#the finale got a bit too intense so I had to pause and draw dad!steve

[kingsandsaints]

First of six lil' nuggets

[femmeharringrove]

when steve goes into labor early, he finds himself craving his mother's presence in a way he never has before.

he's always loved her, even if she never really loved him. growing up, she always just sort of avoided him - his eyes were so big and open and honest as he toddled about proclaiming his own love for just about everything under the sun - his nonna, the roses growing, and his mama. and she knew she should have loved him. hell, she wanted to love him, but she just couldn't. and since she couldn't love this little being who seemed entirely made up of love, she distanced herself.

and maybe as a child he didn't know, he was gullible enough to believe that she was just busy, just couldn't come play or couldn't help him plant a new flower, but he grew up and he saw everyone else's mother do so much better. and it stung. it did worse than sting, it ached in a way he just couldn't explain. and when he was fourteen he finally broke down and asked her why she didn't love him, and he'd hoped that she'd tell him otherwise but she was drunk and all she could do was break down and cry and ask for his forgiveness. she didn't remember it the next morning but steve's been haunted by the memory ever since, the knowledge that his mother doesn't love him.

of course he always knew his father despised him, there was no question of that. and now that he's having a baby of his own his aversion to the elder Harrington has only worsened. john harrington is a cruel being, he never should have been allowed near ant child, and steve was determined to keep him away from this one no matter what. he's already told the man he won't be allowed in the hospital, but his mother is supposed to be there. but it's the dead of night and the baby is coming early and as much as he cries for her there's no possible way to get her there in time.

still, billy's heart tugs at the way steve whimpers and says "i - i need her." but the thing is, billy knows the infamous misses harrington. and she doesn't deserve to be there when steve gives birth. but he knows exactly who does.

he does feel a little guilty about calling at such a ridiculous hour, but he isn't surprised when joyce answers, soft and groggy.

"hello?"

and billy pauses, because he doesn't know how to word this. he doesn't know how to tell her that steve's hours away from being a father instead of week, that he's crying for someone who doesn't love him, that billy himself is a little terrified. but in the end it just comes out on its own.

"he needs his mom."

and so joyce shows up at four in the morning and steve sobs against her because he's only ever been ready for the theoreticals. this isn't him reading a book on pregnancy, this isn't one of the kind mothers of hawkins sharing their delivery stories. this is steve, his stomach contracting miserably, his back and hips screaming, his heart racing because he's about to be in possession of a tiny little human being who's going to need him for everything. and this is also steve, barely in the third decade of his life, no real plan for his own future, staying up most nights because he's scared of monsters - monsters he'll now have to protect his baby from. and he doesn't know how to put those fears into words so all he can do is cry, and joyce, she gets it, she always does, and so she strokes his hair and soothes his fears as best she can.

and then there's claudia of course, who's been there since steve's first ultrasound, and she never leaves his room for long, not if she can help it. she holds his hand and wipes his tears and steve feels safe. claudia's always called him the older son she never had, and he feels more like steve henderson than steve harrington in those moments.

the kids won't leave either, because of course they won't. eleven and will overheard joyce on the phone the night before and when hopper tries to get them to school they outright beg to stay home because focusing is impossible knowing their honorary neice or nephew could be born at any second. and hop wants to make them go, but ultimately he can't. and once they get the all-clear, they call the others, and the next thing steve knows he's surrounded by a gang of not-quite teenagers looking him over for any problems and loudly expressing their excitement. and it's endearing, because it reminds steve that this kid has a plethora of babysitters at the ready - even if mike tries to act like he doesn't care, which is decidedly false judging from the panic that crosses his face when steve's hit with a nasty contraction.

dustin refuses to go home even as night falls, and max tells susan she's spending the night with eleven - which is true, but they're both staying at the hospital as well, hopper watching them while joyce stays firmly by steve's side.

on his right, as has been the case for the entirety of his pregnancy, is billy. holding his hand, pushing his hair out of his face, comforting and praising him through steve's low whines and pained groans. he doesn't know how many hours he spends pushing but it hurts like nothing else, like his body is being torn from the inside, and he wants it to stop but he needs to keep going. so he does, he grits his teeth and he pushes through everything, and in the end he's rewarded with the first wail of a human being.

and he doesn't cry right away.

not that he can, his body is catching up with that the hell just happened, his breath is still coming in quick, shaky gasps, and he feels like he's only hearing joyce, not listening. nothing feels right until he's given the solid six-pound weight of his baby on his chest. she's so pink, and her cries are subsiding slowly, but steve runs a trembling hand over the top of her head and realizes she's got the same dark fuzz from all of his baby pictures and then it smacks him in the gut.

this baby is his.

and he holds her close and cries because the amount of love in his chest is too much, he hurts with the intensity of it.

nikita rosaline harrington is her name, and billy tears up a little bit because of it. she's a pretty little thing, her nose is tiny and scrunches up whenever billy runs a fingertip down the tiny bridge of it. she's got her father's eyes too, big and brown and curious, billy's never seen anything more precious - or he thinks so, until he watches steve stare at her with the same eyes and nearly has a heart attack at how sweet the two of them are. and he doesn't need to complicate things right now, not when steve's finally catching his breath after months of hardship, but he knows in his heart this is his family. that's his baby, that's his - well, his steve. and he kisses them both on the forehead and promises he'll take care of them. he's not the dick responsible for knocking steve up, but it's an honor to do this, to step in.

to prove he's not like neil. he can be a dad, and a damn good one at that.

and steve, who doesn't even like letting nancy drive the party to the arcade without him being there, he trusts billy wholeheartedly to raise this baby with him. billy doesn't take that lightly.

joyce and claudia spend a good hour fawning over nikita, they've gotten her so many gifts and she ends up in the little cap claudia made and the outfit joyce got. max and eleven are just as thrilled, max kisses her chubby little cheeks and eleven stares at steve in awe for literally creating a life. will talks to her quietly and holds her like he never wants to let go, even though he does in order to let hopper hold niki for a bit.

there's never been a question about who her grandfather is. neil and john are simply unfit, and hopper's been a pseudo-dad to billy and steve, he's the only one who gets the grandfather status. there's a whole mix of emotion on his face as he bounces the cooing baby, telling her how nice it is to finally meet her and how he's gonna enjoy spoiling her rotten. when he finally gives her back to steve, the man has tears in his eyes.

"you did good, kid," he tells steve, runs a heavy hand over his hair before patting billy on the shoulder.

dustin holds her the longest, of course. he quickly comes to adore the fit of his finger in her curled palm, and he tells her about all the things he's going to teach her as she grows up. steve's fondly amused at how easily dustin takes to carrying nikita, in the same way steve got used to dragging dustin around. every time the curly-haired kid remembers to look up at the other people in the room, he gives steve the brightest grin, eyes crinkled with merriment.

"you have the coolest dad ever, niki," he informs her proudly, and steve's finally beyond the need for cool points but it's touching nonetheless.

mike and lucas meet her in the morning, and lucas immediately charms the baby with a little song as he rocks her back and forth. he declares himself the fun uncle, which dustin protests, but steve and billy know lucas is correct. mike is the only one who just knows how to hold a baby, thanks to a baby sister, so he takes nikita from lucas like it's nothing and stares at her little face for a long time. the emotion there isn't something steve can read, but he sees the way mike draws her closer after a moment and smiles.

mike's a protector, even if he likes to act like he doesn't care sometimes. and steve, who's just as protective, knows that niki is beyond safe with him.

when robin meets the baby she nearly screams. but then she remembers how new those little ears are and settles for the biggest grin as she swipes niki from billy and walks about, cooing all sorts of nonsense to her little neice. "she's too cute," she gushes, planting a kiss to the baby's forehead. "i'm taking her home. sorry, dingus." and steve protests, but they both know she isn't about to walk out of there with a baby. robin loves kids, but she doesn't think motherhood is for her.

it's certainly not for everyone. and that thought doesn't occur to steve until his mother shows up, nearly a day after niki is born.

he watches her go to pick nikita up and his heart twists and he wants to reach over and take her back. his hands stay clenched under the blanket as the woman smiles at the baby, then at steve himself.

"you made a cute one, i'm not surprised," she muses, and then she says, "don't you just love her?"

and steve, he can't really respond to that.

billy's his saving grace, picks up on the shift and ends up gently convincing misses harrington to come back another time. when he turns back to steve, the brunette has tears already streaming down his face.

"why couldn't she -?" he tries, but billy doesn't need him to finish that sentence. he moves closer and wraps steve up in his arms and for the first time decides that he hates both harringtons, not just john.

because steve's easily the most loveable soul he's ever stumbled across. he looks at nikita and all he can see is a little steve, and he hates the boy's parents for refusing to love the vulnerable little soul they brought into the world.

[geeky-writes]

Pieces of Echoes Chapter 22 Preview

Behind? Catch up on AO3/ FFN 😊

********

“How’re you doing today, Bucky?”

Bucky stared at him, his expression neutral as he studied Steve’s face. They went through this pretty much every time Steve came to visit so he should’ve been used to it by now, but it was still painful to have his oldest friend have to struggle to place who he was.

“Стивичик?” he asked.

“Yeah, Buck, that’s right,” Steve said softly. “I’m Stevie.”

“Maybe tell us a story, Papa?” Peter suggested. “Uncle Sam told me that happy stories can sometimes help bring back memories.”

Steve drew in a deep breath, his hand cupped around Peter’s skinny shoulder. What Peter said made sense of course, but unfortunately most of the stories Steve had that involved Bucky were either from the war or before Steve received the serum. Stories from the war probably wouldn’t help at all, and while Steve was often telling Peter that a person’s physical size didn't matter if they had a big heart, and that it was okay to stand up to bullies, he still felt uncomfortable with Peter hearing about him back when he was so weak that he could barely go three days without getting beat up or nearly suffocating.

He was Peter’s dad, and dads were supposed to be strong.

“Yeah, okay, little guy,” he murmured, giving Peter a quick smile.

“Oh, this’ll be good,” Peter said eagerly.

“I was almost five years old the first time that Bucky and I met,” Steve began. “It was springtime, and springtime in Brooklyn meant that everyone was out and about trying to shake their cabin fever from the long winter, and also that the air was full of dust and pollen and smoke and just about everything else that made me sick. My ma had gone to work, and since she'd been working so much and there wasn't a lot of food in the house, she told me I could walk down to the corner store and buy myself an ice cream cone if I promised to go straight there and straight back. I was just getting over a pretty bad cold, and she didn't want me exposed to too much else that might’ve made me sick again.”

“Your ma let you walk down the street alone?” Peter exclaimed. “In New York? When you were five?”

“Well, yeah,” Steve answered with a slight shake of his head. He couldn’t possibly imagine Tony allowing Peter to do such a thing. In fact, neither he nor Tony allowed Peter to do such a thing even now, and he was thirteen and had enhanced strength and agility.

“Things were quite a bit different back in the twenties, little guy,” he said, with just a touch of regret. “Not as… fast.” No alien invasions, no evil company executives out to get me and my family… just no father, an overworked and underpaid mother, and not enough money for food or medicine.

“Yeah, I suppose that makes sense,” Peter said. “But still, you and Dad would never—”

“And things are going to stay that way for the foreseeable future, Peter,” Steve said, a bit more sternly than he probably needed to. “All right?”

Peter blinked nervously as he nodded. “Uh huh.”

“So, of course I promised my ma that I would do as she said, because it was ice cream, right?” Steve continued, chuckling when Peter gave an emphatic nod. “So there I was, walking down the street with my head down and my hand in my pocket, clutching the shiny nickel that ma had given me for my ice cream, when these three other boys appeared on the sidewalk in front of me. They were all at least a head taller and a lot broader, and they stepped right up to me and demanded that I give them my money. And when I told them no and to leave me alone, the biggest boy punched me right in the face, and I hit the ground so hard that I got dizzy.”

“But you got up again, right, Papa?” asked Peter.

“I did,” Steve said with a nod. “And my nose was bleeding and it hurt so bad that I could barely see, but I did get back up. But before I could even draw back my fist Bucky suddenly appeared out of nowhere, shoved me aside and punched the boy so hard that he knocked him back into his two friends and they all ended up hitting the sidewalk.” He looked over at Bucky, whose lower lip was twitching, his eyes trained on the sketchbook in front of him. “And then you tossed me an old handkerchief and told me to wipe my nose, and then asked if I wanted to play stickball in the street. And I knew I wasn’t supposed to, especially since I was still coughing quite a bit and my chest was already starting to tighten up. But I—” Steve broke off, swallowing hard as he remembered how unbelievably lonely he had been back then. How he had always wished for a friend to play with, one who wouldn’t mind playing indoors most of the time since he couldn’t be outside for very long.

“I did anyway,” Steve continued. “I went and played, and about fifteen minutes later—”

“You started turning blue,” Bucky suddenly said, low and gravelly. He slowly looked up, meeting Steve’s eyes. “You were doubled over, with your skinny-ass arms wrapped around your stomach and your eyes so wide they were almost popping outta your head. And you said, ‘My ma’s gonna kill me’, and I said—

“That I looked like I’d die before she got the chance,” Steve finished, trailing off as his lips curled into a shaky smile. “Bucky, do you remember?”

Bucky’s eyes shifted as a pause settled between them, laced with regret.

“Sometimes,” he whispered. He shook his head, his shaggy hair falling across his forehead and into his eyes. “Bits and pieces, here and there. Most of the time I can’t tell what’s real and what’s made up anymore, if the memories are clear or if they're shiny, if I’m still who you say I am or if I’m what you say they turned me into. But other times it’s—” and he glanced over at Peter, giving him an almost imperceptible smile.

“Other times it’s better.”

“Then we just have to hope it’ll keep getting better,” Peter said, and Steve's heart gave a lurch at his sincerity and determination. “Right, Papa?”

“Absolutely, little guy,” Steve murmured as he squeezed Peter’s shoulder. “And you’re doing a great job of it.”

“Петр мой друг,” Bucky said, so softly that Steve had to strain to hear him.

“He said ‘Peter’s my friend’, Papa,” said Peter with a proud smile. “‘Cause I am.”

“Yes, he is, Bucky,” Steve said. “Peter is your friend, and he’s not the only one. There are so many people here who are willing to help you as long as you’ll let us.”

Bucky flexed his metal left hand, turning it over in his lap.

“Да” he answered. “Друзья.”

“I’m pretty sure that means, ‘friends’,” Peter whispered.

“Friends,” Steve repeated. “You have lots of friends here, Bucky, and we’ll all be with you til the end of the line. You have my word.”

He reached a tentative hand towards Bucky, placing it carefully on his shoulder. Bucky flinched at the touch, but to Steve’s relief he didn't try to pull away.

“Друзья,” he whispered.

“That’s right, Bucky,” Steve said. “And friends always help each other get back up when they’ve been beaten down, right?”

Bucky’s chin started to shake, tears welling in his piercing blue eyes. “Я хочу вспомнить,” he said quietly.

Steve looked helplessly at Peter, who only shrugged as he pulled out his phone. “JARVIS?” he asked. “Can you please display what Uncle Bucky just said?”

A lump rose in Steve’s throat when the words, I want to remember appeared across Peter’s phone screen.

“And we’re gonna help you,” Steve said, as fiercely as he dared. “I promise.”

Bucky looked up at him then, his expression tortured and intense. “Я не заслуживаю вашей помощи.”

I don’t deserve your help, scrolled across Peter’s phone.

“It doesn’t matter whether or not you deserve it,” Steve said. He tightened his fingers on Bucky’s shoulder, looking straight into his eyes. “Because you have it anyway.”

He looked away for several seconds, his metal fist opening and closing in his lap.

“Благодарю вас,” he finally said. “Thank you.”

“You're welcome,” said Peter. “Would it be okay if I come back tomorrow sometime, Uncle Bucky? Papa’s going on another trip in the morning, but I’ll still be here.”

Bucky’s lips curled into a slight smile. “Да.” He glanced at Steve, tilting his head. “Another mission?”

“No, not this time,” Steve answered, smiling sheepishly as his cheeks flushed. He held up his left hand, wiggling his wedding ring. “Um… it’s my honeymoon. Mine and Tony’s.”

Bucky’s smile grew even wider until it was practically cheeky, and for a moment he looked so much like his old self that Steve nearly burst into tears.

“Стивичик,” he said. “You rascal.”

“Got that right,” Peter mumbled, smirking.

“Tony and I will be gone for two weeks,” said Steve. “But I’ll come and see you again once we get back if that’s okay.”

“Да,” replied Bucky. “Have fun. Don’t do anything stupid.”

“Thank you,” Steve said softly. “Take care, Buck.”

At Bucky's nod he and Peter stood up from the bed and exited the room. “He is getting better, Papa,” Peter said once they were in the elevator. “It’s just gonna take awhile.”

Ever the optimist, Steve thought fondly as he ruffled Peter’s hair. I should take some lessons.

“I know, little guy,” he said. “It’s just… it’s hard for me to see him like this. He was always so full of life, even larger than life, and now—”

“He won’t ever be exactly the same as he used to be, Papa,” Peter said. “But we can still help him be the best that he can be now.”

Steve gave him a sad smile, trying hard to contain the flurry of emotions swirling inside him. Steve knew that if the science of what HYDRA had done to Bucky was unclear to even Bruce and Tony, two of the most intelligent people in the world, then he himself would be very hard-pressed to understand it.

Unfortunately, that knowledge didn’t help much. Watching Bucky struggle to remember him almost hurt more than when he thought he had lost him for good.

And besides all that, he and Tony were leaving for their honeymoon in only a matter of hours, and it wasn’t going to be fair to Tony for Steve to be so distracted by what was going on with Bucky.

“You’re absolutely right, Peter,” Steve said, a lot more emphatically than he felt. “And it doesn’t do any good to dwell on things that we can’t change, right?” Isn't that what I’m always saying to Tony?

“Right.” He shot Steve a rather wary look as they stepped into the penthouse. “I still can’t believe your ma let you wander around Brooklyn when you were not even five though.”

“Who’s wandering around Brooklyn?” Tony asked as he entered the living room.

“No one is wandering around—” Steve started.

“Papa was,” Peter cut in. “He just told Uncle Bucky and me a story about how he was walking to get ice cream before he was five.”

Tony quirked a stern eyebrow in Steve’s direction. “Uncle Bucky? Are we really there already?”

Peter shrugged. “It’s no big deal, Dad. I felt weird just calling him Bucky, and if he’s gonna be living here with us from now on, why not?”

“Mmm,” Tony grumbled. “Okay, so who’s wandering around Brooklyn now?”

“I was when I was five, Tony,” Steve said with a huff. “And I’ve made it perfectly clear to Peter that things were very different back then and that under no circumstances is he allowed to do the same.”

“Damn right he’s not,” Tony stated. “And you just heard me say that, right, bud?”

“Loud and clear,” muttered Peter.

The full chapter will post on Monday, July 1st 😊

[hairringtonsteve]

you have me.

(steve harrington x reader)

summary: steve’s not so great at admitting things in the best way possible. but it works out for him, so he sticks with it. 

request: Can you write an imagine for whoever based on the song Passenger Seat by The Summer Set 😂😂😂

word count: 5, 275

a/n: so yesterday i posted a poll, and the votes amounted to steve getting posted next! so here it is!! also, @dacrethehalls this is for you 

You fell in love in the passenger seat of Steve's car.

Steve fell in love on the first day of ninth grade. Seventh period. Ms. Ranson’s Geography class.

You were the new kid. It had been the same routine in every single class that day. Whatever teacher was in charge of said class would give the same hey class this is y/n and she's new. please, tell us about yourself and you’d be stuck coming up with some new fact.

I'm from the Northeast. I like pizza. I like reading.

On and on and on, coming up with some new inane fact per class. It was exhausting. Ms. Ranson's class was no different. She introduced you to the class in that nasally voice of hers and you muttered something about drawing. You'd barely gotten the words out before she was shuffling you to the nearest empty seat.

“Hey, I'm Steve.” The whispered words came from your left. You glanced over and gave him a sharp nod.

“Cool.”

It was quiet for about twenty seconds when you heard him again.

“You like to draw?”

“Yeah.”

“What can you draw?”

Ms. Ranson cleared her throat. She eyeballed Steve, the very beginning of a glare easing onto her face.

“Mr. Harrington, what do you think you're doing?”

“I'm following your instructions, ma'am. You said to make her feel at home, so I am.” The older woman allowed her features to fall into a full glare.

“That smart remark just earned you a detention, Mr. Harrington.” He let out a scoff of protest, but quieted down when you spoke up.

“But he was just following your instructions, ma'am. That's not fair, for you to punish him when he's just being polite.”

You glanced over to Steve, who was staring at you, lips parted in awe. He shook his head when he realized that you were looking. A red flush colored his cheeks. You turned back to the teacher, who was shaking her head at the both of you.

“Well, if you're so keen on defending him, then you can defend him right to detention. The both of you have just earned yourselves a detention on the first day of school. An admirable feat.” There was sarcasm lacing her words. You and Steve exchanged an eye roll, and from that moment on, were attached at the hip.

“Do you ever think of your life as - as pictures? Like, snapshots?” You blinked, bleary eyed as you looked over to Steve. The beer can in your hand was starting to get warm. It wasn't that bad, though. A warm, fuzzy feeling had started to spread through your limbs. It felt nice.

“What do you mean?” He had a brow cocked at you, that small smile of his playing on his lips. You leaned into his side a little, your feet moving back and forth, gentle in the warm pool water.

It was the night before your senior year started. Notebooks had been bought, clothes had been picked out for the next day. It had become tradition for you and Steve to sneak some of his dad's alcohol and drink out by the pool. By some miracle, the tradition had continued on to its final year, despite Steve getting an offer to hang out with Nancy that night.

“I don't know. It's just, well, like summer. Summer isn't big things for me. It's… driving in your car late at night. Or sitting on the edge of your pool, like now. Or screaming the lyrics to Africa at three in the morning when you got us lost in Chicago.”

“I didn't get us lost. You were shit at directions.”

“You're not getting it!” You exclaimed, waving a hand out in front of you. You made a vague motion with it, but Steve nodded as though he understood what you meant.

He always understood what you meant.

“Then help me.”

“I just - it's - everyone keeps telling me about the big things. Graduating high school. Going to college and having a career and marriage and babies and just all these big things.” You paused. “But no one talks about how good the little things are. How important they are. No one talks about how you look when you make me sneak out of my room so we can just drive around at night.” You were rambling. Maybe you'd drank more than you'd thought.

“How do I look when I make you sneak out of your room?” His voice was soft in the darkness. The only light was from the pool, hazy and soft and blue. It reflected on his face, catching the way his gaze was fixed upon you. You couldn't tell if he was the one holding his breath, or if it was you.

“Like magic, Steve.”

He ducked his head, the blush on his cheeks visible even in the low bluish light. You watched him for longer than necessary. The beer in your hand - your third, maybe - was making it hard to focus on the right things. Instead, you were focusing on the way your chest twisted at the sight of him; the way it felt as though your heart was being wrenched this way and that at the idea of not seeing him every single day.

“What’s going to happen to us after we graduate?” Your words slipped out unbidden. They fell at his feet, bloody and vulnerable and ready to be trampled upon.

“What do you mean?”

“We're not gonna be in the same town, regardless of where you go. And, uh, most people think it's weird when a girl calls a guy that's dating someone else.”

It was quiet for a long time after that. Steve stared at the gently moving water, his knuckles white as he gripped the beer can. You'd said the wrong thing, then. It was the truth, though. Guys didn't call girls that they weren't dating. Guys didn't write to girls or keep in touch with girls that they weren't into. You and Steve were platonic, therefore this year was it.

It was all you'd get.

“Demogorgons.”

“Yeah.”

“A shit ton of demogorgons.”

“Yep.”

“You're telling me that you battled interdimensional monsters a month ago and you're just now telling me because Dustin Henderson is allowing you to?”

“Uh, yeah?”

Benny's Diner wasn't the most popular spot in town, but it was open and close enough to the middle school that the two of you wouldn't have to rush back to pick Dustin up. But most of all, it was the place that Steve had deemed to just lay everything on the table. Or on the dashboard, really.

No one had left the car since he'd parked. He hadn't been able to keep quiet, instead spewing up word after word. Every syllable was crazier than the last, but it made sense. A year of insanity, wrapped up in Steve's car.

“So… Is that why the late night car rides started becoming a bit weekly thing? Nightmares?” Steve stared at you, reminiscent of the way that he'd looked at you that day in ninth grade.

“I literally just told you that monsters exist and that a girl with psychic abilities is in Hawkins, and you're concerned about my nightmares?”

“Uh, yeah, dumbass. Have you been sleeping? You're going to make yourself sick if you don't,” you said, frowning at him. He had to understand that this was important, right? The boy needed sleep. Now that you were looking, the bags under his eyes were obvious. They were dark and puffy, screaming for someone to notice them.

“How are you more concerned with my nightmares than with El?”

“She has Hopper. You have me.” You stared him down, daring him to disagree. His mouth hung open a little. The cold must've filtered into the car by then because there were little puffs of white coming out with each of his exhales.

“I have you,” he parroted. There was something off in his voice, like he was too caught up in his head. His eyes refocused on you, suddenly bright and a little intense. “I have you,” he said once more, his voice firmer this time around. Like he was stating a fact.

“That's what I said.” You watched him, brow furrowing. He was indecipherable. For the first time since you'd met him, you couldn't read him. “Look, how about we stop at the dance, tell Jonathan to bring him home, and we head back to my house?”

“Why your house?”

“ You sleep better there.” You'd looked out of the window, smiling faintly as flurries started to fall.

You totally missed the way that Steve was looking at you.

Sleeping at your house became a thing.

But the bigger thing was the late night car rides. They'd been a staple of your friendship, but they'd become more frequent. Before he'd told you, they happened about twice a week. After he told you, it was almost every single night.

Steve would toss rocks at your window. You'd climb onto the roof and then make the small jump to your favorite tree in the backyard. After shimmying down, it would be straight to his car. His BMW had become a safe haven of sorts.

“It's like the wardrobe,” you'd said one night, watching as the orange streetlights streaked by.

“The what?” Steve's fingers were tapping along to the music. Occasionally, he even started humming.

“The wardrobe, from the Chronicles of Narnia. You know, the thing that Lucy went through to get to Narnia?”

“Yeah, didn't read that one.”

“Okay, so Lucy Pevensie goes through this wardrobe and ends up in this magical land of Narnia. And your car feels like that wardrobe. Like we're going to somehow leave and go to this incredible place, on this adventure.”

“How's everything turn out for Lucy?” You looked over at his question, lips forming a small smile. The warm glow was resting on his face and it made everything seem like a dream.

“Pretty good, actually. It all worked out in the end.” Steve nodded his head a couple of times, slow and loose, like he was thinking about something.

“And my car is the wardrobe?” There was something lying underneath the surface of that question. It was just out of reach, brushing against your mind but refusing to stick. Steve was looking for an answer but you didn't know what it was. So you went with your gut.

“Yeah, it's the wardrobe.” The answer satisfied him, the corners of his mouth curling upwards.

You'd ended up in your room not long after that. The rest of the ride had been spent in silence aside from the radio. You'd fiddle with the dial, going from station to station until Steve would swat your hand away with a roll of his eyes.

That easy camaraderie had shifted by the time you got back. You had your back to him and vice versa, slipping on your pajamas as you tried to pin down what felt different that night. You'd been doing this for at least two months. Nothing had changed, yet it had. There was a tension in the air, rippling and shifting with every look that Steve gave you.

By the time you laid down in bed, you felt like you were going to crawl out of your skin. You slid under the covers, briefly relishing in the warmth that your pajama pants provided. But then Steve was climbing in and the feeling was back in full force. He hesitated for a moment before you scooted towards him. His arm went around your waist, tucking you into his chest.

Around week three, you'd both given up pretending that you didn't end up cuddling at night.

“Y/N?” Steve whispered, his warm breath curling around your ear.

“Yeah?”

“I - I can tell you anything, right?” His voice was wobbly and unsure. You struggled not to tense up. The last time he'd sounded like that, you'd sat in his car as he exploded on about bullshit.

“Of course, Steve.”

It was quiet. If you listened close enough, you would have been able to hear your dog padding down the hallway. The wind blew, causing the occasional tree branch to crack or scratch against the side of the house.

“I'm in love with you.”

Your heart stopped. You'd never gotten it whenever people said that their heart had stopped. Of course a heart wasn't going to just stop beating because of what something had said. However, those five words had caused your heart to slam against your rib cage and pause for a painful second.

“Like… like a friend.”

“No.”

The single word was so sure of itself that you wanted to punch him. His arm was still wrapped around your waist, and it was too much. You shoved it up and out of the way, almost launching your body away from him. You started to pace, back and forth, stepping on the clothes strewn across the floor.

“You don't love me.”

“Yes, I do.” He was sitting up in your bed, running his fingers through his hair as he watched you. He was almost frustratingly calm. You would've thought he wasn't worried at all, but his teeth nipped at his lower lip. His fingers thrummed against his leg. He kept messing up his hair. You knew him too well.

“You're full of it.”

“Do you know when I knew that I loved you?”

“Steve, stop it.” You were shaking by then.

“First day of ninth grade,” he started, ignoring the way you were staring at him, begging him to stop. ‘Seventh period. Ms. Ranson's Geography class. You defended me. No one - no one ever did that before. And you - you're still the only one that's ever defended me. That's ever given a shit about me beyond my fucking popularity status. So don't tell me to stop it, okay? Because I can't.” His voice cracked at the end and it hurt you to your core. But this was you, and you dealt with pain the same way that your dog did - by lashing out.

“You can't? Really? You can't? You dated Nancy for a year, Steve.”

Steve shot up, finger jabbing at you as his eyes darkened. There it was, that anger. You needed him to be angry. Anger was easier to deal with than… than the other thing.

“And I felt like shit all the time because deep down I knew it was bullshit on both sides. I… It wasn't right for me to date her, but it fucking killed me to know you don't feel the same,” he spat out, scowling. He loomed over you, making something in your chest twitch.

“You can't just spring this on me, Steve. Not now, now here. It isn't fair.”

“Not fair?” He asked, a hysterical note to his voice. “We've been sleeping in the same bed for two months! We spend every free second together. You told me that I look like magic. We act like a couple. We talk like a couple. You care more about my wellbeing than I do! You hold my hand and are there for me and -” He cut himself off, glancing for a second to your door. You'd almost forgotten that your parents were home.

“That's what friends do, Steve!” You took care that your voice was a whisper, but it was still louder than you'd meant for it to be. “Because we're friends.”

“Friends.” The word came out bitter, his lips twisting into something unpleasant. “Right. We're friends.”

“Why are you saying it like that?”

“Because that's what we are. It's what we've been for years. It's what we'll always be.” He was spitting the words out then, scowling as he stepped away from you.

“Why are you saying it like that? And why - are you leaving?” You watched as he gathered up his clothes, shoving his legs through his jeans and tugging on his sweater. “What are you doing?”

“I'm going home.”

He was leaving.

“But why?”

He was leaving you.

“I need some space, alright? I just do.”

“Steve, don't-”

“Why don't you call Matt, hm? Christ knows you two were never just friends.” The mention of your ex stung. It was a low blow, and he knew that.

“What the fuck is your problem, Steve?” He just waved his hands in the air as he shoved his feet into his sneakers.

“I'm not doing this right now. I’ll see you later.”

And just like that, he was gone. You stared at the open window, watching the curtains shuffle with the breeze. It was the middle of February, and the air had a cold bite to it. You left it open. You didn’t even bother going to your bed, instead just sitting on the ground, staring at the spot of where his sweater had been.

He was in love with you. Apparently had been for years. You slammed your hand on the ground and scowled. How dare he throw that on you then! It was only a couple of months until graduation, and then what? Seeing each other on holidays and maybe the occasional call? Losing Steve was going to be hard enough, but throwing those kind of emotions into the mix just wasn’t fair.  

Your heartbeat sped up at the idea of those emotions. He was full of shit, ruining a perfectly good friendship over this. The boy couldn’t even handle himself, let alone another relationship. He was still rebounding from Nancy. He was deluded and exhausted and emotional. He wasn’t thinking clearly. Steve had just been spewing nonsense when he’d said those things, about the two of you acting like a couple. You didn’t act like a couple. You didn’t.

Without meaning to, your thoughts shifted. Sure, the two of you hung out more than most friends did. And yeah, you were more affectionate towards him than friends would normally be. But his parents were rarely ever around and he needed someone to be there for him, to hug him and make sure that he was okay. And you had said that he looked like magic, but that was referring to whenever he was driving late at night.

And it was true.

Steve looked like a dream that you’d have late in the winter when you were longing for summer. The orange glow would light up his face and make everything soft. His eyes would narrow anytime that you’d turn the radio dial, and you’d end up shrieking when he’d lightly slap your hand away. He always let you have the last say, though.

From ninth grade until twelfth grade, Steve had been a constant in your life. And when he’d gotten his car, that was a constant too. Your summers were judged by how many days you’d rode in his passenger seat, windows down as you screamed to the music. Your winters, by how many mornings you two had sat in his car before school, talking enough that the windows fogged. Spring and Fall were spent riding around in the evenings, watching the leaves sprout and change color.

It was as though everything had been spinning in fast, chaotic circles, but suddenly, it screeched to a grinding halt.

You were in love with Steve. You had been in love with Steve for a long time.

Oh.

“Nancy,” you said, skidding to a stop as you reached her locker. She cocked a brow at you, tilting her head as her eyes narrowed.

“What’s wrong with you? You look terrible, Y/N.”

“I…” You trailed off, glancing around to make sure that no one was close enough to overhear. “I think I’m in love with Steve.” You were waiting for some big reaction. You’d betrayed a friend of yours by being into her ex. You were waiting for her eyes to wide and her mouth to fall open and for her to stare at you in shock. But instead, she just cocked a brow at you.

“Yeah. What’s the big deal?”

“What do you mean, what’s the big deal?”

“Wait, is this news to you?” You stared at her.

“It’s not news to you?”

“No? You and Steve got really close after everything happened in November. I thought you two…” She waved a hand in the air to motion towards something.

“We’re just friends, Nance.”

“He’s been sleeping at your house for two and a half months.” She said the words slow, enunciating every word, looking dubious.

“Because he can’t sleep at night.” Nancy tilted her head back against her locker, rolling her eyes so far back you could see the whites of them for a moment.

“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard, and you know it.”

“Oh, my god.” You leaned back against the wall, the sick feeling that had been in your stomach all morning multiplying. Jonathan paused by Nancy, giving her a quick peck on the head as he looked over to you.

“What’s up with you?”

“She’s just now realizing that she’s in love with Steve.” Jonathan frowned, looking almost exactly like Nancy had just seconds before.

“Oh God, I’ve been leading him on.”

“No, you haven’t. If you tell him that you-”

“He told me that he loves me last night and I panicked and said that he didn’t love me and that we were just friends,” you blurted out, cutting Nancy off in the middle of her sentence. She and Jonathan both stared at you, sharing the same look of utter shock.

“You’re shitting me,” Jonathan said. “Is that why he almost punched me in the face when I say hey to him in Mr. Reese’s class?” A bell rang out, and the three of you blanched. “Shit, just - Talk to him, please? If not for you, for me? Because I cannot deal with him regressing back to his King Steve shtick, okay?” With that, the boy was dragging Nancy down the hall as the rest of the students cleared out.

You headed in the opposite direction, your heart pounding more and more with every step. Eventually, you stopped outside of Mr. Clarke’s room, praying that Steve had actually showed up to class. You opened the door and popped your head inside, ignoring the way that everyone turned to stare at you.

“Uh, Mr. Clarke?”

“Yeah, Y/N, what can I do for you?”

“Steve’s wanted in the office for something. Principal Norris asked me to get him.” You allowed yourself a little weak moment and looked over to Steve, who was staring at you with a blank expression.

“Head out, Harrington. Get the notes from somebody later, alright?” You watched as Steve got up from his seat, throwing the strap of his backpack over his shoulder and practically shoving past you to get out the door.

“What’s Norris want with me?” His tone was neutral as the two of you started down the hallway.

“Uh, she doesn’t. I just - we need to talk, Steve.” He stopped in his tracks, looking down at you with a scowl. You’d seen that look before. It had been aimed at Jonathan in years past, more recently Billy and Tommy. But not you. Never you.

“Cool. I’m heading back to class,” he said, shaking his head at you. His shoulder bumped against yours as he passed. You reached out, fingers wrapping around his hand as you tugged him to a stop. His skin was warm against yours, somehow comforting you and hurting you at the same time.

“Steve, please.” Please came out cracking and broken. You weren’t sure if you’d ever sounded so desperate, so scared and aching and wishing that things could just be right.

“Then talk.” The last place that you wanted to talk was in the hallway, but his feet were planted and he wasn’t moving. Your fingers were still wrapped around his hand, but he was making no move on his part.

“You can’t - it’s not fair that you just threw all of that on me last night.” He whirled around, opening his mouth to argue, but you held up your free hand to silence him. “You just… You don’t know how fucking scared I am, Steve. Once August comes, everything is different. I’m heading off to college and you’re joining up with Hopper and we won’t be together. This is it and it’s fucking cruel to throw in that when it’s just going to hurt even worse when the times comes.” You were shaking a little as you stood there. You’d acknowledged that you were scared of leaving Hawkins and him, but with everything else, it was a hundred times worse.

“Wait, what do you think is going to happen?” You shook your head and shrugged your shoulders. “You think that we’re not going to be friends after August? That we’ll flush years of friendship down the toilet because we’re too lazy to call each other? Y/N/N, c’mon. You can’t be serious here.” His entire body had softened as he’d started to speak. His shoulders lost the tension in them, the fire in his eyes was muted. He just looked young and sad and tired.

“We’re not good at that kind of thing, Steve. We’re shit at keeping in touch with other people. Why would this be any different?”

“Because you have me.” The words took you back to that night in his car outside of Benny’s Diner, him asking you why you cared more about his sleep schedule than a girl with psychic powers. You glanced down at your hands, realizing that you hadn’t let go. His fingers finally threaded through yours, slotting together like they were made that way.

“What if we fuck this up, Steve? What if we try this whole thing out and we really fuck it up?” Steve furrowed his brow at you, leaning forward a little as confusion settled onto his features.

“What do you mean, try this whole thing? What whole thing? Staying in touch?”

“No. The other thing. The… together thing.” Your cheeks were a bright red by that point. Confrontation had never been your strong suit, but this was a whole other level of embarrassment.  

“What together thing? If I remember, last night you told me that we’re friends.”

“Yeah, don’t remind me of how you made that a bad thing.” Steve used his free hand to run his fingers through his hair, shaking his head a little as he looked down at his feet.

“I was just upset. You were telling me that I was full of it for telling you how I felt. You know that I know that being friends with you is the most important thing in my life.” His voice had gotten as soft as it had been last night, when his arm had been curled around your waist and his breath on your ear.

“You came on so strong, Steve. You just kept plowing through and I was already freaking out in general about leaving and then you… you say that and I panicked.” His thumb brushed against the back of your hand, a small comfort.

“Yeah, well you were telling me that I didn’t mean it, and I started panicking.” You let out a soft snort at that, more of a huff of laughter than anything else. “I’m sorry, though. I shouldn’t have stormed off like that. That wasn’t okay.” He paused once more, looking from the floor to you. “What together thing are you talking about, Y/N?”

“Can we not talk about it here? I just - the lights - and someone’s going to see us and I don’t want to… be here.” You let you babbling die off, fading into the quiet as Steve watched you. It took him a second or two to realize what you’d said, and then he was practically dragging you towards the parking lot. His fingers remained intertwined with yours, firm and secure as he lead the two of you into the bright, cold afternoon air. It was quiet between the two of you as you walked, heading towards the safe haven that was his car.

It remained quiet as you got into the passenger seat, staring ahead at the dusty dash while Steve rounded the car. It was still quiet as he got in, and as he turned on the engine and pulled out. Trees sped by the window as he drove through the quiet of Hawkins.

“Do you remember when I said that this was my seat, when you first got her?” You started, tapping the very seat that you were sitting on. Steve let out a soft hum, acknowledging that he heard you. “I didn’t realize it ‘til last night, but um, I… I think I feel the same about you. I can’t breathe at the thought of not talking to you. My best memories are in this car with you.” You were staring down at your lap, hands folded neatly there. It was better than looking at him, to see the emotions that would be flickering across his face. “I’m pretty sure that I fell in love with you in my passenger seat a long time ago and I’m kind of panicking right now. So, uh, yeah.”

The words had tumbled out of your mouth and hung in the air. There was no sound except for the soft rumble of the engine, and the occasional whizz  of a car speeding by. Steve didn’t talk, didn’t say a single word as you waited. After around a minute or so, he flicked on his turn signal and pulled over to the side of the road. You still didn’t say anything as he turned on his four-ways. He was the one that held the power to shift the balance. You weren’t going to let yourself sway him one way or another.

Still, he didn’t say anything, so eventually, you glanced over to him. He was staring at you, so intent that you tried to turn away. But he reached out and laid a hand on yours. It was quiet for a beat before he was leaning forward and pressing his lips against your lips. It wasn’t the soft, quiet, or gentle kiss that you would have thought he’d give. No, this was hard and insistent, reassuring you that there was no fucking chance that he was going anywhere at all. You scooted forward, pressing into the kiss with everything you had left. You rested a hand against his neck, the other tangling in his shirt as you tugged him closer.

The kiss screamed closer.

“I thought I was going crazy,” he breathed out, pulling away just enough to rest his forehead against yours. He was panting, chest heaving as he stared at you. His lips were swollen and red. “I could’ve sworn that I was going crazy and you didn’t -” You stopped him with another kiss. This one was sweet and soft, but still reassuring. Still letting him know that it was alright.

“I’m sorry I was a dick about it last night.” He let out a laugh, grinning wide before he pressed another kiss to your lips.

“Don’t be. We were both dicks.”

The two of you laughed, foreheads pressed against each other as the cold air slowly seeped back into the car. But neither of you minded.

Because the two of you didn’t know what was going to happen after school. You didn’t know what would happen over the summer, or where the fall would take you. But what you did know, was that it’d be okay.

Because you had each other.

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