intake of breath, and he knew you were going to speak, and he wanted to listen. He cared about what you had to say. He leaned into you as well, because listening to you took priority over the movie.

“Eddie?” You sought any words. Any words at all. Any would do. Any question, even if you knew the answer. “Uhm. The music sounds really familiar. Do you recognize it?”

“It’s the same composer as Chopping Mall and Deathstalker II.”

“Ah.”

Ah. All you could muster when you were charmed by the silhouette of his lips moving. Watching them form letters, pout on the plosives, press into a line on his thick swallow.

Ah. All you could say when his hair brushed over your fingers. Dry, in need of a deep conditioning. Curling around your forefinger. Tickling your palm.

Ah. All you could respond with when you lifted your gaze, and caught him staring at you like you stared at him.

————

As predicted, the filmmakers padded the runtime with another topless scene, and the movie ended on a witty one liner that included not one, but two puns, and no resolution to the numerous plot threads left hanging.

“That was.. certainly something!” Robin summed up, holding the doors open to the subdued hours of the night.

Once outside in the fresh air, the dynamic reverted back to its original status.

Your friends made themselves scarce in the worst way; whistling, shuffling to the side as they found asinine things to comment on, leaving you and Eddie alone. Their intentions were pure, but reality was not so kind.

Eddie cemented his gaze on the sidewalk as he picked at his callouses, and apologized for the mistake of going out with you. Again. “Sorry about all this.”

Itchy sweat broke out across your back. It sucked he was so brazen about rejecting you. You had  hoped some of the tender crush you had on him extended past the armrest you shared, the looks you shared, the touches you shared; but maybe you were just tricking yourself into finding things that weren’t there.

Wanting to end on a better note, you appealed to him in a last ditch effort to smooth over the situation, “I meant it when I said you looked good tonight. It’s nice to see you outside of your work clothes.”

“Thanks.”

That’s all. Thanks. A shy glance from beneath his curtain of messy hair, and a somber tone to maximize the awkwardness of the not-date with your coworker.

You needed to get the hell out of there. “See you Monday?”

“Yeah, see you Monday.”

The group winced in unison when they saw the way you two departed.

Robin was quick to link her arm with yours and gather you closer, bringing your heads together to gossip as you walked back to her car. “That bad, huh?”

Around the corner and out of sight, you gave her half a smile, trying to appear in better spirits. “Well, I don’t think he likes me. He didn’t return any of my compliments, and he apologized for being on a date with me no less than four times over the course of the evening.”

She cringed for you. “That’s worse than Balloon Guy, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” you said, remembering what would go down in history as the shittiest date you’d been on. “Yeah, that’s more times than Balloon Guy.” Robin hugged you tighter, making your steps go clumsy. She apologized for Eddie’s weirdness, but you shrugged. Maybe you were supposed to find it weird, too. Maybe you were supposed to disapprove of the idea of romantic feelings for your coworker, too. Maybe you were supposed to have no expectations for it to lead anywhere, too.

Maybe you were supposed to reject him, too.

————

Still loitering outside the theater, Steve exchanged a look with Nancy, and jogged to catch up with Eddie before he made it too far in the opposite direction.

“Uh, hey buddy!” Steve clapped him on the shoulder to stop him. “It sounded like you two were hitting it off during the movie, what happened?”

Eddie sulked under the question. His chest fell with a surrendering sigh, and his boots scraped the concrete as he turned to him, not bothering to mask the dullness in his slack expression. Everything about him was tired, including his voice when he slipped into a lower, raspy octave. “She’s nice, but..”

“But what?” Nancy asked, searching his face.

Bottling his burdens, he clenched his teeth, and worked his jaw as he contemplated evading their insistent prying; but after ruminating on it, he explained the source of his problems, “She lives a very.. whimsy life.” He fluttered his hand like a bird flapping its wings, or a butterfly. “She does this thing where she says ‘yes’ to anything anyone asks her; it’s why she moved to Hawkins, and why she ended up on this date to begin with. Y’know, just doing whatever seems like fun. It’s cute, in a way, and obviously I.. feel a way towards her, but this place isn’t where she’s looking to lay down roots. New York is her home.”

Steve squeezed his shoulder, knowing what was about to come.

“I’ve already been left for someone better.. I can’t go through that again.” Eddie’s eyes begged them to understand. “I don’t want Adrie to get attached to someone who’s just gonna leave.”

Nancy started, “Eddie–You don’t know if she’d leave.”

He shook his head, and pulled away from Steve’s lingering grasp. Shushed his friend’s well-meaning words about him being valued, and to forget his insecurities about not being good enough.

“A girl like that doesn’t need me weighing her down,” Eddie said, imparting the wisdom he’d come to accept since you made a mark on his life weeks ago, when it became your mission to befriend him. “I’ll pick up Adrie in the morning. Thanks for watching her.”

The night got darker as he left.

Darker still, when Steve waved at his back, and Nancy played with the locket around her neck, and her goodbye went disregarded.

————

Silence.

It surrounded him. Blood pulsing in his ears, his heart beat, the refrigerator hum, the tink of glass bottles as he grabbed the full six pack and brought it to the couch, springs squeaking under his weight.

Utter emptiness welcomed him.

Not a sound in his home. Not a giggle from his daughter, or scrape of a skillet from Wayne’s makeshift breakfast-dinner before he went to work. Even the dogs around the trailer park were quiet.

Just.. nothing.

It was what he wanted, right? A night to himself; a break from the chores, the questions, the food making, the taking care of a tiny human being who made everything tougher than it needed to be.

He got his wish.

Two beers down in peace, he got his wish.

Eddie looked around his trailer lit by the single lamp beside him.

Quiet, empty, nothing.

Dark silence.

The jolt of his sob startled him. It erupted from his chest so suddenly. Ripped from the tightness of repressed emotions; the things he tried to deny, to feel and then lock away. To keep safe, buried down deep where he could manage them from progressing past the boundaries he created for his own good, and Adrie’s. He felt the agony of them all at once. The morning smiles, the afternoon laughs, the evenings of pretending you didn’t plan to bump into each other in the doorway to the lobby. The game of seeing how long he could watch you twirl the phone cord around your finger before you looked up from your desk. Your sweet way of comforting him after the hard nights of Adrie’s sleep regression by taking his tan work jacket and draping it over his shoulders while he slept at the lunch table in the break room. Your gentle method of fixing his collar when it was tucked on the inside of his coveralls.

The date was too good to be true.

In fact, the truth itself was far more painful.

The date was amazing. He couldn’t remember a time in his life when he had more fun. More thrills, sure. But not more fun. There wasn’t a day in his youth where he experienced more of the flirty thrum in his veins than when he committed himself to learning the way your lips moved when saying his name in the darkened theater.

The date was perfect. He was happy. And he couldn’t have it again. Shouldn’t have it again. Wouldn’t have these feelings again.

Eddie doubled over and put his third beer on the floor before he spilled it. Nothing was discernible beyond the water invading his ability to see, to fathom his reflection in the old TV. Sad, miserable, and lonely. An idiot for finally getting attached to someone, and it was someone he wasn’t supposed to.

Tears slipped from between his lashes. He smeared them on his cheeks, covering his sweaty face from his possessions bearing witness to his stupidity.

It was in his best interest to reject you–reject your casual stance on dating, and relationships, and people with kids–but the face you made when your advances went underappreciated churned his stomach.

He needed to be stronger. But he was weak.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he sighed into the stale air. Opening another beer, he nursed it as he huddled into the corner of the couch, and searched for Adrie’s quilt to soothe him. But of course, he sent it with her when he dropped her off at Steve’s.

No baby blanket to hold onto. No Adrienne to sleep on his chest to ease the pain of loneliness. No reason to look forward to Monday after he royally screwed everything up.

“Goddamnit,” he groaned.

Maybe, if he apologized enough, there was a chance you wouldn’t hate him.

Maybe, if you forgave him, you’d go back to the morning smiles, and the afternoon laughs.

And maybe, if he was enough of a masochist, he’d let you gently ease past those boundaries meant to keep you, and your kindness out. If you wanted to trespass, that is. He didn’t know. He was an idiot.

[supernovafics]

𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 (𝟐)

PART ONE | PART TWO

pairing: singledad!steve harrington x divorcedmom!fem!reader

word count: 15.9k words

summary: in which you hate him and he hates you— and that mutual disliking is perhaps the only thing you and him manage to agree on. you make it your mission to avoid and ignore steve at all costs, and nothing more or less than withering stares and annoyed eye rolls are shared among you both whenever you have to see each other, which luckily isn’t that often. but when your son and his daughter end up in the same first-grade class and quickly become friends, it forces things to change between you two. it means that you and him also have to be friends, or, at the very least, tolerate each other’s presence. which is something that is much easier said than done

warnings: modern!au, enemies (to friends) to lovers, steve and reader are in their late 20s/early 30s, bestfriend!eddie, mentions of cheating/an affair (reader’s ex was an absolute asshole), mentions of trust/abandonment issues, some angst, platonic fluff (at first), smut (18+)

author's note: the second and final part! not much to say except enjoy enjoy and happy (almost) new year🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

“Do you like Maddie’s dad?”

Hearing that abrupt question fall from Oliver’s lips confused you so much that all you could do was initially answer with a bewildered, “What?”

You were used to Oliver always asking random questions that felt as if they came out of absolutely nowhere; it was especially one of his favorite things to do during any sort of car ride, and this Saturday morning drive to the soccer field for practice was apparently no different. But, you fully did not expect to hear that question from him. 

“Are you guys, like, boyfriend-girlfriend?” He asked, and that follow-up question further confused you, or maybe it more so startled you.

“No… No, we’re not,” You answered and glanced at him sitting in the backseat through the rearview mirror. He was dressed in his dark green soccer uniform, wearing everything except for the cleats because he liked to put them on right before he ran out onto the field with the other kids. “What made you think that?” 

“I don’t know…” You could practically hear him shrug. “But, I think it would be cool if you guys were. Maddie thinks so too.”

You weren’t entirely sure what to say to that. “Oh, okay… But, I don’t think that will happen, bud. We’re friends. Just like you and Maddie.”

“Okay.”

It suddenly felt like perfect timing that you were pulling into the gravelly parking lot next to the soccer field. You helped Olly put on and tie up his cleats before he ran over to Maddie and the other kids already on the field. You grabbed the two coffees that were sitting in the cupholder and then headed to the silver metal bleachers, immediately spotting Steve among the other parents.

He gave you a quick wave and smile and you only nodded and smiled back at him since your hands were full and you couldn’t match his wave. It still felt the tiniest bit insane to you that what you had said to Oliver in the car wasn’t a complete lie; you and Steve were in fact friends, and had been for the past month. 

Just days after you two had the moment in your kitchen where the “enemies” hatchet was finally buried, he and Maddie came to the coffee shop sometime in the afternoon. For the first time ever, you didn’t feel like you needed to pretend to be nice to him. Instead, you found yourself actually wanting to be nice and you were glad about this surprise playdate. And that was when you knew that you two were friends, or at the very least, quickly getting there.

He and Maddie stayed for hours. With Maddie and Oliver sitting and playing games in a two-person booth, and Steve standing with you at the front counter. You two talked about random things— the kinds of things that you had a feeling you both would’ve learned about each other during your first-ever conversation if you two had actually been nice to one another— and then you let him try a new drink recipe that you had been playing around with because he was interested, and that became a sort of routine.

“Hi. Morning. Here.” You handed him one of the cups in your hand before taking your spot next to him in the middle row of the bleachers. “It’s another new thing I’m thinking about adding to the menu for the rest of Fall and maybe Winter too. Tell me your thoughts.”

He took a sip of the drink and then nodded. “This is good. Not as insanely sweet as the last thing you made me try.”

“Okay, I know you hated that latte that I gave you last week, but it’s actually been a big hit so far,” You told him. The sweet drink quickly became popular among the high schoolers that would frequent the coffee shop, and you were glad that you listened to Jude— one of your employees who was also a part of that younger demographic— and put it on the menu. “Oh, also, I think you and I might be getting parent trapped soon.”

“Should I be scared?” Steve asked, looking at you with a confused expression.

You stopped mid-sip of your drink. “Wait, have you not seen The Parent Trap?”

He shook his head. “No.”

“Jesus, wow, you need to watch that movie, it’s a classic,” You told him, the shock you felt was evident in your tone. “Anyway, though, what I mean is that I think Olly and Maddie are gonna try to get us together. He mentioned in the car ride over here that they both think it would be cool if we started dating.” 

“Oh.”

“I already told him that that wouldn’t happen and we’re just friends, so hopefully that idea will blow over soon,” You said to Steve and then took a long sip from your drink. 

“Knowing our kids, I kinda doubt that will happen,” He responded, and you actually couldn’t help but agree with him. The way Maddie and Olly had managed to convince you and Steve about the playdate thing after a week’s worth of pestering proved that they wouldn’t let go of anything easily. Thinking about it now, you kinda admired how persistent they had been during then.

“Well, in that case, it’s good that they don’t look alike so they can’t try to switch places. But, we need to make sure that we stay away from boats and camping trips.”

Another confused expression crossed Steve’s face. “I really think I need to watch that movie.” 

“Yes, you do,” You said with a nod as you met his eyes. “As my friend, you need to promise me that you will watch that 1998 classic.”

He laughed a bit. “I promise.”

You turned your attention back to the soccer field and shook your head. “I never thought I’d say that.”

“What?”

“That we’re friends,” You said, looking at him again. “But, it’s nice, though.”

Steve nodded at that and gave you a small smile. “Yeah, it is.”   

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

Over the past year, you’d come to savor anytime after 9pm. It was the only time of the day, well night, that you were able to have complete peace— no worrying about Oliver because he was asleep, and no worrying about the coffee shop because it was closed. 

On this particular night, long after Olly’s soccer practice and time spent at the coffee shop, you were in your bathroom, washing your face and putting on pajamas; which simply consisted of a random oversized t-shirt and shorts. You decided that you’d curl up in bed and spend the rest of your night watching a shitty reality show because it somehow always felt nice watching other people’s drama. 

Right as you were slipping on your t-shirt, your phone started ringing on the counter, which stopped the music that you had been playing from it, and you looked down to see that it was Steve FaceTiming you. 

This had happened a handful of times over the past month— him calling you, you calling him. It was usually to get quick answers to questions that either of you two had, but sometimes it was also just to talk about random things whenever a simple text didn’t feel like it would suffice. 

“Hi,” You said as you turned off the bathroom light and shut the door before heading to your bed. “Great timing. Oliver went to sleep about fifteen minutes ago.”

You noticed that Steve was also sitting in bed. He pushed a quick hand through his hair as he spoke. “I learned that if I’m gonna call, I should only do it after nine now.”

The last time he FaceTimed you, Oliver had been sitting next to you on the couch. When he heard Steve’s voice, he immediately asked him where Maddie was, and then she heard Olly’s voice from where she was playing in the living room. Barely a second later, your phones were immediately taken by the kids and they talked for an hour. 

“Great thinking,” You told him with a small approving nod. “I hope that whatever you called to talk about is good because I was just about to watch a very riveting reality show about these housewives taking a trip around Europe.”

“Wow, that sounds very fun,” Steve said, and you could hear the sarcasm in his voice.

“Mhm, it will be. I can’t wait until they get to Paris. According to the trailer, some huge argument is gonna happen when they’re at the Arc de Triomphe,” You responded, matching his sarcastic tone.

“Now, I’m really intrigued,” He joked. “Anyway, though, I called to tell you that I just finished watching The Parent Trap.”

You smiled at that. “I’m glad you did your homework early. Did you like it?”

“It was actually pretty good. Maddie watched some of it with me too, but she fell asleep not even halfway through.”

“She’s too young to understand the cultural importance of The Parent Trap just yet. She’ll come around soon.”

“Also, right after practice, she mentioned the dating thing to me. She said that she and Olly think it would be nice if you and me got together.” 

You let out a small sigh. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Steve nodded. “She was very persistent too; asked if I thought you were pretty, and said that I should bring you flowers the next time I see you. Apparently, Oliver told her that your favorite ones are daisies, so I should make sure to get those for you.”

Your eyes widened a bit at his words. If you weren’t so shocked, you were almost certain that you would’ve laughed at how much thought your kids were putting into this whole idea. “Oh, wow, they’re relentless.”

“Are daisies actually your favorite?”

“Yeah,” You answered and then sighed again. You weren’t even entirely sure how Oliver knew that. When you two first moved into your house in Hawkins, you would buy fresh daisies every week in an attempt to make the place feel like a home because you barely had any furniture just yet and there weren’t that many decorations up either. But you couldn’t remember the last time you bought any flowers for the place.

Steve let out an amused sound. “Wow, yeah, Maddie and Olly are good.” 

You dating someone was the farthest thing from your mind, but it surprised you that it was the main thing on Oliver’s. You thought that you’d have a longer time before you’d have to worry about that; before you’d have to think about him really wanting some sort of “dad” or “father figure” in his life. Eddie was the closest thing, but Oliver didn’t see him as often anymore since his California move. 

You thought that the little family that you and Olly had, just the two of you, was enough— more than enough, even. 

“I didn’t think that this would happen this soon,” Steve said, pulling you out of your thoughts. “It’s only been a year since her mom left, so I really didn’t think that she’d want me to start dating, get married, whatever, whatever, anytime soon. And I’m too busy to even think about trying to look for someone.”

You agreed with him completely. And then there was also the fact that you simply didn’t want to date anytime soon. You despised the thought of finally having to start over; even though you knew that eventually one day you would. Maybe. 

As cynical and depressing as it sounded, you couldn’t really imagine it happening for you again— falling in love or just simply falling, deeply liking someone. And a part of you would just rather wholly avoid the possibility at all costs. 

You knew that how things ended with Oliver’s dad was not your fault at all, but that didn’t change the fact that you still felt stupid about everything; for being so blind to the affair and for believing his lies for as long as you did. And the thought of all of that potentially happening again— loving and trusting someone just to have them break your heart and fuck you over in one of the worst ways possible— terrified you. 

You could’ve said all of that to Steve, but you felt like that would’ve been way too long-winded and melancholic, so you decided to just simply nod instead. “I don’t know if we should just get used to them trying to get us together, or talk to them and say that us being anything more than friends is never gonna happen.” 

“If it becomes too much we probably should talk to them,” Steve said, and that made sense to you. “But now I’m glad Maddie fell asleep halfway through the movie because it probably would’ve just given her ideas.”

“Have you seen Freaky Friday?”

“No. Is that another movie that can relate to the situation we’re in right now?” 

“No, it’s just a really good movie. Another Lindsay Lohan classic,” You briefly explained. “You should watch it.”

Steve was quiet for a moment, as if he was really thinking about whatever he was about to say. “How about right now?” 

You laughed a bit before mock gasping at his question. “You trying to get me off the phone, Steven?”

He smiled at your fake offended look. “No, I meant that we could watch it right now. Together over the phone.”

“Oh,” You said, trying to hide your surprise at the suggestion. Watching a movie together was technically a friendly thing to do, but it did feel the tiniest bit intimate; like the two of you were crossing into a slightly altered territory of what your friendship was. That still didn’t make the idea necessarily sound bad to you, though. It sounded fun, a better way to spend the rest of your Saturday night than what you had originally planned on doing. “Okay, yeah let’s watch it. I guess I’ll just have to watch the housewives go to Europe at a different time.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

“How’s it going so far?” Was the first thing you heard Eddie say when the call connected, and you couldn’t help but smile into your phone at how excited he sounded. It made you happy that you impulsively decided to call him when you stepped into the back room of your coffee shop; the kitchen area that felt equivalent to a second home for you. “It’s great, right?”

You nodded even though he couldn’t see you. “Yeah, it’s been really good, honestly.”

The “it” that you both were referring to was the open mic night event happening at the coffee shop right then. Eddie had been the one to suggest the idea nearly a year ago, around the time when the shop finally opened.  

“It would make so much sense,” Was the beginning of his spiel. “This place is the perfect size to set up mic stands and speakers in the front by the window. Pretty much any sort of ‘starving artist’ would love to have a space where they can perform, and most people enjoy live music, so doing this will bring in a ton of business.”

You loved the idea and you agreed with Eddie’s points completely, but then he moved to California and it didn’t feel right to do the idea without him. But, he said that he wouldn’t let you not do it. Because no other place in the small town was doing something like this— and that very valid statement was the reason why tonight was already such a success. A part of you wished that you had done the event sooner, instead of continuously putting it off for months and months. 

The setup of it was simple— anyone with any sort of “talent” that they wanted to share was welcome to perform, and after a particularly awkward magician, the majority of the performances were musical, and almost everyone that decided to go up and sing or play something so far were pretty good. You had even teared up at a brother-sister duo that performed a self-written instrumental piece on the guitar and violin. 

“I would say an ‘I told you so,’ but I love you too much to be that much of an asshole right now.”

“Yeah, and another reason why you shouldn’t say any kind of ‘I told you so’ right now is because I’m still slightly mad at you for bailing at the last second and not being here tonight,” You responded, letting out a small sigh. You leaned against the metal table in the middle of the kitchen where a sheet of freshly baked cookies sat next to you. Eddie was also supposed to be sitting next to you at this moment, sneaking a cookie off the sheet, and then you getting playfully annoyed at him for doing so.

“I know, and I’m still really sorry. My publicist decided to set up something early tomorrow that I can’t get out of,” He said, re-explaining what he had already told you earlier that morning. Of course, you weren’t truly upset with him; he was doing what he loved out there in California, and you were doing what you loved right here in Hawkins. “Is Steve there yet?”

“Yeah, he got here like ten minutes ago. I’ve been so busy, though, so I haven’t gotten the chance to say much more than a quick hi to him.” 

Eddie hummed in response. “Has he fully replaced me yet?”

“Oh, shut up. Steve could never replace you, Munson,” You told him, your words a thousand percent true. “You’re more than just my best friend at this point, you’re like my fucking family. You cannot be replaced, and that also means that you can never get rid of me either, so I hope you understand what you’ve gotten yourself into.”

“I wouldn’t dream of getting rid of you,” He said, and you could practically hear the smile in his voice; you really missed him being only a ten-minute drive away.

“Thank you. I feel honored. Truly,” You said playfully.

“Oh, also, are Oliver and Madeline still trying to play matchmaker for you guys?” Eddie asked and you rolled your eyes at how amused he sounded. 

Somehow, your attempt in the car that Saturday to shut the dating idea down by telling Oliver that you and Steve were just friends, seemed to go in one ear and out the other. Olly would continuously remind you how much he liked Steve, how cool he was, and how he’d always have the best snacks whenever the kids were having a playdate at his house. Oliver even went as far as to tell you to wear more blue because that was Steve’s favorite color. 

And pretty much the same thing was happening to Steve but with Maddie. According to him, she gushed about you all of the time— perhaps actually convincing Steve to get her a fish only aided in that— and she continued to pester him about buying you flowers. 

But, their antics started calming down over the past few weeks, though, because of every gentle reminder you said to Oliver about how you and Steve were solely friends. It was way too hard to be stern about it because you hated disappointing him and you just really wanted him to be happy. But, before Steve came around, you thought that he was really happy with how things were. 

When you verbalized that thought on the phone to Eddie right then, he simply told you, “Just like you want him to be happy. He wants you to be happy too.”

“Why does he think that happiness comes from Steve?”

“Maybe he and Maddie see something that you two don’t see yet.”

You thought about his words. For a second, you wondered what the kids could possibly see that you and Steve seemed to be oblivious to. 

“Okay, and on that note, I’m gonna go. I’ve probably been gone for far too long. I told Jude that I was just going to grab the cookies that had been cooling for a few minutes and bring them out,” You told him as you took a quick glance at the mix of chocolate chip and sugar cookies again. “I’ll see you in less than a month for Christmas. Oh, and about that, you really didn’t need to buy me and Olly first-class plane tickets.”

You heard his playful scoff. “You guys are my family. Of course, I’m gonna get you first-class tickets.”

“Thank you, and this spoiling treatment is exactly why you’ll never be able to get rid of us,” You said and smiled when you heard Eddie laugh. “Anyway, I’ll talk to you soon.”  

“Bye.”

When he hung up, you slipped your phone back into the back pocket of your jeans. You grabbed the now cooled cookie sheet and exited the kitchen, going back behind the counter with Jude. Since things had somewhat simmered down compared to how lively it had been an hour and a half ago, you told her that she should finally take her break for the night and she happily accepted the offer.

Steve walked up to you as you started placing the cookies in the display case. “Hi.” 

“Hey, thanks for coming.”

“Yeah, of course, I wouldn’t miss it,” He said, and hearing how genuine his words sounded made you smile. 

“It’s probably too late for coffee, so do you want a hot chocolate?” You asked and looked at him once you finished putting the last few cookies in the case. “It’s free. Friend discount for the night.”

“Wow, that’s a really good discount,” Steve said playfully.

“I like to be very generous to the people I care about,” You told him, matching his tone and smiling. “And I don’t have that many friends, so I’m actually not losing out on a lot of money.” 

He smiled back at you. “Now I feel even more honored that I’m one of them.”

You poured some hot chocolate into the blue mug that you would never admit out loud but was pretty much designated as Steve’s at this point. For some reason, you found yourself always making sure to use it for him whenever he wasn’t getting something to-go, and once you learned from Olly that Steve’s favorite color was blue, it felt even more right to use it for him. In your mind, you saw it as a small gesture that didn’t really mean too much, but maybe that wasn’t entirely true. And that was another thing that you’d never admit out loud. 

“Thank you,” He said as you handed the mug over to him. The small smile he gave you let you know that he recognized the gesture and probably had been for the last month and a half. 

Instead of acknowledging the mug or the hot chocolate or anything else, you nodded your head in the direction of the makeshift “stage” area that you had set up earlier with the help of Jude. 

“Any secret talents you want to go up there and share?” You asked, only slightly joking with your question. “There’s a full waiting list, but I can move you to the top, and I promise I won’t tell anyone.” 

“No, it’s okay, I’d rather not cut in front of everyone that was here before me. Next time, though,” He answered and it was easy to hear the sarcasm dripping from his voice.

“I will definitely hold you to that next time,” You said, playing along with him. “So, what’s your talent? Something tells me that you’re killer at the guitar. Ooh, wait, actually the triangle!”

Steve only gave you an unamused look and you tried your hardest to hold back your laughter.

“I’ll take that as a no to the triangle.”

“I’m gonna change the subject now,” He said, and you nodded, deciding to allow it to happen even though you had at least three more triangle jokes ready to go. “Can you please not let me forget to get some cookies for Maddie before I leave? She’s at my parent’s house for the night, but I promised I’d have some for her tomorrow so she can have them right after the soccer game.”

“Of course, I’ll put some to the side for her,” You told him. “I know the chocolate chip ones are her favorite. Same as Oliver.”

“Where is Olly?”

“At home with a babysitter— this super nice eighth grader that lives next door to us. She texted me half an hour ago that he finally fell asleep after watching Finding Nemo two times.”

“Maddie’s current movie obsession is Monsters Inc.,” Steve said with a small laugh. “We’ve been watching it at least once a night for the past week.”

“That’s a great one. She has good taste,” You said and Steve nodded.

You wanted to keep talking to him, but the sound of the music quieting down and soft clapping pulled you out of the conversation. 

“I’ll be right back. Gotta go announce the next person going up. Are you sure you don’t want it to be you?” You asked him teasingly.  

Steve only shook his head and rolled his eyes at you as you started walking away. 

You went up and introduced the next person, a middle-aged guy with a guitar who started playing the acoustic version of a song that you vaguely recognized from the radio. 

Steve was still standing right where you left him, lingering by the front counter and drinking from his mug, and you headed back to your spot behind the counter. He mentioned the PTA meeting last night that heavily talked about the Winter Carnival happening next week and Leslie, the head of the PTA, told everyone what their jobs would be— Steve was assigned to the popcorn station and you were put on the ring toss game. You and Steve already made plans to take the kids Saturday night since the First Grade parents only had to “volunteer” on Friday. He laughed at a joke you made right then about being surprised that you weren’t being forced to “volunteer” Friday and Saturday to make up for the fact that you didn’t help out last year.

Things went like that for the next hour— you two talking and laughing with one another, and some people coming up to order teas and hot chocolates and the occasional latte— until the time hit nine o’clock and the night came to its end. After giving a generous round of applause to the final performer and you announcing the end of this first open mic night, everyone slowly started heading out. 

A few people came up to you, telling you how great the night was and saying that you needed to do this again. You made a mental note to text Eddie later and once again thank him for this idea, and you’d maybe even let him finally say an “I told you so.”

You bagged up three chocolate chip cookies for Madeline and were about to hand them over to Steve, who was now sitting in an empty booth, and say your goodbye to him when Jude came up to you. There was a look on her face that resembled a cross between annoyance and slight worry. 

“I’m so sorry. I just got a call from my brother. He broke his arm while at his friend’s house and he’s at the hospital right now. And my parents are out of town for the weekend, so I’m the only “adult” around who knows all of the insurance stuff and everything, so I have to go. I’m sorry.”

The look on her face immediately made complete sense to you right then. Ever since you hired Jude eight months ago, you became very used to hearing her teenage rambles about her ten-year-old brother who she would constantly describe as the “bane of her existence.” Therefore, the fact that she was annoyed about this incident wasn’t surprising, but it was also a little heartwarming to see that you could tell that she was also, at least, the tiniest bit worried about him. 

“Yes, go. I completely understand. I hope he’s okay.”

“He’s an idiot, but he’ll be fine,” She responded as she joined you behind the counter for a second to grab her jacket that was hanging on one of the hooks and then started heading to the front door. “I’m really sorry again.”

“Don’t worry, it’s okay. I promise. Go, go,” You told her and she nodded. The bell chimed as she opened the door, and chimed again when it fell shut. 

You went over to Steve, sitting down across from him and handing over the bag of chocolate chip cookies. 

“Thanks,” He said, giving you a small smile. “I can stay and help you clean up if you want.” 

“I hope you really mean that because we’re past the point in our friendship where I would politely decline that offer to be nice. I’d actually really love some help right now.”

Steve laughed a bit. “I do mean it. And I owe you for the free hot chocolate and cookies.”

“You don’t owe me at all because that was the friend discount, but I will still accept that reasoning,” You said and smiled at him before slipping out of the booth. 

It was second nature for you to silently go into the routine that you were so used to doing at the end of every night— clearing mugs and small plates off the tables and tossing empty cups into the nearby trash can— and Steve followed suit.

Your mind almost immediately traveled to thinking about tomorrow, already going through and planning out what the day would look like— Oliver’s soccer game was in the morning and then you’d be back here for the rest of the day with Olly taking his spot in his favorite booth and proceeding to work on homework and then playing games, and you’d be at the cash register or in the kitchen working half of the day with Kyle, another one of your employees, and then the other half with Jude. You were then reminded that you would need to check in with her in the morning about her brother and see if she’d even be able to come in tomorrow. 

Your never-ending thoughts should’ve been taking a break for at least an hour or two, it was late and you were exhausted. But, whenever you were here closing up for the night, it was hard not to think about everything that could technically be deemed as “morning problems for tomorrow.” The relief you’d always feel about one day going really well would oh so quickly be replaced with the stressed need to make sure that the next day also went well, which made it completely impossible to not think about it. 

You weren’t sure how long things had been quiet, but when you heard Steve break the silence and softly say, “You okay?” you became aware of how long it had been since either of you had said something. 

“Oh, sorry, yeah, I’m just thinking a lot, I guess. Running through a million things at once,” You told him as you cleared one of the last tables, grabbing the mug full of a half-drunken latte and crumb-filled plate. 

“Okay, yeah, that’s what I thought. You kinda get this certain look on your face when you’re thinking really hard.”

You let out a laugh. “Does it resemble a deer in headlights? Because Eddie’s told me that one before.”

Steve coughed, which you knew was him just trying to hold back his laugh, and you playfully rolled your eyes at him as he spoke. “I feel bad saying yes, but yeah he’s right.”

“Just so you know, you also have a very uncute serious face.”

“I didn’t say yours wasn’t cute.”

You weren’t entirely sure what felt more unexpected; Steve’s words or how immediately affected you felt by them. Any quip or teasing joke you had on the tip of your tongue vanished in a matter of seconds, and your mind effectively became a flustered pile of mush; almost embarrassingly so. 

You were glad that Steve couldn’t see you right then, and you were especially glad that you two were on completely opposite sides of the shop at that moment— you putting the dirty mug and plate in the sink, and him clearing off the final table and tossing a coffee cup and random wrapper in the trash— because that distance meant that there was no way that you could read too heavily into what he just said, and he couldn’t pick up on how awkward and confused you immediately felt because of it.

A forced laugh fell from your lips, and you hoped to God and the universe and whatever else was out there that it didn’t sound completely fake. 

You walked over to the front window, where the makeshift stage area was, and grabbed the mic stand and wooden stool and Steve grabbed the two now unplugged speakers and followed you to the storage closet in the back. Once all of that was put away, you would just need to prep the cookie dough for tomorrow, and then the night would be done. 

“How are your baking skills, Harrington?” You asked him. You met his eyes for the first time in the past few minutes, it felt easier to do so now since your mind was back to only thinking about work.

“I’ve never baked anything before, but I’m good at following instructions.”

You smiled at that answer and it was what led you both to the kitchen. After washing your hands, you grabbed two metal bowls and the ingredients that would be needed for the cookies. And Steve was telling the truth, he was good at following instructions— you did the dough for the chocolate chip cookies, and you told him what to do for the sugar ones since they were a little bit easier, and it was all finished faster than you had expected. You put some plastic wrap over both bowls before placing them in the fridge.

“Thanks for all of the help tonight,” You told him. You both were now washing your hands at the sink that was full of the dishes that were the actual final thing you’d have to do before leaving. “If you’re ever in dire need of a part-time job, you’re hired.”

“Is the employee discount as good as the friend discount?” Steve asked as you turned off the water. He ripped off a paper towel and handed it to you and then grabbed one for himself. 

“It’s twenty percent.”

“I think I’ll just stick to being your friend then.”

That time you did entirely read into his words, as playful as they were. Just friends. That was exactly what you wanted and needed from him. You weren’t in the right headspace to consider being anything else with him, and you weren’t sure you ever would be. 

And besides, you liked being friends with him. It had been completely unexpected, but you liked talking to him, and you liked hanging out with him during Oliver and Madeline’s playdates that now felt like they were playdates for you both too, and you liked watching movies on the phone with him some nights before you went to bed— just last night you’d watched the first Tobey Maguire Spider-Man movie, as per Steve’s request. 

You were perfectly okay with being just friends with Steve, and as you continuously told Olly, it was the only thing that you two would ever be.  

You looked at him right then and he almost immediately met your gaze. 

“I don’t know how I’m just now noticing this, but you got some flour on your forehead,” You told him. Before he could say anything, you stepped closer to him and reached up to brush the white substance away with the damp paper towel in your hand. 

He gave you a soft look and there was a small smile on his face. “Thanks.”

It was obvious what sequence of events should’ve happened next— you should’ve told him that you just needed to clean the dishes in the sink and then the night would officially be done, and he didn’t have to stay for that. You should’ve finally said a goodbye and see you tomorrow to him.

However, right then, neither of you moved, and instead this sudden close proximity and the look and smile on his face made you get hit with the abrupt feeling that you wanted something more to happen, something more than just a friendly goodbye that was maybe followed by a simple hug. 

It was an insane idea that contradicted everything you had just told yourself. But, deep down you knew that the reason why you felt the urge to kiss him right here in this moment was the same reason why you always used the same mug for him every time he came here, and why you refused to admit it out loud. And right then, you still refused to dissect exactly what that all meant and what it would come to mean in the long run. 

Just for a second, you didn’t want to think about anything. You wanted to turn your brain off and simply focus on this moment that somehow felt so fucking right.  

And maybe Steve could read how much you wanted this to happen through the enamored look that you were certain was written all over your face, and that was why he let his hand come up to meet your cheek and why he leaned in closer, which made your eyes fall shut in anticipation. 

There was such a huge part of you that wanted this to happen, that felt as if you needed it to because maybe it had always been inevitable.

However, it didn’t take long for the existential dread to creep into your mind and prick right at the forefront of it. The reminders of why you’d been so scared of something like this happening with anyone for the past three years hit you like a freight train. Once you thought about all of that, you couldn’t force yourself to think or not think about anything else. Your mind was now on Oliver’s dad and what that entire situation with him changed for you— how it made you think about and see everything involving love so differently. 

And it was that painful reminder of what you were now terrified of that made you pull away from Steve and turn your head at the last second.

“I… I’m sorry.” 

Your gaze was fixed on the floor because you couldn’t bear to see what look was written across Steve’s face right then. 

“It’s okay.” His voice was soft when he spoke, which somehow made you feel worse.

“It’s just…” You wanted to say something, but you couldn’t pull your thoughts together fast enough. Your mind was moving in a thousand different directions and you still couldn’t even muster up the courage to simply look at Steve right then.

“You don’t have to explain. It’s okay, really,” He assured you again and you felt like he was being way too nice to you when you felt like the shittiest person.

“No, I wanna explain…” You told him, finally meeting his eyes. It was hard to read what he was thinking or feeling right then. “It’s just… I can’t– I don’t know.” You shook your head at yourself for being at such a loss for words at that moment. “I’m really sorry.” 

“No, don’t be sorry. It’s okay. Let’s just pretend this never happened,” He stepped away from you then, and you let him, deciding not to say anything else— you could no longer trust your voice, anyway. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning for the soccer game.”

You nodded quickly because you knew that there was nothing else to do. “Mhm, yup, yeah, see you tomorrow.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

Oliver gave you a look that he knew you wouldn’t be able to deny— there were puppy dog eyes and a pout that actually made your heart hurt. He was good. And you were weak.

“Okay, you can finish this episode, but then you’re starting your homework, bud.” 

He smiled and leaned back into the couch, turning his attention back to the cartoon that was playing on the television in the living room. “Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome,” You told him. You were completely okay with giving Olly some time to relax after school before starting his homework, but somehow you were almost always convinced by him to turn the thirty minutes into an hour— and maybe you shouldn’t have been surprised that this Wednesday afternoon was no different. 

It was also, overall, a surprisingly calm afternoon. There weren’t a thousand tasks on your plate right then; the calls you had to make and orders you had to place were already done. You had been at the coffee shop the entire morning and some of the afternoon before you had to pick Olly up from school, and Jude and Kyle would be closing for the night. Essentially, you would be free for the rest of the evening and night.

Instead of attempting to find anything to stress about at that moment, you were sitting on the small loveseat in the living room with your laptop balancing on the arm of the chair as you scrolled through the pictures taken during the open mic night.

Having a photographer for the night had been Steve’s suggestion, and it made sense coming from him given that he was in marketing, and he said that posting some on social media would be a good way to promote the event if and when you decided to do it again. You also thought it could be a nice idea to frame some and hang them up in the coffee shop. 

For most of the night, you’d forgotten that there had been a photographer there because of how discreet Shelby had been the entire time. But now you were looking at the edited pictures she emailed you earlier that morning of everything she’d taken barely a week ago, and you were already blown away even though you’d only looked at the first ten so far. 

There were a bunch of shots of people sitting at tables and booths happily enjoying their drinks and food, and there were also some of the people who decided to go up and perform. As you clicked through each of the photos and made mental notes of which ones you’d maybe want to post or hang up, you abruptly stopped at one of you and Steve. 

It shouldn’t have been that surprising to see a photo of you and him, you had been with each other during most of the night, but it still genuinely startled you to see such a candid moment of the two of you.

You were standing on one side of the counter and Steve was on the other— that was the only part of the photo that didn’t surprise you. You couldn’t tell just from that single shot what you two had been talking about in that moment, but it looked like whatever the conversation was about was a good one. There was a wide and elated smile on your face that reached your eyes, which were staring right into Steve’s, and an adoring look was written so clearly across his face along with a small smile. 

It looked like you two were dating; like you were newlyweds, even— if it were strangers in this photo, you would’ve easily thought either of those things. It looked like a picture of two people in love, so completely and utterly in love with each other. 

And it especially looked so goddamn obvious. 

Before even seeing this picture, it was clear to you that you felt something for him— what other reason would have made you almost kiss him that night? But, you didn’t realize just how deeply you felt, and you had forced yourself not to think about any of that over the last few days. You hoped that if you avoided and didn’t think about it, it would all just eventually go away. However, now that it was staring you right in the face, it suddenly became way too hard to deny everything or push it away or even pretend that you hadn’t just seen that picture. 

You were hit so abruptly with the truth that you couldn’t not finally admit it to yourself. You always gave him the same mug when he came to the coffee shop because you liked him. You wanted so badly to kiss him that night because you liked him. Fuck.

You quickly realized that what you saw in that photo was what Oliver and Madeline saw all of the time, and now it made complete sense why they were trying to push you and Steve into each other’s arms. Although you and him were apparently oblivious, they saw how happy you two were with each other. 

Eddie was right.

Your once calmed mind was now back to running a million miles a minute, and it became fully submerged with thoughts of Steve and how you felt about him and the almost kiss that you tried your hardest to forget ever even happened. You felt the overwhelming urge to cry the longer you looked at the photo, but you still couldn’t help but keep staring at it. 

You stood up from the loveseat and took a brief look at Olly before you walked out of the living room, he was laughing at the show on the TV. You went into the kitchen, setting your laptop down on the table and pulling your phone out of where it was in the pocket of the sweatpants you were wearing. You called the only person that you wanted to talk to at that moment, and you hoped that he wasn’t busy even though it was barely noon in California right then. 

When Eddie answered with a happy “Hello” on the fourth ring, you immediately said, “You were right.”

“Right about what?”

You bypassed his question for the moment. “I’m gonna send you a picture and just tell me what you… See in it. What you notice about it.” 

“That sounds very cryptic, but I’m intrigued,” He said and if it were any other moment, you probably would’ve cracked a smile at Eddie’s comment, but you felt way too stressed to do so.  

You texted him the photo of you and Steve through your laptop and when it said “Delivered” after a few seconds, you waited for whatever Eddie had to say about it. He’d be the one to tell you if you were crazy and overthinking things with the picture or not. 

It was quiet for barely thirty seconds before he said something. “Woah. Shit.”

You were mindlessly pacing back and forth from the table to the sink as you held the phone to your ear. “Can I get a full sentence, please?”

“I knew that you liked him, but I didn’t know you were in love with him.”

That was not at all the response you were expecting to hear from him. 

“What? You didn’t— I don’t—” You shook your head and took a breath. “Before seeing that picture, what could’ve possibly made you think that I liked him?”

“From the moment you told me that you and him were finally friends, there was just something about the way you talked about him. And then as you guys got closer and you talked about him more, it just seemed pretty obvious.”

Once again, Eddie said something that was entirely unexpected. It was hard to imagine it— you walking around with a crush that was apparently obvious to everyone but you— but you now knew it was true. “Why didn’t you ever say anything? You never called me out about it.”

“I figured you’d just tell me when you wanted to or when you decided to do something about the crush,” He answered, and that was such a nonchalant and Eddie kind of response that it didn’t surprise you in the slightest bit. “Is this your way of finally telling me?”

“No,” Was your immediate answer. In a way, it felt like a reflex or second nature to deny how you were feeling. “I’m not even sure if I actually have feelings for him.”

Your life would’ve been so much easier if that wasn’t a complete lie. 

Eddie immediately laughed at your words and when you didn’t join in, he stopped. “Oh, you’re being serious. I thought you were joking.”

“It’s just…” You had absolutely no idea how to finish your statement. You sighed and finally sat down at the kitchen table. “I’m really, really confused and scared, Eddie.”

Before he could say anything in response to that, you closed your eyes and said your next words. “Me and him almost kissed.” 

“Woah, what the hell? When?”

“It was last week at the open mic night. He stayed and helped me clean up because Jude had to leave early. We were washing our hands after making cookie dough and somehow we were about to kiss, but I pulled away at the last second and then he left. And we’ve been pretending like none of that happened ever since.”

It actually hadn’t been so hard to force things to be normal and completely okay between you two. Neither you nor Steve brought up what happened, just like you both agreed on, and in a way, it was easy to pretend as if the moment never happened in the first place— technically, nothing actually did happen, anyway. 

“Why did you pull away?”

“It was because of a mix of a bunch of things that are all basically the same thing,” You said and then let out a sigh. “I never thought that I’d want to be with someone again; like them or love them or whatever else. And I honestly didn’t think I’d be able to feel anything even remotely equivalent to love ever again because of the shitstorm my marriage became. And I do like Steve and I do feel all of those things that I didn’t think I ever would again, but I still don’t know if I'll ever be ready for something… More. Something real again because of everything that happened with…” You trailed off; you didn’t have to say his name for Eddie to know exactly who you were talking about. 

“Fuck that guy,” Eddie said with a huff. “I swear if I ever meet him, I’m gonna beat his ass.”

The conviction in his tone made you smile. “Thank you.”

“I do think that you can trust Steve, though. He’s one of the good ones. If this fucking picture says anything, it’s that he definitely feels the same way as you. And if it says anything else, it’s that he wouldn’t even think about fucking things up.”

It was hard not to smile at Eddie’s words. “You can see all of that in this photo?”

“You know the saying. A picture’s worth a thousand words or some shit,” He told you, and you could practically hear the shrug in his voice, which made you laugh for a second before you thought about something. 

“What if I’m the one that’ll mess everything up?” You asked him and then your mind traveled back to that night— you basically running away from everything, and Steve accepting that and walking away from it all too. Why would he want to try again with you? “Actually, never mind, I think I already did.”

“No, you didn’t,” Eddie reassured you, and for once it was hard to believe his words. “When are you gonna see him again?”

You thought for a second. “A little bit on Friday because we both have to volunteer at the Winter Carnival thing, but I doubt I’ll be able to have an actual conversation with him there. But, I’ll see him Saturday for the last soccer game and then later that night because we’re gonna take the kids to the carnival.”

“Okay, be honest with him there.”

“You make doing that sound so easy, Munson.”

“I just want you to be happy. You deserve to be happy— especially after all of the shit you went through with Olly’s dad. And it’s pretty clear that a lot of that happiness does come from Steve,” Eddie told you and for the first time, you didn’t have the urge to deny those words. “If you’re honest with him and he’s understanding and likes you too much to let you go, then everything works out and that’s great. Or, if you’re honest and it turns out that he thinks you did mess everything up too much and doesn’t wanna be with you, then fuck Harrington too and I’ll also beat his ass.” 

“For once, I actually believe that you did have a “bad boy” phase.”

“I told you. I used to be such a badass,” He said and you could hear the smile in his voice. “But, seriously, just know that I’ll be there for you no matter what scenario happens, so don’t worry about which one does. Also, just know that if, when I see you next week for Christmas, you haven’t said anything to him and there’s been no resolution to this situation yet, I will only let Oliver stay with me. You can find a hotel somewhere.”

“I promise I’ll say something,” You told him, and it truly didn’t feel like you were lying, and Eddie could tell that too.

When the call ended moments later and you placed your phone down next to your laptop, you looked at the picture again. 

You no longer felt startled seeing you and Steve like this— so smitten and happy. It made you feel content, at ease even. You felt yourself smile a little, and it was like you were a little kid with a crush all over again; which, technically, had been the case for the last month, but now you were aware of it and it felt weirdly good.

You realized then that it was a mistake pulling away from Steve that night. A big mistake that you sincerely hoped you could recover from because you no longer wanted to run away. And you hoped Eddie was right in saying that it actually wasn’t too late and you didn’t completely mess everything up. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

There hadn’t been a right moment all night. Or maybe you were just getting too into your head about everything. 

In the handful of days leading up to the Winter Carnival, it was hard to keep your mind off of Steve. Instead of beginning to second guess yourself and becoming unsure of everything— like you expected to happen since feeling like this again was so foreign to you— it all only became more and more certain. Your mind was the clearest it had been in such a long time; it was almost as if once you decided to no longer avoid how you felt, the rest just seemed to fall into place.

However, when Saturday night finally came around and you met up with Steve in the grassy parking lot of the large field where the carnival was happening, your focus was solely on Oliver and Madeline. Seeing how happy and content they were going on the few rides that were set up and playing the games, made it easy to forget what you needed to do. And it also made a part of you not want to do it— not want to change things; potentially for the worse if Steve actually didn’t feel the same way or no longer wanted anything to happen. But then you’d think about that picture and what Eddie said, and you knew that you had to find that moment to finally be honest, no matter what the outcome would be.

But still, no moment had been the right one. Not the moment where there was a brief lull of silence between you and Steve when Olly and Maddie were intensely focused on playing whack-a-mole, and not the moment where you and Steve quietly watched from the sidelines as they went on the train ride that just went round and round in a wide circle for a few minutes. And not even now when the night had finally come to its end and you both were about to drive away and leave.

The kids were fast asleep in their car seats and you and Steve lingered by the front of your cars. He had already said his goodnight to you and you reluctantly said the same, and you knew that he was about to turn and step inside his car— you could tell by the small smile he gave you— so you had to finally say something 

“Wait, um, before you go. I wanted to say…” You trailed off for a second and then you were speaking before you even realized what you were saying. “Do you want to go on a date sometime?”

Right as the question left your lips, you felt like an idiot. That was not what you were supposed to say; at least, not first. For a moment, Steve only looked at you, confused. Your question lingered harshly in the cold Winter air and you were about to take it back and start from the beginning, the actual beginning, but Steve finally said something.

“A date? Like, a real date?” He asked after what felt like the longest stretch of silence that you thought you’d ever experienced, and when you only nodded in response, because you were too nervous to say anything more right then, he said, “What’s changed since the open mic night? After that, I was pretty sure that you didn’t feel anything for me.” 

“I’m sorry. I know this sounds like it’s coming entirely out of nowhere. I had this whole long thing planned to say, and I messed up and started at the end instead of the beginning because I’m an idiot,” You sighed and then pulled your phone out of your coat pocket. “Can I send you something? It’s one of the pictures from that night that the photographer took.”

If Steve didn’t already think that this entire moment was insane, he probably did now, but he still said, “Okay.”

You sent him the picture that had now been sitting in your camera roll since Wednesday and then tucked your phone back into your pocket, eyes back on Steve and waiting for his reaction. 

“Oh,” Was the first thing that came out of his mouth. Other than the clear surprise, it was hard to read his expression right then. “Oh, wow.”

“That was probably my exact reaction when I saw it too,” You said, letting out a small laugh that felt entirely too awkward, but you pushed past it. “Okay, now here’s the very long-winded speech that I’ve been kinda rehearsing in my head for the past few days and I hope I don’t mess it up this time.” You took a breath and didn’t let your gaze break from his. “I like you, Steve. A lot. That picture kind of says it all, and it gave me the much-needed push to stop being so oblivious toward everything. The reason that I pulled away that night wasn’t because I don’t feel anything for you, it was because I do feel everything for you— and that’s terrifying as hell. Because you already know about everything that happened between me and Oliver’s dad, and it was one of the hardest things I ever had to go through. I loved him and he hurt me and pretty much ruined the entire way I viewed love and relationships. I never thought that I would want to date again, and I honestly wanted to just avoid it entirely, but now here you are.”

You took a breath, probably your first one in the past minute and a half. “And although doing this right now still does kinda scare the crap out of me, it’s an okay kind of scary— if that makes sense. The thought of finally starting over and starting something with you doesn’t feel as terrifying as I thought it would. Instead, it feels really exciting. And I hope that me running away that night didn’t completely mess things up between us before they really even got the chance to start.”

As your final words left your lips, you finally pulled your eyes away from Steve’s. 

He was quiet for what felt like forever, but you knew that he was just processing everything you said, which was a lot, and the overall length felt equivalent to a speech that you had to give in high school during your History class. That had been such a nerve-wracking moment, and you remembered nearly throwing up once you were finished speaking and sitting back at your desk— this time also felt sort of similar to that. But, in this moment, it also felt like the biggest weight was lifted off of your shoulders, so you didn’t regret your words at all. 

The longer you waited for Steve to say something, anything, the more you got the urge to tell him that it was okay if he wanted to reject you— the prolonging silence made you feel like that would be the inevitable thing to happen right then. It wouldn’t be the outcome you wanted, and you’d leave this makeshift parking lot partially devastated, but also with your head held high, at least, because you had been honest and you tried.

The words were about to leave your lips— the same ones he said to you that night; “It’s okay”— but then he smiled at you, a soft smile that managed to too easily warm you up from the inside out, and then he shook his head. “You didn’t ruin everything.”

“Really?” 

“Really,” He said, and it was that reassurance that made you inwardly let out a breath. “I completely understand why you’ve been scared— a part of me is really scared too because of everything that happened last year. There was barely any sort of a relationship left between me and Maddie’s mom before she left, but that didn’t really make going through that any easier. I trusted her and a part of me loved her, and in the beginning, I hoped that she would come back— maybe more for Maddie’s sake than mine. Once I fully accepted that she wasn’t, and deep down I think I always knew that, I never thought that I’d fall for someone else so soon. But, it was almost too easy to fall for you— and I think it started happening before I could even realize it was happening. And like you said, that picture pretty much says it all. So, yes to the date. Definitely yes.”

It was hard not to smile at his final words. It made you want to kiss him, but that felt like it was something that should be saved for a different moment entirely. 

You stepped closer to him and pushed yourself up on your toes, letting your arms loop around his neck and hugging him instead. It seemed almost instinctual how quickly Steve’s arms came up to circle your waist. 

You two had hugged a few times before, usually they were quick and in lieu of a “Goodbye” or “See you later,” and they were typically never anything more or less than a side hug. But, this one was completely different, it definitely didn’t say goodbye or see you later. Instead, it somehow managed to say a thousand other things. 

How tightly Steve held you, told you that he wouldn’t even think about hurting you or breaking your heart, and it also let you know that Eddie was right about you being able to trust Steve completely. 

And how your face was buried in Steve’s neck, fully taking in his scent, told him that he didn’t need to be scared of how quickly he was falling for you, the past wouldn’t repeat itself. 

Both of you had your shitty pasts, that in some ways you both were still recovering from, but it didn’t mean that you had to disregard or push aside what this was— these strong feelings you two had. Neither of you would say it out loud just yet, but it was clear that you loved each other. 

It was way too soon to put those three words out there, but they didn’t have to be said for both of you to know that they already existed so prominently between you two. The long embrace managed to say it all.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

Things were left fairly open-ended that Saturday night because it was quickly discovered that your schedules were way too busy with work and holiday plans to do something as soon as you both wanted to. And then, after a few texts and a late-night FaceTime call, it was decided that you’d see each other and plan things out when you and Oliver got back on the twenty-seventh from spending Christmas in California. 

You wanted so badly to kiss him when you saw him for the first time after a week of nothing but texts and sporadic phone calls— and that feeling only increased tenfold when you noticed the bouquet of daisies in his hand. But you couldn’t kiss him in a coffee shop full of people, so you settled for a hug instead, where he very subtly whispered in your ear how badly he also wanted to kiss you at that moment.

He and Madeline stayed for most of that afternoon. She played board games in a booth with Oliver, and Steve helped you out with little tasks you had to do since, on that day, it was just you working in the coffee shop. It was hours full of lingering touches— his hand brushing against your waist or hip at the most random of moments, and you standing almost flush next to him and your hands continuously grazing his as you showed him how to work the coffee machine— and long looks that made your brain feel fuzzy.

Both of you were standing in the back kitchen area when one of his hands found yours after you finished putting a sheet of cookies in the oven. “I already have an idea for what I want us to do for our date.”

You stepped a little closer to him and found his other hand to intertwine it with yours. “Since I asked you on the date, I think that I should be the one to plan it.”

“You can plan the second one,” He told you and it was hard not to smile at that. “So, when’s the next night you’re free?”

“New Year’s Eve, actually. We’re gonna be closed here then, and New Year’s Day too.”

Steve nodded. “Okay, perfect.”

Now that night had finally rolled around, and in comparison to the anticipation you’d been feeling for the last few days about it, a good kind of nervousness was coursing through your body as you hurried down the stairs when the doorbell rang at seven o’clock.

Oliver was already in the living room playing Connect Four with your next door neighbor, Natalie, who was almost always willing to babysit him for you. And she didn’t even seem to mind doing it tonight, even though it was New Year’s Eve, because she said that it would get her out of going to this party with her parents at her dad’s job. You still promised to pay her double the amount you usually gave her. 

“I left some money to order a pizza,” You told Natalie as you quickly put your shoes on, a pair of boots that stopped just below your knee and nicely complimented the short length of the dress you were wearing, and then you grabbed your coat and purse. “Call or text me if anything happens or you need something, you know the usual.”

“Got it,” She responded with a quick nod as she made her next move in the game. 

“I’ll see you later, Olly. Are you still gonna try and stay up until midnight?”

Oliver smiled up at you and nodded. “Yup.” 

“Good luck,” You said, smiling back at him.

You opened the front door and were immediately met with the sight of Steve standing at your doorstep, wearing a nice pair of black jeans and a coat over his long-sleeved white button-up shirt. 

You closed and locked the door behind you before turning to look at him again, a small smile on your face. “Hi.”

“Hi,” He told you and then his gaze traveled down your body for a brief second before meeting your eyes again. “You look really great.”  

His words let you know that you definitely made the right decision about pulling out the red strapless dress that had been sitting in your closet for the past year. It had no real reason to come out until now; for a date with someone that you really liked. And even after a year, it still looked great on you, hugged your body in all the right places, and made you feel really good. This was the first time in a long time that you were out of your typical “mom attire,” simple jeans and a plain t-shirt that was typically covered by an apron, and you wanted to look extra nice tonight; even if you and Steve wouldn’t be doing something fancy or extravagant.  

“Thank you,” You responded, smiling wider at him. “I don’t know what we’re doing, but as long as it’s not a hike or paintball, I think I should be fine.”

“Don’t worry, I think high-intensity things like that are usually saved for third dates,” He said playfully. 

“Oh, yeah, that’s so true,” You said, matching his tone and nodding. “But, if you force me to go on a hike for our third date, I’ll never go out with you again.”

“Okay, got it. Is paintball still on the table, though?”

“Sure.”  

“Great, so I won’t have to cancel our reservation in three weeks,” He responded, and the over-dramatic sigh in relief he let out made you laugh a bit.

It was almost embarrassing how easily Steve made you feel like you were back in middle school and crushing on the boy in your Math class. You hoped Josh Miller was doing well wherever he currently was because right then, as Steve reached out his hand and you slipped yours into his open palm, you knew for a fact that you were.

“Do I finally get to find out what we’re doing tonight?” You asked once you were settled in the passenger seat of his car.

Steve shook his head. “You’ll see once we get there.”

You sighed but still nodded. “The anticipation is killing me, just so you know.”

“Please don’t die before I get to show you everything.” 

That got a smile from you. “I’ll try my hardest not to.”

The drive was only about fifteen minutes— with you controlling the radio the entire time, and Steve’s hand that wasn’t on the steering wheel resting on your exposed thigh, and his thumb lightly stroking the bare skin throughout most of the ride. It was an action that essentially made your brain short circuit and was the reason why you had accidentally stopped on a station playing country music for longer than you intended. Your brain only started working again when the car was parked and you noticed that you were in his driveway.  

You looked at him, a small smile playing on your lips. “Usually, you bring the person back to your house at the end of the date, not the beginning, Harrington. How long has it been since the last time you did this?”

“Ha ha,” He said with a playful roll of his eyes at your sarcastic question. “The date is actually happening here, so that rule doesn’t really apply to this situation.”

“Okay, fair,” You responded, nodding. Your mind was already starting to run through the possibilities of what he had set up for you in his house.

“I’ll be right back, I just need to check something really quick first,” He told you and you only nodded again. 

Steve was barely gone for five minutes before he was opening the passenger door for you and helping you step out of the car. 

“Can I cover your eyes?”

“You’re actually making me really nervous now, but I’ll allow it,” You answered and he stepped behind you, covering your eyes with his hands.

“I think I might be more nervous than you,” He whispered, lips brushing your ear, which sent something equivalent to a shiver down your spine and you were glad that you had your coat on because it hid your goosebumps.

“Impossible,” You told him. “Is this a bad time to tell you that I hate surprises?”

“Yes, because now I don’t believe you.”

He was right to not believe you because that was technically a lie, but that didn’t mean that you weren’t still nervous about what this surprise would be. 

You expected him to guide you up the front steps of his house, but instead, you were led a different way, to the backyard. At some point, Steve stopped you both, but he still kept covering your eyes as he began talking. 

“Okay, so the initial idea I had was that we go to a drive-in movie theater because I feel like movies are kind of our thing at this point, and going to just a normal theater would be boring. But, the closest drive-in is over an hour away, and there was one specific movie I wanted us to watch anyway, so I decided to just set something up here.”

He pulled his hands away then and you opened your eyes. The first thing you saw was 

the large blanket set up in the middle of the backyard, there were a bunch of pillows on it along with a few folded up blankets and you noticed the plastic bowl full of candy and bucket of popcorn too. You then saw the projector screen that was set up a few feet in front of the blanket and the movie that was already queued up on it. Since it was currently paused, you could see the name in the top left corner— The Parent Trap. Everything was perfect, and you were about to tell Steve exactly that, but he started talking again before you could. 

“And I know you’re dressed up really nice right now, which means that you were probably expecting us to do something fancy, so I’m sorry if this is kind of a disappointment. But, I promise next time I’ll take you to the fanciest restaurant ever and—”

You cut off his rambling by turning to him and kissing his cheek. “This is the most thoughtful thing I think anyone has ever done for me. I love this.”

He smiled and you could see the happy relief washing over his face. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” You nodded, smiling back at him.

You pulled off your coat and slipped off your shoes and then grabbed one of the folded blankets to wrap around yourself before sitting down. 

“Maddie helped with a lot of the setup. She told me to add more pillows and blankets so that everything could feel really cozy,” Steve told you and you nodded at that, saying a quick, “She was very right.” “Also, I wasn’t sure what type of candy was your favorite, so I got a little bit of everything.” 

You grabbed the first stray bag of Skittles that you were able to find in the plastic bowl. “These are probably my favorite, but I do kinda like everything.”

“Okay, good to know for next time,” He said and there was something about the mention of “next time” that made your heart happily feel as if it was about to burst in your chest. 

Steve walked over to where the projector and his laptop were set up on his patio table so that he could start the movie. When he sat down right next to you, you gave him some of your blanket and he didn’t hesitate to wrap an arm around you as the opening credits and song started playing. 

The cold got to you quicker than you expected it to. You shifted a bit so that your legs were draped over Steve’s lap, you were almost sitting in his lap with how close you were. He wrapped his arms around you and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, letting his warmth and the blanket that was draped over you both engulf you completely. But when the blanket and his own body heat still weren’t enough to keep you warm, he went inside and grabbed a hoodie for you to wear. 

Not even halfway through the movie, you could feel his gaze solely on you; maybe it was to make sure that you were comfortable, which you were, or maybe it was to make sure that you were enjoying everything, which you also were. 

You looked at him, an amused smile on your face. “You should be watching the movie, not me.”

For a moment, he didn’t say anything— just simply kept looking at you, admiring you— until he finally did say something. “I know that this is completely breaking first date etiquette and another one of the “rules,” but I really wanna kiss you right now.”

You were nodding before the final words even managed to leave his lips. “Do it.” 

One of his hands came up to cup your cheek and he simply stared at you for a second before tilting your head up a bit and leaning in to softly slot his lips against yours. It was slow at first, like you both really wanted to savor this moment since it was the first time this was ever happening. 

Pushing yourself impossibly closer to him, your mouths moved against each other so seamlessly, almost as if this wasn’t the first time this was happening between you two— there was absolutely no confusion or uncertainty laced within this intimate moment. 

Steve pulled away slowly too, which elicited a soft and quiet whine from you. A sound that managed to oh so easily flip the switch for the both of you. From there, things became much more desperate and needy, as if you were two teenagers who just discovered what making out was. Your mouth hungrily found his that second time and his hand moved from your face and went down to grip your hip. 

For the most part, the movie became long forgotten, but there were some moments where you would abruptly pull away from Steve and claim that you two were “missing the good part of the movie,” and you’d force your attention back to that. It would always only be for a moment though, because before you knew it, you were back to looking at Steve and smiling at him and kissing his cheek or jaw or nose before eagerly finding his lips. 

Neither of you noticed when the credits started rolling. Your heads were against one of the pillows and legs were tangled beneath the two blankets that were over you both. One of your hands found home in the hair at the nape of Steve’s neck, and one of his hands had snaked underneath the hoodie and was squeezing your waist. 

You pulled back from the kiss, mainly to catch your breath, and Steve’s mouth immediately began attacking your jaw and then neck. You had to bite your lip for a second to keep from letting out any noise. “We’re probably giving your neighbors a very good show right now.” 

You felt Steve let out a laugh against your skin. “It’s a good thing that there are old married couples on both sides, so they’re all probably in bed asleep by now.”

You hummed in response. “Mm, that’s very good to know.”

You were about to pull back a bit so that you could then lean in and kiss him again, but then you managed to realize something and you turned your head toward the projector screen. “The movie’s over.”

“Oh,” Steve looked at the final credit screen that the movie ended on. “Good thing we’ve seen it before because I don’t think we watched any of it tonight.” 

You smiled at him. “Your face made it really hard to pay attention to the movie. I think we’ll need to go back to watching stuff on the phone in order for us to actually watch a movie.” 

“Never gonna happen,” He said before pressing a kiss to your lips. “I don’t have my phone on me, but I think it’s probably almost ten. What time do I need to get you home?”

“Oliver luckily didn’t give me a curfew,” You jokingly answered, which made a soft laugh fall from Steve’s lips. “But, seriously, Natalie told me that she’s fine with staying at the house as long as I need. For some reason, she really likes sleeping in the guest room once Oliver’s in bed. Even though tonight he wants to try and stay up until midnight to watch the ball drop, so I don’t know when he’ll actually end up in bed.”

“Maddie’s trying to do the same thing at my parent’s house, but she’ll probably fall asleep before eleven, if she’s not already,” He said and that made you smile because you were pretty sure the same thing would happen with Oliver. Steve’s hand then found yours beneath the blanket and gave it a light squeeze. “So, we should…” 

“We should go inside,” You finished for him and quickly pressed a kiss to his nose before detangling yourself from him and standing up. “I can help you clean up all of this first if you want.”

“I’ll do it in the morning,” He said and you nodded at that as he stood up too.  

You didn’t mind leaving your shoes and coat outside for the time being, but you grabbed your phone from your purse so that you could check it and make sure that everything was going okay with Oliver. You immediately saw that Natalie texted you almost thirty minutes ago telling you that he fell asleep, which made you laugh a bit. You quickly texted something back to her and then placed your phone down on Steve’s kitchen island when you walked through the sliding doors that led from the backyard to the kitchen. 

Steve walked over to where you were leaning against the island. He slipped his hands underneath the hoodie of his that you were still wearing so that he could grab your hips, and your arms came up to lazily circle his neck. He was the one who initiated the kiss that time around.

How comfortable and okay you were right then and how completely comfortable you had been the entire night was something that slightly surprised you as much as it made you feel so fucking happy. It was hard not to recognize that this was the first time in a long time that you felt this way— and that should’ve made things feel at least a little scary; like they would’ve felt just a few weeks ago— but instead that realization gave you a small burst of confidence in that moment.

You pulled back a bit, eyes still shut and lips lightly brushing his. “Y’know, I really love that we’re already at your house.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Mhm,” You nodded, eyes opening and then you stepped away from him and slipped your hand into his. You started leading him toward the stairs and you wondered if it was entirely obvious that you were heading to his bedroom. You already knew where it was because you had accidentally found it the first time you and Oliver came over for a playdate— you had been looking for the bathroom and mistakenly chose the door on the left instead of the right. “It makes this part a lot easier.” 

“What’s this part?” He asked and you could practically hear the smirk in his voice.

You turned to him when you were in front of his closed door. You gave him a look that said everything— everything you wanted from him right then and everything you wanted to give him— before reaching up and softly kissing his cheek. 

It was dark when you both walked into his bedroom and Steve flicked on the small lamp that was sitting on his nightstand. You were lingering by the foot of the bed and he once again closed all of the space between you two, his hands found the hem of the hoodie and immediately pushed it up and off of you. He slowed down when his fingers found the zipper on the back of your dress. A questioning look that asked “Is this okay?” crossed his face, and you quickly nodded. Somehow the minor action sent an inadvertent shiver down your spine— Steve letting the red material fall to the floor and leaving you in just your strapless bra and underwear before softly pushing you down so that you were sitting on the bed. You started helping him unbutton his shirt so that he could push it off of his shoulders and let it hit the floor as well. 

Your hands then found his belt buckle, fumbling around with it and then proceeding to unbutton his pants and snake your right hand within them. Steve’s groan was loud and it sent a chill through your body as you touched him and felt him grow stiffer in his boxers due to all of your soft, teasing strokes. 

After just a moment, he reached for your hand, halting your movements, and then leaned down to kiss you, removing his pants in the process. Once he was left in just his navy blue boxers you maneuvered upward so that your head was hitting one of his pillows at the top of the bed and he settled on top of you between your now spread legs.

Steve’s lips brushed against your forehead and then cheek before he pulled back and simply looked at you. “You’re so fucking pretty.” 

You didn’t feel an ounce of nervousness under his gaze, which said and told you so much, and it actually felt like your heart was about to burst out of your chest. 

“You’re not too bad yourself,” You whispered, tilting your head upward a bit so that your lips could meet his in a quick kiss. 

When your bra was discarded on the floor somewhere along with your underwear, you found yourself begging for him. Soft “pleases” fell from your lips as he teased you— softly rubbing your nipple in small circles and only stroking your inner thighs with the most featherlight of touches, getting so close to where you wanted him most. And feeling his hard length, which was still covered by his boxers, pressing against you only made your want grow more. You knew for a fact that you were making the worst mess against his comforter because of how much you were dripping for him.  

“Steve,” You let out a soft sigh, eyes screwed shut. “I need you. Please.”

“Mhm, yeah, anything for you,” He said, moving away from you for a second. Your eyes opened and you immediately missed his warmth enveloping you completely. He was ridding himself of his boxers and then began rummaging around in his nightstand drawer for a condom. 

You were smiling at him when he settled back on top of you and he gave you a small smile back. 

“You sure this is okay?” He asked, and you could hear the sudden shyness take over his voice. 

“Yes, I promise. I want this. I want you,” You told him, nodding profusely. He needed that reassurance and you completely understood why. Your voice was soft as you said your next words. “You sure this is okay?”

He pressed the softest kiss against your forehead. “So much better than okay.” 

For some reason, those simple words made your heart flutter wildly in your chest. He looked down for a second, lining his cock up with your soaked entrance, and then his eyes met yours again as he slowly pushed himself inside of you. 

“Fuck,” You wanted so badly to shut your eyes, but you also didn’t want to break his gaze. 

There was so much shared in the dreamy and lust-filled look you two were holding. You were hit with the sudden need to never have this to end. Not just the sex, but simply being with Steve— talking, laughing, playfully arguing as you debated random shit that didn’t matter. You wanted all of that with him for as long as you could have it. 

It was too early to even truly entertain the potential of a forever with him, but it was something that could happen and it was hard not to let your mind wander for a bit. 

You could see it all, and so easily too— your lives blending and becoming so deeply intertwined. You didn’t expect yourself to fall so goddamn hard for him so quickly, but it felt nice feeling so entirely certain about it all. 

“What are you thinking about, honey?” Steve whispered, breaking through your thoughts and eyes still looking so deeply into yours. He was still moving slowly but was also hitting so deeply inside of you with every languid thrust that it elicited the softest whines and mewls from you. 

“Everything,” You told him honestly, but didn’t explain further because you were then shutting your eyes and letting your mind turn to mush. A particularly hard thrust had your back arching off the bed and a gasp falling from your lips. “Shit, yes, right there.”

“I think about everything with you all the time,” Steve said, lips finding yours and swallowing the loud moans you let out upon hearing his words— right then, that was the only way that you could verbalize how much you loved hearing him say that. He started moving quicker, losing control inside of you, which you didn’t mind in the slightest because it only made you wetter. “I want it all so badly.”

You could feel yourself nodding at him, it still felt way too hard to open your eyes. “Me too.”

Your walls squeezed harshly around his cock when one of his hands snaked down to find your clit, rubbing it in tight circles with his thumb and almost immediately pushing you so close to the edge. 

“You gonna come for me, honey?” Steve asked with a groan and when you only mumbled out a barely coherent “yes” and “please,” he started circling your clit quicker before saying, “Do it. Come for me.”

It hit you so fucking hard. You were moaning loudly, practically screaming, as stars flooded your vision and your body almost immediately felt as if it was floating. How tightly you were squeezing Steve’s cock as you came only spurred on his own release, forehead dropping against yours as he pushed as deep as he could inside of you and spilled into the condom. 

Your lips haphazardly found his in a slow kiss as you both came down from your highs and your breathing returned mostly to normal.  His weight crushed you in the most peaceful way possible before he was slipping out of you and then pulling your back flush against his chest. You didn’t mean to fall asleep, but with Steve’s arms around you in the most comforting way, you did almost immediately. 

When you woke up, it had barely been an hour and the only reason you knew that was because the TV was now on and the live New Year’s Eve special was playing. You got up to go to the bathroom and then slipped on Steve’s white button-up shirt, only buttoning a few of the buttons, before getting back in bed. 

“Hi,” You whispered, head settling against his chest and his arms immediately came up to circle around you. 

“Hey,” He whispered back and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. You draped your leg over his hips to push yourself even closer to him. “Ten minutes to midnight. Should I take you home after?”

“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea,” You answered softly. “I wish I could stay.”

“Me too,” Steve said as one of his hands started lightly rubbing up and down against the curve of your hip. “One day, though.”

You smiled at that, tilting your head up a bit and kissing his jaw. “I can’t wait for that.”

Years down the road you’d both think back to this moment. 

When you’re laying in bed together in the house that you two moved into just weeks earlier, something bigger that would better fit your growing family. Oliver and Madeline would be fast asleep in their rooms down the hall from yours and their newborn sister would only be a few feet away from you and Steve, finally asleep in her bassinet. 

You’d be the one to bring up this night— how it was both the start of something and the end of something else— and he’d smile at you immediately and start absentmindedly playing with the ring on your finger. How it had been the start of a relationship that neither of you truly saw coming and how it brought a slow but steady end to the fears that both of you had. 

Steve would softly say that even though he’d been a little scared to tell you that night, he had known then— as he was dropping you off at your house close to one in the morning and softly kissing you goodnight on your doorstep— that he wanted to be with you forever. And you’d tell him that you had felt the exact same way, that you even ended up dreaming about it all that night like a lovesick teenager. 

That would make him kiss you, slowly and tenderly; something that never failed to make your head feel dizzy. 

Before you and him fell asleep too, just for a few hours before Luna woke both of you up, you would tell Steve that you were glad that Oliver and Madeline asked to have a playdate during that oddly warm day in September four years ago because that simple thing changed everything between you two. Your eyes would already be shut as you sleepily whispered how much you loved him and he’d smile while telling you that he loved you too. He’d then laugh a bit and say that it was the sleep deprivation making you extra sentimental right then but he was completely okay with that. His soft and sweet words of, “I’m also so glad that those playdates changed everything,” would be the last thing you remember hearing before you fully fell asleep, and it put the softest smile on your face.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

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