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eldritch-thrumming · 1 year

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you smile that beautiful smile and all the girls in the front row scream your name.

i knew from the first note played i’d be breaking all my rules to see you. you smile that beautiful smile and all the girls in the front row scream your name. so dim that spotlight, tell me things like “i can’t take my eyes off of you.” i’m no one special, just another wide-eyed girl who’s desperately in love with you. give me a photograph to hang on my wall, superstar.

Eddie has three major rules when it comes to working with celebrities: 1. don’t flirt with the talent; 2. don’t hang out with the talent; 3. don’t, under any circumstances, fuck the talent.

He’s had enough rockstars’ managers kick him out of hotel rooms after waking up to an empty bed with cold sheets to have learned his lesson ten times over by now.

He doesn’t even think of adding a fourth rule: don’t fall in love with the talent. Has never even come close to needing a rule like that. Not until he meets Steve Harrington.

~*~

“Ed, I got a new one for ya, he’ll be here at two,” Eddie’s boss Murray says from the open doorway of Eddie’s office.

“Huh?” Eddie eloquently responds, mouth full of the banana he’d found in the office kitchen for lunch. “What?”

Murray rolls his eyes. He gets endlessly annoyed when it turns out no one can read his mind.

“New singer-songwriter coming in at two, asked for you specifically. Working on his second album, so look alive.” Murray tosses a demo in Eddie’s direction before departing the office and moving down the hallway towards his own. Eddie barely catches it just before the plastic corner gets him right in the eye.

This is the problem with Murray. He gives no details and leaves absolutely no room for follow-up questions. The other problem with Murray is that he waits until the last minute to spring shit on Eddie that he knows Eddie’s not going to like.

Eddie flips the plastic CD case around in his hand so he can read the words written in Sharpie on the front. ‘S. H. - 2’ is all it says, giving him absolutely no information. It’s already ten to two, so Eddie doesn’t even have time to listen to a single song if he wants to make it up the two floors to the conference room where he usually meets with the talent for the first time. Eddie scowls in annoyance; he hates being unprepared and he just knows Murray is conspiring against him somehow.

Eddie pushes up from his desk and leaves his office, heading for the elevator. He pressed the button for the 42nd floor. He likes to play this game where he tries to hold his breath for the duration of the elevator ride. Two floors is easy. The ride up to the 40th floor is a lot harder.

By the time Eddie makes it to the conference room, his appointment’s already in there. As he walks through the glass doors, he realizes that when Murray said “new,” he didn’t actually mean new. He meant, like, new to them.

Because sitting in the conference room at the head of the table is former boy band heartthrob Steve Harrington.

~*~

Eddie had never had Steve’s poster on his wall in high school or anything embarrassing like that, thank god. But he had kept one of the pages he’d ripped out of the library’s copy of Tiger Beat folded under his mattress for early morning daydreaming. And Eddie had certainly never listened to his music when he’d been in Teeny Boppers United or whatever the hell his band of cookie cutter boy-next-door types was called (he definitely knew).

Now, here Harrington is, sitting across the table from him, hair full of blond highlights and cherry lipgloss (Eddie thinks, imagines, hopes) on his lips.

“Um, hi. I’m, uh, Eddie. Munson. Eddie Munson,” Eddie holds out his hand for Steve to shake and Steve does. Eddie tells himself he’s imagining the way Steve’s eyes linger on him and how he takes just a second too long to pull his hand away.

Steve smiles, blinding and perfectly white. “Yeah, man, I know. My friend Robin has worked with you before? She had real great things to say,” Steve tells him and he sounds more sincere than a former-pop star asshole has any right to be.

“Buckley?” Eddie asks surprised, leaning back in his chair.

“Yeah, she’s been a huge help with my solo stuff. She co-wrote a few of the songs on my first album.” Steve drums his fingertips on the thick wood of the table.

“Huh.” The sound leaves Eddie against his will, as he’s trying to mask his surprise. Robin Buckley was talented and she had a sound that Eddie would never guess Steve Harrington would be into. She was indie, for sure, almost folk, bordering on a breathy country sound that Eddie thinks she’d deny if she heard him describe her like that. “I’m not entirely sure I’m what you’re looking for, to be honest with you.” He doesn’t know why he says it. He has no idea what Harrington’s sound is now that he’s broken free of the teenage bubblegum scene. But he’s always had a self-sabotaging streak a mile wide and he feels both relieved and disappointed to potentially have this out.

Steve frowns slightly, the crease between his eyes deepening. “Did you listen to the demo? I actually have this one song and I’m struggling with the bridge and, you know, not to, like, geek out or fan girl or whatever, but I’m, like, so into your sound and your lyrics and just the way you can construct a metaphor that seems so obvious when you hear it but is still so surprising in the context of the song it’s in and I think it would really complement what I’ve already started and…” Steve’s been gesturing wildly with his hands and must realize he’s rambling, because he trails off, blushing. “I mean. Did you listen?” He asks again.

“Honestly, Murray only just told me about this meeting about ten minutes before it started,” Eddie shrugs, but he feels bad about the way Steve’s shoulders fall.

“Ah, okay,” Steve pushes back from the table. “Yeah, okay. No worries.”

And Eddie feels, like, not great about this. He doesn’t like the disappointment he can see etched across Steve’s handsome features. So he reaches a hand across the vast wooden table, gesturing for Steve to stop.

“Wait,” he says, hand raised between them. “Listen, I’m… skeptical, to say the least. But. I’ll listen to your demo tonight, okay? And I’ll let you know what I think tomorrow. Is that… does that work?”

Steve nods quickly. “Yeah, dude. Yeah, that’s awesome. Thank you. Um. Do you… did Murray give you my number?”

“Here,” Eddie slides his notebook and pen across the table.

Steve picks up the pen, scrawling across the entire notebook page, before sliding it back toward Eddie. “My, uh, personal number.” Steve runs as hand through his highlighted hair. “I’m really looking forward to hearing your thoughts. Thanks, Eddie.” He reaches out again to shake Eddie’s hand and this time, Eddie knows he doesn’t imagine the way Steve’s fingers linger on his palm.

Eddie clears his throat. “Talk soon,” he says, smiling, before Steve is turning and leaving the room.

~*~

Eddie had gone to LA with stars in his eyes and big dreams circling his head. He’d had hopes of making it big, of thousands of people screaming his name. It had sounded so good back then, when he'd been trailer trash in the smallest, most close-minded town in the American Midwest. And it had kind of happened. He’d recorded an entire album, had even had a national tour. But he’d realized fairly quickly that it wasn’t what he’d really wanted. Performing was fun, but what he really cared about was the song-writing. The way a perfectly constructed verse could speak to someone, on a deep, intimate, important level. That’s why he cared about music, that’s why it had always been so important to him. It wasn't the performing or the flashing bulbs of cameras or the after parties filled with people who wanted to get close to fame. It was the songs. It was the words and the meanings behind them. It was what it all meant, down to the end of it all.

So Eddie had changed course. He’d begun song-writing instead, freelancing at first, selling a song here and a collab there. Until he’d been approached by Murray Bauman, who’d heard what he’d done on a Taylor Swift track and was impressed. Murray had offered him a job in New York, writing and producing, an office and a salary for the first time in his life. And Eddie loved what he got to do now, loved the tracks he produced for other people to sing. He’d thought it would feel strange, like he was missing out on something, but it didn’t. It just felt good.

That had been five years ago and now here he is, sliding Steve Harrington’s demo into the CD player in his living room. He presses play and crosses the room to grab a beer from his kitchen. Just as he's crossing the threshold between rooms, he hears the first three notes of the song and it stops him in his tracks. He tilts his head back toward the stereo.

Because the song isn't the sound of a boy band lead gone solo, belting out pop lyrics that would guarantee major radio play. This song is soft and melancholy, the poetic lyrics of a chorus crafted with vulnerability, a complicated bridge that ties it all together. The song ends and shifts, the guitar twang taking on a pop rock tempo, more upbeat than the last song. Steve's voice comes out, deep and honey-sweet, different than his boy band days. The lyrics are still sadder than Eddie would have thought and Eddie's impressed by the words juxtaposed with the upbeat instrumentals and the tone of Steve's vocals.

Eddie listens to all four songs standing there in the doorway between his living room and kitchen. Can't bear to tear himself away. And when the fourth and final song is over, Eddie crosses the room to click 'play' all over again.

~*~

Eddie waits to call Steve. He wants to call him immediately after his third listen, but he figures that it would be a bad idea to interrupt a client’s dinner or date or whatever former pop stars do on Thursday nights.

He spends all day at the office the next day listening to Steve’s first album on repeat. He thinks he can tell where Robin had helped with the lyrics, can see the ways the two of them have come together, and he can hear how their voices complement each other on the track she’s featured on. He listens to it on repeat for hours, before swapping it out for the new demo all over again. He thinks he can trace the way Steve’s voice has evolved since the first album, can see the places where his song-writing has matured. He spends the weekend deconstructing each song, finding the spots of vulnerability and the developed self-confidence that allows that vulnerability to take center stage. He feels a little guilty for not calling Steve, but he can’t imagine Steve’s sitting by the phone or anything anyway.

But the end of the weekend, Eddie knows he can’t say no to Steve Harrington. He knows that he has to be a part of this album, no matter what. That this project is going to be something magical, something unimaginable.

First thing Monday morning, Eddie calls Steve and makes a deal.

~*~

“Fuck, you have no idea how happy I am to hear from you,” Eddie hears Steve breathe down the phone line. “I’m such a huge fan and hearing what you did with Robin… I was worried you were gonna say no, y’know? When I didn’t hear from you?”

Eddie smiles to himself, small and involuntary. He’d never thought he’d hear Steve Harrington sounding so earnest.

“Well, to tell you the truth, I was just about ready to say no.” Eddie runs a hand through his hair and then shifts his phone from one ear to the other. “But I gave your demo a listen and I revisited your first album and I gotta tell you, I think there’s something really special there. I’m excited to see what we come up with.” He’s downplaying this, he knows it, but he doesn’t want to seem too eager. He doesn’t want Steve to know that he’ll probably die if he doesn’t get to work on this album. That’s probably a little too over dramatic, even for Eddie.

He hears Steve suck in a breath, can’t tell if that’s good or bad. “Dude, thank you. I’m so excited. This means a lot to me. Thanks, man.”

“Alright, well, I’m gonna have my assistant call you in a few days to set up some meetings and get everything worked out, timeline-wise. I’ll be in touch soon.” Eddie has to get off the phone now, before he says something dumb as fuck.

“Awesome. Thanks again, Eddie,” Steve replies, before there’s nothing but a dial tone.

~*~

Eddie has Chrissy set up all the meetings, scheduling studio time and booking out the conference room.

For months, Eddie’s life revolves around Steve Harrington. All he can think about are what chord progressions will have Steve’s voice sounding its best, all heavy and sweet, or what rhyme scheme the chorus should have to enhance its emotional tenor in the way Steve wants.

They record together, Steve in the booth and Eddie at the console. Sometimes Robin joins them, happy to take on second guitar and suggest a new phrasing for a line that’s giving them trouble.

Steve enlists the same band he’d used on his first album and Eddie’s kind of impressed by how well they all seem to get along. How committed they are to helping Steve figure out the vision for this album.

Towards the end of recording—long months spent trying new things, taking out second guitar here, adding a keyboard track in there—Steve convinces Eddie to play lead guitar on one of the tracks they wrote together. It’s one of the unfinished ones from the demo Eddie had been so enchanted by, the one that Steve had said was giving him trouble on the bridge. They’d spent long nights in Eddie’s office ordering late-night pizzas and trying to figure out how to make the song work. Eddie was so frustrated he was about to suggest they just scrap the whole thing until Steve started drumming on one of the discarded pizza boxes, humming along with a switched-up melody, a reversal of what they already had, a dramatic shift from chorus to bridge and back again. Eddie couldn’t do anything but stare and then the words were coming, Steve finishing his sentences when Eddie stumbled searching for the right word. By morning, the song was finished.

Eddie agrees to play, if only because he loves the song so much, so proud of the work they’d put into it. It has nothing to do with the way Steve’s sweet smile spreads over his face or the faint pinkness Eddie can see rising in his cheeks. In the end, Eddie’s even convinced to lend his vocals to the song. He doesn’t let himself think about how good they sound together, Steve’s deep voice belting out the lyrics with Eddie’s softer cadence just underneath.

~*~

Steve goes out on tour almost immediately after they finish recording. The record label says there’s so much buzz around the album, so much anticipation, that they should strike while the iron is hot.

“Don’t forget about me out there on the road,” Eddie jokes, voice light and airy. He and Steve are at his favorite coffee shop, just down the street from his offices.

“Could never,” Steve tells him, smiling, tone just on the wrong side of serious. He takes a sip of his coffee.

They’ve been dancing around each other for months, probably since they’d started recording if Eddie’s really honest with himself. But Eddie has rules and he’s been burned before. So when they’ve finished their coffee, they part ways. Eddie wishes Steve luck on his tour and Steve says he’ll be in touch.

Eddie’s life goes back to normal.

~*~

They text sporadically. Eddie doesn’t mind. He remembers how chaotic and stressful tour had been when he’d done it and he hadn’t been nearly as huge as Steve is now. Eddie knows it’s an endless parade of meet-and-greets and sound checks and dress rehearsals, one day blending into another. He’s surprised Steve even reaches out to him at all.

Steve is set to perform the last show of his tour at Madison Square Garden. Eddie thinks about showing up, grabbing the free tickets he gets as part of the job and surprising Steve. He thinks about it a lot actually, all five months Steve’s gone, fantasizes about how Steve might greet him, how he’d pull him into the green room backstage and…

A week before the show, Steve calls him.

“Hey, man!” Steve sounds winded and breathy. “How’s it going?”

“Oh, y’know, same old same old.” Eddie tries to sound as casual as possible, but he can’t control the grin that spreads across his lips.

Steve laughs. “Yeah, I bet. Hey, listen, I only have a minute, but I was wondering if you’d be open to, uh. Coming to my show at the Garden?” Eddie thinks he might be imagining the nervous lilt to Steve’s voice, the unsure way he poses the question.

“Yeah, man, of course. I’d love to be there.”

“Great! I’ll text you the details.” Eddie doesn’t even have time to say goodbye before Steve has hung up on him.

~*~

The night of the concert, Eddie shows up backstage, feeling just a little out of place. He’d bypassed the front of house, but he hadn’t missed the line of young women and girls snaking out of the venue doors and onto the streets of Manhattan. He had known Steve was big, but he hadn’t imagined it would be like this.

A woman with short blonde hair leads Eddie into the green room. Steve’s getting his makeup done, but when he sees Eddie in the reflection of the mirror, his eyes light up and he smiles, wide and goofy. He pushes up from his chair and crosses the room, moving to pull Eddie into a hug before Eddie can even say anything, arms looped around Eddie’s neck. Steve is warm against him, his muscles firm and soft—a strange juxtaposition—as Eddie wraps his own arms around Steve’s waist.

“So happy you’re here,” Steve whispers against his ear, breath hot. Eddie can’t even react before Steve’s pulling away, crossing back over to his chair and dropping himself into it. Steve looks at Eddie in the reflection, their eyes meeting. “I have a favor to ask.” Steve suddenly sounds hesitant, fingers fidgeting in his lap.

“Oh, no,” Eddie jokes, winking at Steve in the mirror. “What is it this time?”

Steve blushes. “I know you don’t really perform anymore, but I was hoping you’d help me out with our song? It’s the last song of the show.”

The words our song echo in Eddie’s ears and he can’t help his smile. Sure, he doesn’t really perform anymore, but, he realizes in this moment, he’d do pretty much anything for Steve. The thought should be terrifying, but somehow it isn’t.

“Dude, that’s awesome.” Eddie watches Steve practically sag in relief. “I’d love to.”

Before long, Steve is being rushed around, manhandled on his way to the stage, and Eddie is left to follow behind so he can watch from the wings.

Eddie had thought he’d known Steve. They’d written and recorded together for months, felt every emotion possible in the time it had taken them to complete the album. But watching Steve perform is something else entirely. Steve glows under the harsh stage lights, smiling and charismatic as he jokes with the girls in the front row vying for his attention. It’s magical to watch Steve perform the songs they’d made together, to sing words from Eddie’s own brain. Eddie is transfixed by the way Steve’s lips wrap around each note, like each word that comes out of his mouth is the most important word that’s ever been spoken. Steve is otherworldly on stage.

“For the last song, I have a surprise,” Steve stops in front of the mic stand as someone rushes to bring him his favorite guitar. He pulls the strap over his head. Someone on the side of the stage nudges Eddie, holding out a guitar that Eddie’s never seen before. If he’d known about this, he would have brought his own beloved sweetheart, but he’ll have to make do with what he has. No backing out now. “You’ve probably heard of Eddie Munson.” Steve smiles as the crowd cheers. “Yeah, he’s a huge deal. He’s worked with everyone from Taylor Swift and Phoebe Bridgers to Bruce Springsteen and Metallica.” The crowd cheers again. “I worked really closely with him on this album,” Steve smiles. “And he took something raw and messy and made it so fucking great.” The crowd screams. “I always close the show with my favorite song off the album. It’s the one that took us the longest to write. We were so frustrated, I thought Eddie was gonna tell me to just forget it. We spent so many all-nighters stuffing our faces with pizza and cursing ourselves for ever even thinking we should write this stupid fucking song.” Steve laughs with the crowd. “But then, one night it all clicked. It all came together. It was like magic, sitting there with Eddie on some ugly couch in his office, just about ready to give up. We made magic together.” Steve looks out at the crowd. “So. Eddie’s here to help me share this song with you.” The crowd goes wild as someone pushes Eddie out onto the stage, but Eddie’s eyes are fixed on Steve, who’s smiling at him from under the lights, eyes crinkling in the corners.

Playing the song is easier than Eddie had thought it would be. The notes come to him like muscle memory, like he could play this song in his sleep. He can’t take his attention away from Steve where he sings into the microphone. It’s all too much for his heart to handle. He feels like he might die here, right on the spot.

Just as suddenly as it had started, it’s all over. The crowd is deafening and Eddie’s got a smile on his face so wide his cheeks ache. Steve waves to the crowd before taking Eddie’s hand and leading him off stage.

“Fuck,” Steve breathes out, pulling Eddie along down the backstage hallways back towards the green room. “That was un-fucking-real.” Steve’s smiling, cheeks red.

Eddie can’t say anything at all. All he can do is follow helplessly behind Steve, the adrenaline pumping through his veins. His heartbeat so loud he’s sure Steve can hear it.

They’re back in the green room before Eddie can even blink. Suddenly, his back is pressed up against the closed door, Steve practically plastered to his front. He can barely breathe as Steve’s lips crash into his.

“Is this okay?” Steve asks, pulling back slightly. His breath is hot against Eddie’s lips. “Been thinking about you for months.” His voice is soft, barely there.

“Fuck yeah,” Eddie groans, running a hand through Steve’s hair, trying to pull him back in. “It’s so okay, Stevie.”

Steve lets out a groan of his own and then he’s kissing Eddie again, lips parting and tongue curling against Eddie’s.

Eddie’s not sure how long they stand there pressed up against the wall, hands tangled in hair, kissing each other breathless. All too soon a knock comes from the other side of the door and they jump apart.

“Steve?” A muffled voice calls out from the hallway. “You have a meet-and-greet in five.”

Steve looks at Eddie, laughing a little. “Fuck, sorry, I forgot,” he whispers, before raising his voice to respond to whoever’s outside, “Okay, just a minute!” He kisses Eddie one last time, soft and so sweet. “Come with me?” He asks.

Eddie nods and follows after Steve.

~*~

Eddie watches from the sidelines as Steve takes picture after picture. It’s kind of uncanny, the way Steve’s smile seems genuine in every photo he takes, the interest he seems to take in every person who comes to meet him.

The line has dwindled down when the next group of fans catch sight of Eddie in the shadows. “Oh my god!” One of the girls squeals, before turning toward Steve. “Can we get a picture with you and Eddie?”

Steve laughs, already nodding, before turning towards Eddie. “You mind?” He asks, holding his hand out for Eddie. Eddie slides his hand into Steve’s and has his picture taken.

~*~

After, Steve invites Eddie back to his fancy hotel room, but Eddie counters by inviting Steve to his apartment. Steve’s face brightens, clearly excited to see where Eddie lives. Eddie tries to mentally envision how he’d left his apartment, thinks it’s probably safe for world-famous superstars to visit.

They take Steve’s car, his driver dutifully ignoring whatever’s going on in the back seat, and by the time they make it up the six floors to Eddie’s door, they can’t keep their hands off each other. They crash through the front door, attached at the lips. They stumble down the hallway to Eddie’s bedroom and Eddie all but tackles Steve down into the sheets.

The next morning, Steve insists on making a homemade breakfast. Eddie rarely cooks, but by some miracle, he’s got eggs and bacon in his fridge. Eddie knows he’s got a dopey look on his face as he sits at the kitchen table, chin in his hand, watching Steve move around his space.

Later, when they’re curled up together on the couch and Steve is dozing against his chest, Eddie scrolls through his Instagram feed. He’s tagged in a ton of photos from the night before, up on stage with Steve, eyes fixed on each other as they play their guitars, crisscrossing beams of light all around them. He scrolls for a few more moments, before he sees the picture they’d taken together at the meet-and-greet, with the three girls who’d asked for a picture with Steve and Eddie. Steve’s blushing, his hand still holding Eddie’s, a wide smile on his face. Eddie’s just as flushed, eyes glassy, but he’s not even looking at the camera, face turned toward Steve instead. He looks lovestruck. It would be embarrassing, but Steve shifts in his arms, letting out a tiny little sound from the back of his throat.

Eddie screenshots the photo and saves it to his camera roll.

~*~

@thecaptainsgingersnap gave me “dealer's choice lyrics from Superstar” :)

This turned out waaaaayyyyyyy longer than I originally planned, so I probably should’ve split it into two posts, but here we are. Hope you enjoy it!!

#in this universe eddie munson co-wrote tolerate it #i know what song they wrote together but I’m keeping it to myself lol #steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie fanfic #steddie fanfiction #steddie ficlet #stranger things fanfiction #steddie fluff #steddie fic rec #steve harrington x eddie munson

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steddielations · 2 years

Text

It’s the stupid Garfield mug that does it.

Eddie tries to hide it because he doesn’t want to seem ungrateful to Steve, but he gets lonely sometimes.

He’s still in hiding, mostly healed up from the bats, staying with Steve while they wait for Hopper to sweep it all under the rug. No one would ever expect Eddie Munson to be at Steve Harrington’s house, it’s the perfect cover.

Not only was Steve surprisingly nice enough to let Eddie stay there, he also took care of him through the worst of it. He didn’t seem to mind having to stay home every night and every weekend, definitely not what Eddie was expecting from the party boy he used to hate from afar.

Now Steve’s the nice guy who spoon-fed Eddie soup and gave him orange juice through a damn straw and even helped him to the bathroom when he could barely move.

He’s too nice and sweet and funny sometimes. He even has a beat up copy of Lord of the Rings from Dustin that he squints at until Eddie gets tired of watching him strain, then let’s Eddie read to him. Eddie knows Steve does it more for him than for himself. Hell, Steve even comes home right after work most days, just to keep Eddie company.

Eddie can’t have many visitors, they don’t want to raise suspicion with too much traffic at Steve’s house, so it’s mostly just him and Steve. Eddie doesn’t mind, he’s halfway in love with him and gets closer to falling head over heels every day. He loves being here with Steve but sometimes… Steve reminds him of Wayne.

Every morning, Steve watches the news. Eddie teased him about it, saying he has the soul of a middle aged Dad. It’s stupid, but watching Steve mosey around the living room before work, drinking coffee and getting absorbed in the TV when an interesting story comes on, it makes Eddie miss Wayne, who does the exact same thing.

It’s so stupid how it’s simple things that make Eddie feel 2 seconds away from breaking. Not having to be quiet during the day because Wayne’s not there sleeping after his night shift. Looking at the wall and not seeing Wayne’s endless collection of hats and mugs. Not hearing the squeak of the old couch when Wayne sits down to take his boots off.

It’s so stupid but it all makes Eddie’s chest feel so tight and empty he can hardly breathe.

But he’s grateful to Steve for letting him be here, so he doesn’t dare complain about what’s missing when Steve’s already given him so much.

One morning, Eddie’s sitting on the counter and Steve gives him his coffee. It’s just how Eddie likes it, sweet and creamy, but he can’t drink it.

Steve used a different mug than usual, and Eddie can’t stop staring at it, orange and round. Wayne has one like it. It reminds Eddie of the Garfield mug that hangs by the door in their trailer. That tight feeling gnaws at his chest, and he sits there staring at it so long his coffee goes cold.

“Everything okay, Eds? Did I not put enough sugar or something? Do you need a straw again today?”

Steve’s voice startles him out of his thoughts, he flinches and the mug slips out of his hand, falling to the kitchen tile, shattered.

Eddie curses while Steve rushes to clean it up, telling him to stay put when he tries to get down and help.

That, too, reminds Eddie of Wayne.

He can’t help it then, he just laughs. It feels tight in his throat, sounds almost painful, but he laughs so hard he feels tears prickling the corner of his eyes.

Steve just stares at him, leaving the broken mug in his concern for Eddie, asking carefully, “Hey, what’s so funny? You alright?”

Eddie shakes his head, laughs dying down. “You know those mugs on the wall at my trailer?”

Steve looks confused, nodding.

“They’re Wayne’s, he collects them. I used to tell him it was lame and he should invest in something cool like hanging guitars or records,” Eddie goes on, grinning, reminiscing, “He’d always just laugh and tell me that cliche line, one man’s trash is another man’s treasure, boy. I never understood you buying all them amps either, paying money to make noise.”

Steve smiles but he’s still watching Eddie carefully.

“Those damn mugs,” Eddie laughs again, rubbing his eyes, “There’s a Garfield one that leaks from how many times I knocked it over running out the door trying not to be late to school, and Wayne had to superglue it back together. He’d never even get mad about it, just snap at me to be careful because he didn’t want me getting hurt.”

Eddie laughs even harder, his chest twisting and writhing but it feels good, like he’s finally letting himself breathe, gasping for air. He doesn’t know when his laughs turn into sobs, but he assumes it’s around the time when Steve steps forward and gently wraps him in a hug.

They’ve never hugged before. Eddie doesn’t know how he could miss something he’s never had but that’s what hugging Steve feels like. He’s missing his Uncle, he’s missing a piece of himself but he feels close to complete somehow right there in Steve’s arms. He holds on tight, smearing tears into Steve’s t-shirt.

“I miss him, Steve,” he sniffs, bottom lip wobbling, “I miss those damn mugs.”

“I know,” Steve rubs his back, soothing, “I promise you'll see him again, Eds. And those damn mugs.”

Eddie laughs wetly and squeezes him tighter.

Within the next week, Steve keeps his promise.

Eddie almost drops to his knees when he sees it, has to rub his eyes to make sure he’s not imagining it, but it’s there.

Right there on the wall in the Harrington living room, there’s three mugs hanging up. Not just any mugs, Eddie recognizes all three. A green one that used to hang next to Wayne’s coat, an Indiana State one that went above the couch, and the cracked up Garfield one that leaks next to the trailer door.

“Steve, what—”

“I tried to get more, but Wayne was already suspicious by my third visit this week,” Steve shrugs innocently, “It’s just like home, right?”

Eddie’s torn between bursting into tears or laughter at the thought of Steve sneaking out of his trailer with coffee mugs in his pocket one by one, “You stole my Uncles mugs, Harrington?”

“I figured he’ll forgive me when I bring his nephew back safe and sound soon,” Steve smiles, charming as ever, “And if he presses charges, well, it’ll be worth it just seeing the look on your face right now.”

Eddie's chest spreads with warmth, his heart so full it could almost burst.

“Get over here, you little thief.”

Steve's grinning as he strolls right over to Eddie and wraps his arms around him. They've hugged a lot since that first time, but they've never kissed before, not even in Eddie's wildest dreams has he kissed Steve Harrington, but it's happening.

Eddie can't describe it, feeling Steve's lips on his, safe in his arms, warm in his embrace, but it feels a little bit like home.

#here's some free eddie angst with a dash of comfort from steve yum #steddie #steddie ficlet #steddie fanfiction #steddie headcanon #steddie fluff #eddie munson #rueswriting #my fic #mp #steve harrington #steveddie #stranger things 4 #eddie x steve #steddie fic rec #wayne munson #my fics

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benedictbridgertonss · 10 days

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Stranger Things fic recommendations

(New fic rec layout 2/6/24) Last updated: 2/6/24 Main fic rec masterlist Steve Harrington: Facade , Facade the sequel - @familyvideowithsteve (18+ MDNI) Come Home - @stevie-petey Adventures in Babysitting - @worth-the-chaos Dancing with our hands tied - @andvys (18+ MDNI) Should We Stay or Should We Go - @skyfallslayer Hard to Kill - @thecreelhouse (18+ MDNI) Petals for Armour - @maroon-cardigan (18+ MDNI) Robin Buckley: Coming Soon Billy Hargrove: Coming Soon

#stranger things #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington stranger things #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #billy hargrove #robin buckley #stranger things fic #fic rec

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thefreakandthehair · 4 months

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we feel a little warmer now.

rating: teen & up | wc: 1.1k | tags: canon-typical injuries, pre-relationship, getting together, fluff, light hurt/comfort | prompt: love is a fire that never goes out @steddielovemonth & a happy birthday gift for @henderdads! title from the woods, by hollow coves.

February in Indiana is still the dead of winter— cornfields are barren, trees sway in the wind without their leaves, and the sky seems to have a sheer layer of grey even on the cloudless days.

Eddie’s always loved winter. The shorter days followed by longer nights, snowy Sundays, watching the smoke from a joint or cigarette dance in the freezing air, and excuses to do donuts in the local abandoned grocery store parking lot. He’s always loved winter, or at least he did until his world shattered at his feet, leaving him with injuries that take ages to heal and scars that leave him perpetually cold.

It’s been difficult to explain, even to the people who’d lived it with him. He can’t fully enjoy winter anymore because the cold seeps into his bones, maybe through the scars, maybe just because of the nerve damage. He’ll never know for sure because Hawkins General doesn’t exactly have a Demobat Specialist on staff so he just keeps it to himself.

Well, mostly. Steve knows.

Hiding anything from Steve has proven impossible. His constant chill, his frustration with the new but still-improving limp, the grief, the guilt, the confusing simultaneous euphoria of survival. The only secret he’s managed to keep is the big fat crush he’s harbored, probably since Steve helped find him in the woods.

Maybe earlier. Maybe since high school. He tries not to think about it too much.

The point is, Steve knows and even if Eddie hasn’t said that it breaks his heart to lose the quiet winter nights smoking on the porch or the hood of his van, Steve figures that out, too.

He must, because Eddie nearly jumps out of his freezing skin when knuckles rap on the front door of his and Wayne’s new trailer. There’s a system these days: check the peep hole, crack the door with the chain still attached to confirm, and only then does Eddie open the door completely. An unfortunate system, but he’s far from the town hero that Steve’s been hailed as, albeit against his will.

Speaking of, through the peep hole, he sees Steve standing on his porch wrapped in what looks like a thick hoodie and winter coat.

“Who goes there?” Eddie asks, cracking the door and peering out with one eye.

“It’s me, you ass. Let me in, I have a surprise.”

The door chain unhooks with a metallic click and Steve enters the trailer like he belongs there.

Because he does, Eddie thinks.

“A surprise? For me? Oh, do tell.”

Steve stands in the living room, a live wire if Eddie’s ever seen one. His hair is a little messy, as though he’s been raking his fingers through it. His nose is pink, complemented by his frosty cheeks, and his eyes are wide and wild.

“If it’s overstepping or whatever, we can pretend I never mentioned it but I know how much you miss winter nights. And I uh, I built a fire pit at my house?” His voice pitches up, as though it’s a question.

“You built a fire pit? Today?”

Steve nods. “Yeah. It was a lot easier than I thought it would be honestly, time consuming but, yeah. I built a fire pit. And I was thinking that maybe with the fire and some blankets and a good jacket— a real winter coat, not just your leather jacket— you might be able to get some of that back.”

Eddie tries his best not to think about Steve lugging brick pavers and forcing them into place, thinking about Eddie and his stupid broken internal thermostat. Wanting to give him back something the Upside Down took. Worrying Eddie would somehow see this as overstepping.

It’s a quick Yes and even quicker drive to Loch Nora, a drive that Eddie’s always found hilarious. How can two neighborhoods exist so close together but feel like different worlds?

The whole way there, Eddie keeps Steve talking. If Steve’s talking, there’s less room for Eddie to spill yet another truth inadvertently, the only one left to spill. Instead, he asks questions about work, and Robin, and if he’s heard from his parents.

(“It sucks,” “she’s great,” “nope”. In that order.)

Pulling into the driveway, Eddie hops out of the car as best he can in one of Wayne’s old winter coats and follows Steve to the backyard. His jaw drops when he sees exactly what Steve’s done. More than a simple circle of bricks, there’s a pit made of concrete blocks in the center of a larger circle filled with wood chips and grey pavers marking the perimeter. Wood logs are already split in a pile off to the side next to two lawn chairs and dear God, Eddie really hopes that Steve bought that already split. He’s still not over him swinging on demobats with his bare hands, and the image of him with an axe is enough to put him down for good.

“C’mon, I’ll get it started,” Steve nudges their shoulders together and walks through the pit to the stack of logs.

Steve gets a roaring fire going, the kind that cracks and burns both red and blue, and passes Eddie an extra blanket. Flames dance beneath the clear sky, speckled with stars that do little to distract him from how unbearably warm he is for the first time in months.

People don’t just do things like this for him, not without expectation or out of obligation. So much of Eddie’s life has felt like a spectrum spanning from pity to transactional with very few exceptions in between.

Then again, Steve feels like an exception to a lot of things.

“Why?” Eddie eventually asks, exhaling a puff of cigarette smoke like a kid seeing his breath.

Steve shrugs and tosses the butt of his own cigarette into the flames. “You lost enough down there, and I know how that feels. If there’s something easy enough to fix, I want to. You deserve that.”

Eddie turns and sees Steve smiling, just a soft upturn of his lips as he looks up at the sky. His face is flushed and Eddie wants to think it’s not from the flames.

“You’re really something, you know that?” Eddie says, scooting his chair over close enough for the arms of their chairs to nearly touch.

Steve looks back from the sky to Eddie, long lashes and the scar on his neck on full display.

“That a good thing?”

Eddie nods. “Oh yeah, definitely. Maybe the best thing.”

They sit outside for hours, eventually sharing a blanket draped around their shoulders and a first kiss that lights him up from the inside.

Eddie’s warm long after the fire burns out.

#steddie #steddie fic #steddie fanfic #steddie fanfiction #steve harrington x eddie munson #eddie munson x steve harrington #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #steddielovemonth #myblurbs #please consider reblogging if you enjoy <3 #also the song really lends a vibe to this and it's one of my favs so consider this a music rec too lmao

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little-annie · 11 months

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Watching You Fall in Love (is My Greatest Achievement)

Steddie Fic | Wayne POV | Little_Annie | Ao3

---

"You love him don't you?" Wayne whispers, breathy, quiet, his voice cracking around the edges of something that feels like raw emotion.

It's then that Eddie turns his gaze away from Steve to look at him, the light never fading from his eyes and the smile never wiping from his face.

Steve's sitting on the trailer floor, in the middle of the living room, Eddie's clothes hanging from his body as he flips through one of Eddie's many monster manuals. Wayne knows the boy would never admit it, but he's just as interested in D&D as the other kids. He's helping Eddie plan his next campaign for christ sake.

Next to Wayne, two cans of coke in hand and a love struck smile on his face, Eddie nods, his cheeks darkening as his smile ever so slightly fades. "Is that okay?" He asks, looking all the bit nervous as his eyes roam Wayne's face.

"More than okay Son."

Eddie's smile brightens once again and if Wayne notices the small amount of tears welling in his eyes, he says nothing about.

"You ever going to tell him?" Wayne continues, nodding in Steve's direction, the boy still oblivious to the conversation being whispered behind his back.

"I don't know if I can."

Wayne says nothing to Eddie's reply as he watches the boy return to the living room where he sits down next to his best friend. Steve smiling bright as the sun upon Eddie's return.

—

Months go by and Wayne gets to watch as Steve falls too. It's there and so obvious to anyone but Eddie.

His eyes linger and his smile never fades. Soon Wayne sees as he sits a little closer and his cheeks grow a little darker.

There's moments when Wayne catches what he can only describe as a love struck expression across Steve's face. Eddie's talking, because when is he not, and Steve's there, eyes wide and locked onto Eddie's ever changing expression.

He looks fond. Fond in a way Wayne's never seen anyone look at his nephew.

There's moments when he sees Steve hesitant. Moments when he and Eddie are so close and Steve's hand twitches like it wants to reach out. Moments when Steve looks like he wants to lean in but bites his lip and turns away with rosy cheeks.

—

It's nearly a year into their friendship when Steve's standing at Wayne's side and whispers, "I think I love him."

"Tell him," Wayne answers easily, leaving out the 'please' he so desperately wants to tack onto the end of that sentence.

Please, he thinks again as he watches Eddie turn to face them from across the yard, a smile so beautiful Wayne thinks it's the first time he's seen it on Eddie's face. The boy's elbow deep in his van as his cheeks grow a little pinker as he says with a smile, "Stevie come here for a sec."

Steve leaves, but not before whispering back to Wayne, "I think I will."

—

No more than a week later Wayne comes home to find the boys on the couch, Steve sleeping and curled into Eddie's side, snoring with his nose pressed to Eddie's neck.

Wayne offers his boy a smile as he stirs from the sound of the door closing. He looks tired, arms tightening around Steve's waist as he smiles back and burrows closer, kissing the top of Steve's head before drifting back off.

—

"He loves me," Eddie says one evening, weeks down the road, a rare occasion when Steve isn't over and Eddie's actually home.

Wayne smiles, his heart so warm and full as he says, "I know."

—

Steve's been over for a few weeks now. Part of Wayne's convinced he's moved in, what with the new additions to their fridge and bathroom vanity. The idea doesn't upset him in the least.

He's gotten to witness their love grow during that time anyway.

He's gotten to witness the way Steve kisses a grumpy Eddie good morning until he finally smiles.

Or the way Eddie lights up when Steve's arms wrap around his waist and he whispers an "I love you Eds," that Wayne isn't sure if he's supposed to hear.

Or the way they giggle and kiss and love one another in such a beautiful and uninhibited way.

Granted too, sometimes that means Wayne's hears a bit too much. Eddie would be mortified to know there's been far too many occasions in which Wayne's had to leave the trailer to escape the gasping breaths that occasionally pour out from under his bedroom door.

Though this time, Wayne's inside as the boys are on the roof smoking and he thanks the lord above that all he can hear are the faintest of whispers.

There's only parts of the conversation that he catches, but his heart swells when he hears Eddie's voice so clearly say, "I'm gonna marry you someday Steve Harrington."

—

Wayne cries the day Eddie shows him the ring.

And cries even harder when Steve shows him his.

Steve's hand is shaking where the single golden band lies on his ring finger, Eddie standing directly behind him, arm around his waist with a smile that matches Steve's in the way it resembles Sunshine.

They can't marry, not legally anyways. But that doesn't stop Jim Hopper from officiating a ceremony or Joyce Byers from walking Steve down the aisle.

The backyard to Hoppers cabin is filled with faces Wayne has grown familiar with over the years. Young and old, smiling and crying all the same.

Dustin and Robin both write speeches, both as rambling and as funny as they are beautifully heart wrenching.

There's not a dry eye in the house.

—

The boys move into an apartment where they build a life together.

Wayne visits often for meals or a cup of coffee in the mornings, still delighting in the way his Eddie seems so wonderfully overcome with love and affection.

He'd thought he'd shed enough tears for his lifetime at the wedding, but one evening, sat at the table with Robin Buckley and his boys, Wayne finds out he's gonna be a grandpa.

Elaine Birdie Munson is her name.

Sunshine, they call her instead.

---

Ao3⤵️

#stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #steddie fanfiction #steddie #steddie fic #steddie fic rec #strangerthings #stranger things fic rec #steddie ficlet #stranger things ficlet #eddie x steve #eddie munson #steve harrington #uncle wayne #wayne munson #uncle wayne pov #supportive uncle wayne #steddie fandom #steddie fluff

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theshireisburning-so-mordoritis · 1 year

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STRANGER THINGS FIC RECS: TAKE TWO

PLEASE READ AND RESPECT THE AGE RESTRICTIONS ON THE FICS AND THE AUTHOR'S BLOGS, IF YOU AREN'T 18+ DNI. ALSO PLEASE READ ANY WARNINGS ON THE FICS BEFORE INTERACTING.

STEVE HARRINGTON

ONESHOTS

Eyes Half Shut

Laugh Like Lovers, Kiss Like Friends

Both by @crappymixtape

Hands On You by 18+ @usedtobecooler

We Fight To Make Up 18+ by @lovebugism

More Than Just Friends 18+ by @scoopsahoy

Peanut Butter Vibe 18+ by @carolmunson

Filthy Whispers 18+ by @fettuccin-e

SERIES

A Couple Days In (I Call You Baby) // Part 2 18+

Sweetness // Part 2 18+

Both by @upsidedownwithsteve

Dark Honey // Part 2 by @caxde

EDDIE MUNSON

ONESHOTS

Whatta Man 18+ by @loveshotzz

Tug At My Heart 18+ by @wipkinz

Cool With It 18+ by @chainsawmunson

Western Nights 18+ by @rosemaremembrance

Black Dahlias by 18+ @munsons-curls

SERIES

Twenty-Four Hours 18+ by @ghost-proofbaby

I Want You To Want Me // Part 2 18+ by @upsidedownwithsteve

Trapped Under Ice // Part 2 18+ by @munson-blurbs

Honey, I'm Home 18+ by @trashmouth-richie

Don't Stand So Close To Me 18+ by @word-wytch

Trouble // Control 18+ by @imjuststeddietrashatthispoint

#fic recs #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #steve harrington fanfic #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfiction

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morningberriesao3 · 7 months

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a little excerpt from tonight’s chapter 😵‍💫 ty to those who have been so patient with me as i took a week off. ur literally all my lovers

read sneaky link here — 18+ only

Eddie’s fingers dance under the hem of Steve’s shirt, tickling against his taut stomach, the trail of hair beneath his navel. The question of whether he’s allowed to undress Steve is sitting precariously close to the tip of his tongue. But he recalls Friday night, how Steve had told him not to ask, just to do. Seemed to get off on Eddie’s bossiness.

He wonders if that carries over to the future. To now. If he should just start stripping Steve and trust that he’d say something if he was doing something wrong. If he didn’t like—

“Eddie. Please.” Steve writhes under his fingertips, back arching high off the bed as his pelvis searches for Eddie’s.

Right. Okay. So Eddie has his answer.

He fills his lungs with air and tries to cement himself in the present moment. He traces his fingers to Steve’s impatient hips, digs them in his warm skin before shoving him back to the mattress.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Eddie scolds like he’s reprimanding one of the Hellfire twerps. But, you know, in a hopefully sexier way. “Good boys behave to get what they want, Stevie.”

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shimmershaewrites · 2 years

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Chapters: 3/? Fandom: Stranger Things (TV 2016) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Joyce Byers/Jim "Chief" Hopper Characters: Joyce Byers, Jim "Chief" Hopper Additional Tags: Road Trips, Las Vegas Wedding, Brain Damage, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Tags to be added, jim hopper as laura palmer vibes, you don't know if you love someone until you try and drive a uhaul together, post s4 / spoilers!, Canon Compliant Summary:

Hopper and Joyce drive a U-Haul from California to Indiana. Somewhere down the road, Hopper begins to come apart at the seams.

#Stranger Things fanfiction rec #Jopper #Jim Hopper/Joyce Byers #read this #because there's something so beautiful and evocative about the writer's style #seriously #the descriptions will suck you right in #and the angst #definitely not a fluff piece #but well worth a read for the author's way with words #looking forward to seeing how this all shakes out

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thelostmagicians · 1 year

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Booksmart | Steve Harrington

Summary: Steve Harrington’s head may be full of air, but his heart is full of love. [4.4k]

Fluff, comfort, slight angst, insecure Steve

♡

Steve Harrington isn’t a genius. He barely passed his classes in high school, couldn’t get into college, and can barely keep his minimum wage job. He’s been belittled by his parents too many times to care about their opinion and he knows compared to his friends he isn’t as clever or witty, but he’s okay with it - at least he thinks he is. It might sting when Robin and Eddie tease him for being too slow or when Dustin sighs in frustration because he can’t keep up, but the ache dissipates when they look at him in adoration.

He blames his failing love life on his lack of intelligence. Although girls find his himbo-ness endearing, his relationships never last long. Most of the dates he goes on end up as dirty hookups in the backseat of his car and on the off chance a girl stays longer than a month he can slowly see the irritation replace the endearment in her eyes. He was just something to do during the inbetween phase of graduation and moving out of Hawkins, a trophy to conquer - to finally have slept with the previously known King. He used to be okay with that at the beginning, he got his needs met while girls crossed him off their list, but over time he craved more. He saw how Nancy looked at Jonathan, how Joyce laughed with Hopper, and how Robin blushed around Vickie. He was desperate for that feeling of being wanted and loved.

Even though he's surrounded by people who love and accept him as he is, he can't help but wonder if things would’ve been different if he was just a little smarter.

“Robin I’m telling you she started speaking a different language halfway through dinner,” Steve grumbles as he’s shelving the horror section.

Robin rolls her eyes at him, “Just because you don’t understand the words she’s using doesn’t mean she was speaking a different language, Steven. I don’t even think she knows anything but English.

Steve sighs under his breath.

He had gone on another date last night, but didn’t even make it past the appetizers before he made up an emergency and left. The night started off great, the Indiana summer evening had a cool breeze, he opened the door for her, and was rewarded with a kiss on his cheek when he presented her with flowers. Valerie had been nice, beautiful, and smart - maybe a little too smart for Steve. Don’t get him wrong, Steve loves strong, smart, and capable women. He loved hearing Valerie speak about physics and graphing linear equations, he loved learning about what interested her, but as the night went on he could see the light in her eyes fading as he kept asking her questions. The final straw had been when he told her he hasn’t read a book since high school and she laughed lightly before saying “you really are only a pretty face.”

“Maybe, I’m just destined to be alone, or like a back up plan for girls who come back to Hawkins after giving up on their big city dreams.”

Robin sighs and gives him a reassuring pat, “Steve, you’re a good man. You’ll find your one, trust me on this.”

Before he can say more the bell jingles as a gust of hot air is let in. Steve groans as he spots Dustin’s mop of curly hair and hears the chatter of 6 other teens. He holds the door open with his arm as he sees Lucas struggling with Max’s wheelchair.

“You guys can’t keep coming in here, Robin and I actually have work to do you know.”

“We wanted to pick a movie for movie night,” Max says.

He sighs softly as he meets her eyes. Steve’s always had a soft spot for Max ever since they’ve met and it’s only gotten softer since then, everyone knows this, but the kids tend to take advantage of this and use Max to get their way.

“Alright two movies max and no rated r ones.”

As he hears the bell jingle again he starts his greeting in a monotone voice, “Welcome to Family Video, my name is St—” he chokes.

“Oh my god, are you okay?” you ask softly.

He’s still coughing and panting slightly as he tries to give you a reassuring nod. Robin makes her way to the front to hand Steve some water and finish introductions.

“What he means to say is his name is Steve and I’m Robin. You can come get us if you have any questions.”

You nod politely, finally tearing your gaze away from Steve as you start browsing through the racks. Steve, however, can’t seem to stop looking at you. He’s seen a lot of beautiful women in his life, but none of them held a candle to you. Everything about you was just perfect to him and he didn’t even know you yet. His eyes repeatedly traced the slope of your nose, down to your plush lips, and back to your furrowed eyebrows as you read the back of a tape.

You lift your head up and he blushes as you make eye contact.

“Do you have any recommendations for sci-fi, I just moved to town and need something to keep me from getting bored?” you ask shyly.

“Err- We have a sci-fi section over there” Steve points to the rack behind him where the kids are gathered and quietly arguing over which movie to pick.

You speak as you make your way over, “Yeah, but do you have any recommendations for me? I feel like I’ve seen all the good ones already.”

Steve's face falls as he tries to come up with an answer.

“Have you seen Star Wars?” Dustin speaks up

Max and El groan loudly as you shake your head.

“I tend to stay away from franchises, but what’s it about?”

Before Dustin can answer, Mike beats him to it, “It’s about galactic adventures of these characters, it’s pretty cool.”

“We were planning on watching it tonight, we always have movie nights at Steve’s on Friday. You should join us!” Dustin exclaims as he tries to shoot Steve a sly wink.

Your eyes grow wide at the sudden invitation as Steve rests his head in his hands too embarrassed to speak.

“Is that alright with you, Steve?” You ask kindly.

Steve’s breath hitches as he hears you say his name, he slowly meets your gaze as he gives you a slight nod trying to avoid choking on air again.

Robin smirks at Steve as she hands you a post-it, “Here’s Steve’s address. Movie starts at 7 and bring as many snacks as you’d like!”

You grab the post-it and shoot everyone a small wave “I’ll see you guys then!”

Steve feels like he can finally breathe after he hears the soft slam of the door behind you.

“I can’t believe you would do that, just invite a stranger to my home like that,” Steve groans as he fixes his hair, again, in the hallway mirror. He glances down at his polo debating if he should change his shirt for the fourth time.

“Steve, she agreed to come while seeing you in a Family Video vest, I don’t think your outfit is what you should be worried about,” Jonathan teases him as he passes him a coke.

Steve shoots him a sarcastic smile before checking his watch. It’s 7:02, you should’ve shown up 2 minutes ago and he’s a nervous wreck. He sees your headlights before anyone else does and trips over Will’s backpack as he waits to open the door on the very first knock.

“Sorry I’m late, the petit fours took longer than expected.” You smile at him holding out a large container filled with small cakes.

He gives you a confused look too embarrassed to ask what petit fours are, so instead he takes the container and waves you in.

“What brings you to Hawkins?” Eddie asks.

“I actually came here for work, Hawkins laboratory needed another scientist to look at all the crazy stuff that’s happened here.”

Everyone basks in the uncomfortable silence as you mention the lab before Nancy speaks up, “You work as a scientist? You seem pretty young.”

You hesitate slightly, folding your hands in your lap, “I am young, but I graduated college at 16 and recently got my PhD and my advisor recommended me for this job, so here I am.”

Steve’s heart falls to his stomach, you were a genius, a child prodigy of some sort and you’ve accomplished so much at such a young age. There was no way you would even be slightly interested in him, but part of him was willing to take that risk - be okay with whatever you spared him because it was better than not having you in his life at all.

The movie is ignored as everyone pays more attention to you and your genius-ness. He hears voices all at once but all he can focus on is yours. The way your laugh ends in a higher pitch than it starts in, the way you softly reassure Nancy that college isn’t hard, but his favorite is when you say his name when you ask for his opinion on the theories the kids present to you. It makes him feel important like you care about what he has to say and you value his thoughts just as much as you would anyone else’s.

Steve might’ve only met you today, but he was already enamored. You might’ve knowingly opened the door only to Family Video, but you also unknowingly opened the door to his heart and started to fill every corner of it with you.

Steve doesn’t think he’s read this much in his entire existence as he has this month.

The first thing he did the morning after movie night was go to the library and check out as many books as he could about everything that sounded smart. He’s inhaled almost every book on poetry (specifically Shakespeare), astrophysics and European history. You’ve come to every movie night since the first one and you try your best to visit Family Video after work just to chat with Steve and Robin. He was slowly falling in love with you and he wasn’t going to let his dumb brain be the reason he lost you. He forcefully read every book from cover to cover, prying his eyes open with the memory of your impressed smile anytime he fell asleep. He’s made countless flashcards and pesters Robin to quiz them during their shift.

After two months of revising and memorizing he thinks he finally finds the courage to ask you out. You’re the last one to leave tonight, helping Steve clean up after everyone either left or claimed a spare room.

Steve’s hands are clammy as he ties the trash bag into a pretty bow, “I was wondering if… I mean you don’t have to… but umm, like if you wanted to go out. With me, I mean.”

Your eyes trace his face as you clench the empty red vines wrapper, “You mean like a date?”

Steve nods, unsure of your reaction. Part of him hopes you’ll say no and put him out of his misery, so he can finally stop learning, but a bigger part of him hopes you’ll give him a chance.

Your lips upturn in a shy smile as you fiddle your thumbs, “Yeah, I’d like that a lot. What did you have in mind?”

“How about next Friday, we ditch the losers and have our movie night? I’ll pick you up at 7 and we can catch a movie?”

You respond with a quick kiss on his cheek as you grab your purse and head out. Steve rests his head on the back of the door as he pumps his fist in the air and tries his hardest to not wake Robin and Eddie with his cheering.

You’re nervous as you pace in front of your door. Steve makes you nervous, but you don’t hate the feeling. You’ve never felt this way about a boy before, boys always had a competition with you, a majority of your dates ended up with the two of you trying to up each other with accomplishments, but with Steve everything is different. Even though the facts he tells are wrong, it was still endearing to watch him try.

You’re broken out of your thoughts with a knock on your door. You smooth down your dress and look in the mirror once more before swinging the door open. Steve stands there in all his glory, hair perfectly done, snug jeans, and a bouquet of flowers covering his stupidly handsome face.

“These are for you,” he pushes the bouquet towards you with a surprise force that you have to step back to avoid them pressing into your nose.

“Thanks Steve, they’re beautiful.” You set them down gently at the nearby table mentally making a note to find a vase after you come back home.

He opens his car door for you, waiting until you’re settled in before jogging back to his side. “There’s a French movie playing tonight, I think it’s about Marie - Annette, you know the queen who liked cake?”

You giggle quietly but opt to ignore his mistake because he just looked too fucking cute with furrowed eyebrows and a nervous smile.

“And after the movie I was thinking we can stop by somewhere for a late night snack?”

You nod excitedly eager to finally spend time with him far away from the eyes of your prying friends, “I didn’t know you knew French?”

“Uh, yeah.”

The movie was… boring and bland. Steve didn’t understand anything happening so instead spent the entire time admiring you, the furrow of your eyebrows, the tilt of your head, and the gentle bite of your lip. He remembered you mentioning to Robin that you were fluent in French, so thought a foreign film would be a good idea for a first date, but now he regrets his choice especially since you spent the drive to the diner asking him questions about the movie. Questions he didn’t know the answer to. Steve has charmed his way through life, but he wasn’t sure how much longer his charm would last with you, he had an inkling that sooner or later you would be able to see through his facade and you would see him as a disappointment.

You had a hunch that Steve was lying about knowing French and your hunch was confirmed when his shoulders tensed as the ticket guy told him the movie didn’t have English subtitles. He played it off with a laugh and a wave of his hand, but you could tell it made him nervous. You thought the movie was alright, but your favorite part was feeling Steve’s eyes on you. You try to be mindful when asking him questions, keeping them vague and more about opinions rather than asking him questions that have a right or wrong answer. He responds as vaguely as possible, gauging your reaction to see if you’re pleased with his answer or if he needs to backtrack and fix his opinion.

Your conversation at the diner starts to get more personal as you ask each other about your likes and dislikes. You learn that Steve broke his arm learning to ride a bike, his favorite color is green, and he’s always wanted a dog. Everything you learn about Steve just makes you like him even more and the potential of falling in love with him makes you giddy with happiness. Your hands brush occasionally as you walk back to his car. He bites his lip hesitating to grab your hand as he peeks at you from the corner of his eye. You make the decision for the both of you and take a hold of his hand swinging both your arms as he blushes.

“You’re really cute Steve Harrington,” you say as you force him to face you before gently pushing your lips to his.

You spend every free time you have with Steve now. It’s been a month since your first date and since then you’ve gone out plenty of times and if you’re not physically together then you’re talking for hours on the phone. Steve’s able to open up to you more than he has to anyone else and it’s only been a few months of knowing you but he knows he’s in love, yet he can’t ask you to be his girlfriend. He does everything a boyfriend should do, calling you during breaks, kissing your bad days away, and hugging you just right when you’re on the verge of tears, but he still can’t find the courage to ask you to be his, officially.

You express your concern to Nancy and Robin at an impromptu girls night, thrown together after a rough week for all of you.

“I just don’t know why he won’t ask me, I always want to ask him myself before I see him, but then I lose my nerve. Maybe he doesn’t even like me like that and I’m just reading into things,” you whine as you smear a homemade face mask on Robin's face.

“Trust me, Steve is a goner for you,” Nancy replies as she squints to make sure her brushes on the nail polish perfectly.

“Nance is right, Steve is in love with you, but you just make him nervous.”

“I don’t understand why though, how do I make him nervous when he’s Steve Harrington,” you sigh dreamily.

Nancy and Robin giggle as they see the childish frown on your face. You push your face into a pillow whining into it like a petulant child.

Nancy rubs your back gently, “Look it’s not my place to say, but Steve isn’t the smartest tool academically. And you’re this child prodigy and that makes him nervous.”

Robin nods in agreement, “Yeah, you do know he spent months reading all sorts of books just to impress you right? He isn’t actually as smart as he pretends to be. He just memorizes a bunch of stuff the days leading up to your date.”

You huff in annoyance, “Yeah, I knew that on our first date when he took me to that French film. But I don’t love him because he can tell me facts about the mesozoic era. I love him because he’s him.”

Nancy and Robin share a knowing look.

“You love him?” Robin whispers.

“What?”

“You just said you love him,” Nancy clarifies.

You breathe in deeply before letting it out, the weight of what you said finally sinking in. “Yeah, I do. I really do.”

Both girls squeal as they pull you into a hug, face masks and nail polish quickly forgotten.

You fall asleep that night knowing the next time you see Steve you’ll tell him. Tell him how much you love him and how he means to you.

Unfortunately for you and Steve, you aren’t able to spend any time alone lately. Work is crazy for the both of you and any time you have off it’s spent with the group. While you love spending time with your friends, you’re dying for a second alone with Steve. A second that only you both can cherish when you finally tell him how you feel.

You’re hoping you can finally catch a moment alone with Steve at the summer bonfire by Lover’s Lake. Almost every young adult in Hawkins comes out of hiding for this annual bonfire, usually thrown by college kids as a final hurrah before summer break is officially over. You hung out with Nancy and Robin for a while and meet some new people, but you’re aren’t able to find the one person you want to see. You finally spot him parking his car and hurriedly shoving his family video vest in the trunk, but before you call out to him you’re blocked by a freckled boy wearing a smug smile.

“Well if it isn’t the new genius of Hawkins,” the boy teases, voice filled with malice.

You smile politely, “I’m sorry you’re–”

“I’m Hagan. Tommy Hagan, surprised Steve hasn’t mentioned me considering we used to be the best of friends before he became a loser.”

You’ve heard about Tommy, mostly through passing from Nancy and Jonathan and based on Steve’s disgruntled face every time his name was mentioned, you decided Tommy Hagan wasn’t worth your time.

“How can I help you?” You ask in a monotone voice to show how disinterested you are.

Before Tommy can start you feel a pair of arms wrap around your waist and lips brush against the side of your head. You turn to see Steve’s grimace at Tommy before his eyes soften landing on you.

“Hi hon,” he whispers gently, his left arm moving from caressing your hip to soothing the ache in your shoulder.

“Hey baby.” For a second it’s just the two of you lost in each other’s eyes, you wonder if everyone else can see how lovesick you are for Steve. Before you can whisk him away for yourself Tommy interrupts again.

“Damn, Harrington. Didn’t think I’d see you go all soft again after what Wheeler did to you.”

You rolled your eyes at the mention of Nancy. It’s been years, both Steve and Nancy were over it, being happy for each other and supporting each other as friends. Yet everyone still brought it up because they had no other dirt on Steve.

“Didn’t know you were home for the summer Tommy,” Steve replies ready to end the conversation with his former friend.

At this point you see Jonathan and Eddie glancing from their spot near the fire. Both of them looking at Steve, silently asking him if he needed them. Steve shakes his head at them and squeezes your shoulder readying to lead you away.

“Yeah, summer is the only time I have off now. Between college and my internship. It’s hard out there man, but you wouldn’t know that, would you?” Tommy smirks knowingly as he pushes Steve’s buttons. He knows college has always been a sore spot for Steve especially since he was still stuck working at Family Video.

Steve grunts in response hoping his disinterest is enough to stray Tommy away from the both of you, but with Steve’s luck Tommy turns his attention to you.

“Surprised he can keep up with a genius like you sweetheart.”

You wrinkled your nose in disgust, the term of endearment turning sour coming from a mouth other than Steve’s.

Tommy continues to go on, swaying from the few too many drinks he’s had. “Did he tell you he barely passed high school? His dad complained to mine about how much of a disappointment he turned out to be. Can’t even get a job at his dad’s firm with the brain he has.”

Steve loosens his grip around your shoulder, cheeks flushing in embarrassment.

“You’re telling me your girl hasn’t caught on to the kind of screw up you are Harrington? You sure she’s a genius, or maybe you found someone that aligns with your IQ.”

At this point everyone is watching the words fly out of Tommy’s mouth, some snickering others shooting Steve looks of pity. Tommy Hagan is ripping him to shreds in front of everyone and yet all he can focus on is you. A look of disappointment mixed with frustration glazing over your otherwise sweet disposition. He sees his friends pushing their way through the crowd but before they could defend him he hears your honey like voice calling out for Tommy.

“What university did you say you go to, Tommy?” you ask sweetly.

“Indiana University of Business,” he smirks behind his beer.

“And I’m assuming your daddy paid for it? Cause you sure as hell didn’t get into school by your merit, considering you spent most of high school with your head so far up people’s asses that you couldn’t get enough oxygen to your brain. Hence, why you and your stupid ass are still playing into high school politics at your grown ass age.”

The smugness on Tommy’s face disappears.

“And what do you want to do with your future Tommy? Join daddy’s business? Turn out exactly like him? Cause last I heard he spends more time with his new family than he does with you. Maybe he finally got a child he actually loves.”

You knew it was a low blow, bringing up Tommy’s family issues, but you couldn’t care less. After everything he said to Steve, he had it coming and you only wish you were around in high school so you could’ve put him in his place earlier.

You heard a low whistle from Eddie, “Well guess the shows over folks. And looks like we have a clear winner.”

People start clearing out going back to mind their own business and you grab Steve’s arm leading him far away from Tommy’s frozen stance.

“Guess the secret’s out,” Steve mumbles.

“Huh?”

“Now you know I’m not really smart, so..” he trails off.

You smile, arms twisting around his waist pulling him close. “You know, I’ve met a lot of smart people in my life, but don't you dare, even for a second take Tommy’s words to heart. Because I know you, and I know that you’re the greatest person I’ve ever met.”

Steve pinches your chin, holding your gaze before whispering out a shy “yeah?”

You hear the insecurity laced in his voice as you nod fervently. “I kinda figured you weren’t as smart as you let on from our first date, but I said yes because even though you aren’t a brainiac you have a heart of gold. I see the way you take care of the kids, how you take care of your friends. And I love how you take care of me. I love you and everything about you, Steve Harrington.”

Steve blushes, his cheeks turn a rosy hue as he grabs your waist pressing his lips to yours in a kiss so sweet you think you’ll get a toothache.

“You really love me?”

“I really do.”

Steve presses another kiss before murmuring out an I love you against your lips.

Yeah, Steve Harrington is stupid. Stupidly in love with you.

2K notes · View notes

heartthrobin · 2 years

Text

amuse and romance me like you do

steve harrington x female!reader

wc: 12k

warnings: some swearing, idiots in love, jealous!Steve, slow burn(ish), they’re so in love it’s gross, neighbor!reader, Dustin Henderson being a little shit

an: i wrote this a while ago but i’m v proud of it :)

summary: you wanted to bring your videos back on time, you really did, but somehow the threat of a fine was worth it to see Steve Harrington's amused frown when you waltzed in late. besides, he was more than welcome to start fining you - but that meant he'd miss the feeling of how his body turned to goo when you gave him that little smirk, knowing you'd gotten away with it once again.

Summer in Hawkins was near unbeatable. The mornings were scorching, enough that the local pool was packed to capacity with screaming kids and nonchalant parents lounging close by - but by evening: Hawkins would cool to a warm breeze up over the roofs of suburbia.

It was almost six on one such balmy Thursday night, the wind slipping in through the open window as your mom's Toyota sped down the longest strip of road leading almost to the edge of town.

You loved Thursdays. Mondays and Thursday, actually.

They were the two nights you didn't work the evening shift and consequently the two nights Claudia Henderson attended bingo nights down at the diner on Maple.

She'd called you up, as she did every Monday and Thursday, just before five.

“Oh dear, won't you come watch Dusty Bun for the night? Just for a couple hours, I won't be late.”

She always was, but that didn't matter.

The Henderson's had lived next door for almost eight years, since Dustin was no taller than your knee.

"Of course Ms Henderson, I'll be there by six."

You'd agreed, like you did the week before and the week before that. You and Dustin were slowly making your way through the slasher horror section of the video store, promising to never mention it to his mother who would undoubtedly collapse in shock at the notion.

It's how you found yourself pulling with a loud screech and a lurch into the open parking spot right in front of Family Video.

The center parking lot was empty, spare for a red truck near the back of the lot that you were sure had been parked there for weeks.

There was a video store closer to your neighborhood, Mr Video, but going to find your flicks there would rob you of the opportunity to see Steve Harrington's exasperated expression when you slammed the video against the counter late, again.

You sold the bit by complaining that there wasn't as big a selection at Mr Video when anybody ever asked.

The copy you'd rented on Monday afternoon stared up at you from the passenger seat. A Nightmare on Elm Street: Freddy's Revenge.You grinned at it.

"Store policy, you need to bring the video back 48 hours after renting."

You were pushing it on hour 76.

Unfazed, and stomach sloshing with warm, soft excitement for your biweekly encounter with your favourite head of hair in Hawkins, you grabbed the movie off the seat and slid out the car.

The front door jingled behind you, alerting not only the woman standing in the sci-fi section near the window, but also the man behind the counter.

Steve looked up from where he was flipping through a three-month old TV guide, looking painfully bored.

When his eyes met yours, they flickered between expressions quickly before settling on unimpressed.

He leaned to push himself off the counter, glancing dramatically down at the watch over his wrist.

"Punctual, as always."

A grin slid over your lips, using the case of the movie in your hand to fan at the threads of sweat tickling down the side of your neck.

"Listen, I've got a real reason for bringing it late this time—"

He didn't offer you the chance to finish what you both knew was a lie. "And I'd love to hear it if I knew it wasn't bullshit."

You placed the video down onto the counter sliding it over to him, trying to look as nonchalant as possible while quietly soaking in the light freckles speckled over the bridge of his nose.

"What can I say, you know me too well, Harrington."

As was the curse of Hawkins High, you never knew Steve in your time there despite being the same age. He ruled blindly in his kingdom as King Steve while you gravitated in the outer-lying fields of friendship. It wasn't until his maroon BMW started to frequent the driveway between your place and the Henderson's that you were reminded - or in Steve's case, made aware of - each other's existence.

"A good thing too. I didn't have much of an idea where I was gonna go with that story anyways."

He rolled his eyes, but the curl of amusement at the edges of his lips was impossible to miss. A lick of pride bit at your beating heart.

"Right." He grabbed the video from the counter, dropping it into an unseen bin by his feet. "What're you and the little twerp watching tonight?"

Your chin fell into your hands, glancing over his shoulder at the Horror Section near the back of the store, not entirely ready to leave the desk for a proper look and risk losing the light waft of the Dior cologne drifting from over the countertop.

"We've finished the Elm Street stuff ..." you huffed, squinting to read the label off another bloody cover. "Sledgehammer?"

His nose crinkled at you, "Don't. It's shit."

Lifting your face from your hands, your head tilted up to meet his eyes. "Any suggestions then, Scorsese?"

A funny expression ghosted over his face and you watched as his bottom lip was sucked in between his teeth. You almost frowned.

"Well, uh," He fidgeted with a drawer behind the desk, "A new one came in this week, I thought you guys might—might like it so I held onto it for you."

His hand emerged with a blue and red cover on a video, setting it into the space between you - shrugging as far from nonchalantly as you'd ever seen from Steve Harrington.

Was he nervous?

Your hand closed over the copy and you tried to hide how your heart lurched when your fingers brushed over his.

"Slaughter High?" You eyed it, glancing periodically up between the cover and Steve's slowly but surely reddening face.

"I thought y—Dustin might like it."

He was right. It looked like the exact ratio of gore to cheesy plot-line that Dustin adored, that you mostly watched from behind your hands.

"Saving movies for us? This feels like a desperate attempt at gaining an invite to the exclusive Henderson Movie Night." You pressed lightly, watching as Steve's mood dissolved again into Mr Charisma.

"Please," he rolled his eyes, "if I wanted to be there I would. Besides, it takes only one little phone call to good old Claudia to end this whole little horror-fest of yours."

You gasped theatrically, pulling the film up to your chest, "you wouldn't dare."

"Try me."

Setting your hands back on the counter you giggled softly, "You blackmail all the girls that come in here or is it just the pretty ones?"

Steve's cheeks rung red again, you loved the shade on him.

"Just the pretty ones." It was accompanied by that smile you were sure could win Nobel prizes.

A tight pang echoed in your chest.

It was easy to tease him, to pretend for even a minute that maybe he could look at you with the same fondness that forced your eyes over the smile at the corners of his mouth, or the rogue strands of hair that stuck to his forehead in the Indiana heat.

What wasn't quite as easy was forcing aside the nauseous gurgle in your stomach when you noticed how the prettiest girls from every corner of the state would come to lean over the Family Video countertop just as you were doing now, pop their bubblegum in his face and send their cherry lipgloss smiles just to melt him all over.

They were his type, of course.

King Steve had always loved the princesses.

The AC unit wheezed loudly somewhere behind you, forcing you back to where you stood.

Steve was watching you carefully.

You couldn't help noticed how close your hands rested by his on the desk. If you just stretched out your index finger, his would be in yours. You pulled them back slowly, grabbing the movie as you did.

"It looks good," you smiled, motioning to the movie. "I'm sure Dustin's gonna love it."

Steve nodded slowly, "Great. Don't forget to bring—"

But you had already turned on him, half a foot out the door and laughing loudly over your shoulder, "To bring it back on time, yeah yeah I will!"

The door shut loudly, the jingle of the bell against the hinge echoing in the space you'd left. He sighed loudly, forehead coming down against the counter.

"You're pathetic, you know that right?" Robin's voice washed over him from where she had no doubt been lurking in the staff room, following the interaction with her ear against the door.

Not lifting his head, but rather shifting it to offer her a side eye, he groaned: "thanks for the vote of confidence, Robs."

The smell of burnt popcorn hit your senses like a truck when you pulled the door open to the Henderson household. You coughed against your elbow.

"Dustin!"

The teen peeked his head into the hallway from the kitchen, smiling sheepishly. "Hey, I'm just ... sorting out the snacks."

You gave him a sharp look before tossing the video onto the couch, "If you burn down the house your mom is never gonna let me come by here again, you know that right?"

"Yeah, yeah stop being dramatic." He called from the kitchen as you flopped back against the couch. Your eyes found purchase on the blank yellow wall above the television.

The image of Steve in that cute little Family Video vest swirled around in your brain and you were suddenly plagued by the question of how he tasted. Those puffy pink lips, when they twisted into an amused frown. You were sure his kiss would be minty, or maybe sweet from the Twizzlers that were constantly in his hands—

"What you get?" You jumped when Dustin fell into the spot beside you, a tub of nearly black popcorn in his lap.

You eyed it wearily, slowly picking up the video and flashing it in his line of vision.

The teen grabbed it greedily, almost tipping the tub over his knees, raking over the cover. "Hey! This is brand new, I heard Lucas saying that people threw up in the cinema because it's so scary."

He turned to you, "How did you get it? Everyone's gonna want their hands on this."

"It was Steve actually." You leaned over him to reach the packet of Skittles he'd discarded by the arm of the couch, ripping it open. "When I got there he said he'd held it for us, that you'd like it."

Dustin's eyebrows tightened, "That's weird."

"I think it was sweet of him." You sunk further back in the couch, trying not to look too dreamy eyed when Dustin's curious gaze worked over you.

"Ew."

You punched him lightly in the shoulder, laughing. "It's not like that dipstick."

The growing darkness allowed for the disguise of your reddening cheeks.

"Now go put in the movie before I make us watch Golden Girls."

Dustin stood to slot the video into the machine, the television lighting up.

It carried on like that for weeks, well into July and past the end of the Summer break for the high schoolers.

Family Video wasn't as busy as it was with the kids back at school, the hours dragged between shifts with seemingly endless rounds of Crazy Eights and rewatches of whatever romantic 60's flick Robin had chosen that week.

But come Monday or Thursday, Steve would linger excitedly near the counter. Robin would tease him, "you need to pluck up the balls and just ask her out".

He'd roll his eyes at her.

"I've told you, it's not that easy."

It wasn't.

Girls came in every day, leaning indulgently over the counter with smiles to pursue him - and he loved it, don't get him wrong - but somehow twice a week you'd skip into the shop with that grin that made his words fold over each other and his heart feel like it was beating from his throat and he couldn't remember the names of a single one of the others who'd slid their numbers flirtatiously across the desk.

He wasn't sure he was ready for the destruction your rejection would subject him to.

So around five o' clock every Monday and Thursday, when your beat up Toyota screeched into the parking spot in front of the shop, he'd beg Robin to keep her mouth shut for just five minutes and she'd shrug, grinning like the cat who caught the canary before mumbling, "Whatever you say, Casanova."

The door would jingle and you'd come bouncing in with your tank tops and denim shorts or sometimes with a skirt flirting at the tops of your thighs - the image of which would keep Steve up at night - and you'd lean over the counter with the overdue video in your hand.

Except one day you're pushing the door open with your hip, cradling a suspicious pink box, with the video balancing on top.

Steve perked up, tossing aside the Rubik's cube he'd been pretending to be busy with in the moments between you parking the car and stepping into the shop.

You slid the video across the desk at him. The Hills Have Eyes.

"Hi." You grinned before peering over his shoulder, "Hey Robin."

Robin glanced back from where she was restocking the snack shelf. "Hey."

"You know I'm gonna have to start charging you late fees for these eventually, right?" He picked up the video, no substance to his threat at all.

"I know, I know. That's why—" you set the pink box carefully up on the counter, "I've brought a peace offering."

Steve's eyes met yours, eyebrow pinching in confusion. "What is it?"

You rolled your eyes and Steve couldn't help notice the length of your eyelashes, how they fanned at your cheeks: "Well there's only one way to find out, smarty pants."

He lifted the lid of the box, allowing the sugary sweet scent to fill his lungs. Five pink and white donuts stared brightly up at him.

His eyes widened in delight and a warmth flooded his stomach at the thought of you going out to buy pastries just for him.

Steve's silence seemed to make you nervous, because you began speaking quickly into the space: "They're from the Yellow Piglet, you know the diner on Maple? They're really good, I didn't know if you guys were allergic or—"

"No, no." He cut you off, feeling his cheeks warming. "They look delicious."

Robin had apparently heard the commotion, or perhaps sensed the arrival of food - Steve always had a suspicion that her nose was too good to be human - and appeared at his side.

"Donuts!" She beamed, "For us?"

You laughed. "Yep, both of you look like you're not being fed at home. Thought I might thicken you up."

Maybe it was his imagination, but Steve swore he felt your eyes warm over his biceps after you spoke. His eyes flickered unintentionally to your hips, unable to stop himself from wondering if it was the donuts that helped you fill out the sides of those shorts so nicely.

Robin grabbed a pink one out the box, diving into it before moaning around the mouthful - crumbs dripping over her vest.

"This is the best thing that's ever happened to us at work."

She held it up to Steve, offering him a bite. He shook his head, but didn't miss how your gaze flickered between him and his colleague during the small interaction. Your shoulders deflated slightly and his stomach sank.

You coughed awkwardly, avoiding meeting his eyes again, "I'm glad you like them. I think they're worth at least another month's worth of late returns."

"A month? That's a bit generous isn't it?"

"Taste one and you'll change your mind, Harrington. I tried one in the car on the way here, couldn't resist."

His eyes found the two white sprinkles at the edge of your lips, evidence of your indulgence, and fleetingly wished he could suck them off.

Instead, he pulled out a heavily iced donut from the box and bit tentatively into it. Fuck. It really was good.

He tried to catch his sigh before it escaped him, he wasn't quick enough, but the amused smirk you sent him over the table was enough compensation for him to forget it.

"Fine," he mumbled around a mouthful. "A month."

"Great." You skipped past the desk over to the horror section, reaching up to the top shelf to grab The Hills Have Eyes II, while Steve's mouth watered around the donut over the stretch of thigh that peeked out from under your shorts as you reached. Allowing him to commit the image of the deep fold between your ass and thigh to memory.

That was before Robin dug her elbow into his side, meeting him with a stern look that said "you're being a fucking creep".

Before he could retort, you were back at the desk, flashing the cover at him. "I'll take this one."

He quickly typed in the name and you were on your way again, only the jingle of the door left behind and the light whiff of your perfume to plague Steve for the rest of the day.

Robin bumped his shoulder, starting on her second donut, "That one's a keeper, Harrington."

He couldn't help agree.

Besides Mondays and Thursdays, Steve also loved Saturdays. It was his one off day a week, also the day he'd take Dustin down to the Frozen Frenzy and buy him a tub of frozen yoghurt, allowing him to practically overfill the cup with toppings.

They'd drive from there to the park close to the Harrington household where they'd sit in Steve's car and he'd listen to Dustin ramble about how he hated his maths teacher or how Suzie was teaching him how to code on the computer while he sipped on a strawberry milkshake.

He was listening mostly attentively, eyes trained on the squirrel running up the side of a tree a few feet from the car, but perked up at the mention of your name.

"—she said there's a horror festival in Indianapolis in October and that we could go if I wanted. The guy who played Jason in Friday the 13th is apparently gonna be there."

Steve nodded as solemnly as he could manage, looking at the side of Dustin's face now.

"And... and you guys have fun together?"

Dustin scooped another mouthful of caramel yoghurt and sour worms into his mouth, nodding. "Yeah. She's the best: let's me stay up as late as I want, drives me wherever I wanna go. And she's funny."

Pulling out the straw to mix the remnants of milkshake at the bottom of his cup, Steve nodded again - trying to look casual when he opened his mouth again.

"Does she ever ... y'know, ask about me?"

Dustin's head whipped towards him. "Why?"

"What do you mean why, Henderson. She's ... she's cute I like her."

The curly hair atop Dustin's head trembled as he shook it, muttering vehemently "Oh no, no, no, you're not going for her."

"Why not!" Steve twisted in his seat to face the fifteen year old, "I treat girls well."

"Yeah," he scoffed, "for two and a half dates before you stop taking their calls. All you're gonna do is lead her on and then upset her when you get bored."

Steve's jaw slackened, taken aback by Dustin's scathing, yet mostly honest, review. "Jesus, tell me what you really think Henderson."

"Am I wrong?"

The straw of his milkshake became suddenly interesting again and Steve began to fiddle with it. "No, I mean not entirely, but I ... I wouldn't do that to her."

He could feel Dustin's heated gaze against the side of his neck, "I don't believe that."

"Listen, I ... I really like her, okay? I think she's cool." God, he never sounded this damn pathetic in high school. When did all of this get so difficult? "Just tell me, does she ever mention me?"

Dustin hesitated, "I don't know ... I guess she talks about you when she comes back from getting the movie every week. She said you're sweet."

Steve grinned, a familiar wave of confidence washing over him. "She thinks I'm sweet?"

"That's what I said."

He leaned back against the headrest, bringing his milkshake to slurp at it noisily. "Sweet. I can work with sweet."

That very same night, all the way across Hawkins: you were on the way back from work when your hand-me-down ride pulled to a spluttering stop just a couple miles from home.

Smoke billowed from underneath the hood and you knew better than to go prying beneath it.

After ten minutes of kicking furiously at the wheel and wiping away angry tears, you elected to walk half a mile to the nearest public phone, dropping in a quarter to ring up the mechanic two streets down from your neighborhood.

You didn't wait long. By the time you'd reached your car again and slid back into the driver's seat, turning up the evening radio, a tall white pick up truck pulled to a stop beside you.

Not that you'd been entirely sure what to expect of the man to step out the car, but you almost choked on thin air when the beast of a man climbed from the truck.

"Hi, I'm Ralph," he stuck a large, black-stained paw at you and you took it clumsily. "You must be ..."

You nodded, too embarrassed to attempt words just yet.

Ralph was tall, ginormous actually. He towered over you with big meaty shoulders covered in colorful ink and a thickset beard that wrapped over the borders of his face before dipping into the edges of the long mane of hair atop his head.

He smiled, with a brilliant white set of teeth too, before moving to work. He attached your pathetic car to the truck before offering you a lift home.

The car ride was short but Ralph was endearing, he asked what you did and sounded interested when you mentioned your job at the record store, you asked about his work as a mechanic and he laughed heartily at your dizzy attempts at jokes.

When the truck pulled to a park outside your house, he promised it would be sorted before Monday.

You thanked him, batting your eyelashes maybe a little heavily and offering a soft brush at his arm before beginning to move out the car.

He stopped you before the door shut, "Listen, I'd love to take you out sometime if you'd like. Maybe after you pick up the car, Monday night?"

Your eyes glossed dreamily, was this giant piece of smoking man meat really asking you out?

Wait.

Monday night?

Steve's freckled cheeks came sharply into the view of your mind's eye.

You couldn't do Monday, not when it's the only time you get to visit him—

The image of Steve was replaced by the gum popping, cherry lipgloss wearing blonde you'd seen him leave the local cinema with only a couple months ago.

Your stomach twisted nastily, but you fixed your face before Ralph could pick up on the inner turmoil.

"I'd love to."

Monday came quickly. Steve had spent the better part of the weekend working over what he was going to say when you came into the store. He picked out his favourite blue polo and spent an extra twenty minutes on his hair. He even slid a pack of gum into his pocket.

Robin teased and picked at him, but seemed glad at the prospect of a final end to all his pining.

"Thank god, maybe I can get a break from those pathetic googly eyes you have whenever she comes in here."

Nervousness ate at Steve all day, he tried to busy himself with packing away returns or alphabetizing the customers names on the computer but as the minutes ticked closer to five, he could feel the buzz on the surface of his skin.

"I don't know why I'm so worried about this." He muttered irritably over his shoulder at Robin who was sitting rewinding tapes on the floor, "I've asked out a thousand girls. Those all mostly went well."

"Yeah but you've never been scared that one of them was gonna say no."

Steve's knuckles tapped agitatedly at the counter. "Right. Whatever, but she's not gonna say no. I'm gonna woo her."

"Woo her?"

"Woo her."

As slowly as dripping honey, five o' clock arrived. Steve's eyes flickered between the door and the clock.

And just as slowly, it disappeared again.

Five. Half past. Ten to. Six thirty.

You'd never been this late. Twice a week for going on three or so months, at around five pm you'd step into Family Video. Into the view of Steve's googly eyes and churning stomach.

The sun was beginning to set over Hawkins, basking the little video store in an orange light that only served to make the yellow painted walls seem brighter.

Steve could feel Robin's little sympathetic glances at him from the back of the store and they were making his hair stand on end.

He chewed his bottom lip carefully, but there wasn't a rumble of even a single engine on the one road into the center.

After another ten minutes of tapping the counter loudly, he huffed and pulled the phone closer to him from down the desk. He slipped his wallet out from his back pocket where he kept a small list of important numbers, a list he'd been hoping to add yours to by the end of the day, and dialed up the number for the Henderson Household.

The phone rang six times before a resounding click echoed over the line and Dustin's unmistakable voice streamed through.

"Hello?"

"Dustin, it's Steve."

He could feel Robin's gaze on the back of his neck: "Oh. Hey Steve, what's up?"

"Listen, is— are you guys not having movie night tonight, because—"

"Oh, no we're not ... uhm, she's not here."

Something twisted nastily in Steve's stomach.

"What do you mean she's not there? Where is she?"

Robin approached him from behind, leaning up against the other side of the phone to try catch the snippets of conversation.

"She went out on a date, said I could stay home alone as long as I didn't tell my mom—"

"A-A date?" Steve choked and Robin gasped beside him, "a date!" she mouthed.

Steve could feel blood rushing to his brain and suddenly his fingertips were ice cold, the phone trembled for a second in his hand.

"Yeah."

He ran a tight hand through his hair, ruining in seconds the hairdo he'd spent almost an hour on that morning. He struggled for a words, "A date with who? How could you let her go on a date—!"

"She said it was a mechanic from I don't know, and what do you mean how could I? You didn't ask her out so what was I supposed to do!"

Steve barely registered the commiserative pat against his shoulder.

"Did she says what time she'll be back?"

"She's my babysitter, not the other way around. I don't know."

Steve sighed, dropping his forehead into his palm and pressing tightly against the sides of his forehead. "Thanks dipshit. Do you know what time they left?"

"Uh ... a big white pickup was parked outside at like three. I saw her get inside."

The tick of the clock pulled Steve's gaze towards it. Quarter past seven. Their shift ended at seven thirty.

"I'm coming over, I'll be there in twenty minutes."

The phone slammed back against the dial before Dustin could respond. He turned to Robin, who's eyes were wide in unease: like Steve was a wild animal that could attack at any moment.

"Come let's pack the last of this shit away, we're going to Dustin's."

The last of the videos were packed haphazardly onto the shelves, Robin wasn't even sure they were in alphabetical order and didn't dare mention when Steve put Sixteen Candles on the Sci-Fi shelf.

Within ten minutes she was thrown into the passenger seat of his BMW and Steve was screeching down Kilney Road towards Dustin's neighborhood.

It was dark by the time they pulled up. Steve marched up the driveway, barely attempting a knock before throwing the door open. Dustin leapt up from the couch where he'd been lazily channel surfing, the half finished pizza he'd bought with the money you'd left him sitting on the table.

Steve situated himself at the kitchen window, the one over the stove that looked directly onto your front yard.

"Steve, she could be still another couple hours." Dustin pressed, really just wanting to go lay back down on the couch.

"If she comes home at all." Robin quipped. It earned her a hard, hot glare.

"Jeez." She mumbled.

Dustin turned to look up at her, "I didn't know he liked her that much." He whispered.

"God, you have no idea," she sighed, "it's like watching a kicked puppy every time she leaves the store."

After a short-lived and futile attempt at consoling Steve to at least come sit on the couch, Dustin and Robin fell in front of the television.

The teen put on one of his old copy of The Fox and The Hound and Robin picked at the pepperoni on his forgotten pizza.

Steve sulked by the window. He periodically called back self-pitying remarks at them like "you could've at least told me you know, before I called!" every twenty or so minutes.

They generally ignored him.

"You think she'd make me a bridesmaid?" Robin asked Dustin offhandedly.

He shrugged, "She's cool. I'm sure if you asked nicely."

"Sweet."

The movie was drawing to a close near nine thirty - they could tell Steve had been watching from the doorframe of the kitchen when he gasped at the Fox being caught, but they didn't mention it - when the rumble of a truck echoed down the street outside the house.

"Henderson!"

Dustin and Robin perked up, leaping off the couch and skidding towards the kitchen where Steve was practically crawling over the stovetop.

A dirty white truck pulled up into the driveway outside your house before stilling.

"That's the one." Dustin whispered, leaning to turn off the kitchen light and avoid being spotted.

Steve was biting furiously at the insides of his cheeks, his eyes trained on the car.

The windows were tinted and despite the engine being off, there was no movement from the car. The lack of a visual was setting Steve on edge.

"You think they're making out?" Robin mumbled.

Steve didn't even look when he pinched her hard in the arm.

"Ow!"

"Hey, hey, look!" Dustin's forehead pressed against the window, forming round circles of mist against the glass.

The truck was big, but absolutely nothing compared to the man that stepped out of it.

"Holy shit."

Steve swore he felt the ground tremble when the man stepped out the car onto the pavement, tall as a house with enough muscles to rip down a billboard.

"What the fuck—" He squeaked.

The man was rounding the car, obviously to open your door. Oh, and he has manners too. Asshole, Steve though bitterly.

"He's fucking huge!" He turned to Robin, "How am I supposed to compete with Goliath!"

She spluttered, "I—"

"Look, there she is." Dustin was pressing a greasy finger to the glass.

Steve looked and almost wished he hadn't.

You walked beside the mountain man, smiling up at him in the prettiest little sundress Steve had ever seen. His knees buckled beneath him. It was short, hiding just the tops of your thighs, and covered in a green flower print that reached down to your wrists.

"Woah, she looks really pretty."

A heavy wave of self-pity sloshed around in the pit of his stomach, almost forcing up his lunch.

You looked pretty every day, beautiful, but the thought of you dressing up in a tiny little dress and the black eyeliner that he could make out all the across the yard for another man in a way he wished you would do for him was about to make him sick.

He'd probably dream about that dress for the next hundred nights. Maybe you had others, in different colours.

God knows what he'd do to you in one of them.

After the date he'd dreamed of taking you on, in the driver's seat of his car. He'd kiss you the way a girl as mettlesome as you is meant to be kissed, maybe pull you into his lap and run his hands all the way up those massive thighs, up past the edge of that dress—

"I don't know what to tell you Harrington. This isn't looking good for you, pal." Robin pulled him sharply out of his fantasies.

You and the mechanic neared your doorstep. Steve's heart clenched tightly in his chest. This would be around the time he himself would try for at least a soft peck.

"It's make or break now." Dustin whispered.

The pair stopped, your hand on the door as you looked up to meet the massive man's face.

Steve sucked in a sharp breath when he leaned his hairy face down closer to your level and thought he might faint when you pressed up onto your tippy toes to leave a kiss on his—

"Cheek!" Dustin yelped happily, "She kissed him on the cheek, that's good!"

Steve let out a long breath, a fraction of warm relief dripping into his bloodstream.

"Yeah, a cheek kiss is good." Robin nodded, arms supporting her against the stone countertop. "If she really liked him she would've kissed him properly."

Steve knew that Robin maybe wasn't the best person to offer any accurate commentary on a heterosexual encounter such as this, but he was too busy clinging to any sense of hope to bother mentioning it.

When he looked up again, the man was heading back towards his car and you'd already disappeared into the house. The three of them watched as the living room light flickered on in the distance.

Steve slid off the counter, dragging his feet towards the couch before falling back onto it - as if he'd just completed a half marathon.

Robin and Dustin squished in beside him.

"There's hope." Dustin said.

"Definitely hope." Robin concurred.

"Hope? Did you just see the same man I did? How am I supposed to compete with ..." he motioned vaguely over his shoulder, "he looks like a gladiator!"

"You just have to ask her out before their next date, if she even wants one!" Robin consoled, leaning over to begin picking at the abandoned pizza again.

"Yeah, he just took her on a date, he didn't propose to her. There's plenty of time."

Steve nodded slowly, allowing their wisdom to sink in - trying to ignore the fact that he was taking advice from a teen boy who's girlfriend lived across the country. "You're right ... there is hope."

An idea began to sink into his pretty little head.

The two on either side of him sighed gratefully. Dustin picked up the remote again, pressing play on the movie.

"Great. Now let's finish—"

"Invite me to your movie night." Steve turned to face Dustin, hands meeting the boy's shoulders.

"W-What?"

"Yeah, it's perfect! You invite me, I come over, then you make some excuse and then buzz off to Lucas' or something."

Robin looked affronted, cheeks full of dough, "We have work?"

"I'll call in sick." He waved vaguely at her. "Dealing with Keith is the least of my problems. Dustin?"

The teen's face twisted in consideration, "I... don't know how I feel about pawning my neighbor off on you."

"Come on, please?" Steve's tone dripped in sincerity, "I'll treat her well, I swear."

Dustin sucked in a breath, "Fine—"

All three of them jumped when the ring of the phone against the wall split into the room between them.

"That's probably her." Dustin remarked, climbing up off the couch again and quickly peeling the phone off the dial. "Hello?"

You sighed against the line, grateful that the poor boy was still alive.

"Dusty Bun," you teased, tugging unconsciously at the chain around your neck. "did you survive the night without me?"

He laughed a little against the line, "Yep. Everything is fine."

You smiled, a little bit sad that you'd missed out on your night with your favourite boy. "Hopefully not too fine, or I'll be out of a job."

"Right, sorry. What I meant to say was that it was barely survivable. You'll be here on Thursday, though, right?"

Leaning against the wall you nodded before remembering that he couldn't see you, "Of course. We need to finish Psycho."

Glancing out the window from your living room, you noticed the kitchen light off at the Henderson's. You plucked at the edge of your dress, the question scalding your tongue:

"Dustin, is Steve there?"

You'd recognize that maroon BMW anywhere, seen it already as Ralph pulled into your driveway.

You suspect that it was the reason you ducked to kiss his cheek when he was obviously intent on your lips.

"No!" Dustin choked against the other side of the line, "He's not—"

There was a scuffle on his side and you couldn't help grin, hushed voices echoed in the background and the phone rustled against what you could only assume was Dustin's shirt.

"Well, his car is parked in front of your house—"

"I mean yes." The boy's voice cut through the line again, "Steve and Robin are here, they came to check on me."

An uneasy feeling settled in your chest. Had Steve seen you and Ralph?

You shook the thought off firmly. Good, you hoped he saw you.

A part of you wanted to march over to Dustin's, to step in there looking as good as you did tonight. After you put effort into your hair and makeup, dressing a little bit up for the evening, and maybe parade a little bit in front of Steve but you knew it was only going to hurt the progress you'd made by accepting Ralph's date in the first place.

Steve Harrington was the King of Women in Hawkins and if he could have his pick of the princesses, you knew he wouldn't pick you.

You'd feel nothing less than sick to your stomach and end up crying into your pillow if you went in there and Steve didn't bat an eyelash in your direction.

"Okay good. Well then I don't need to come check on you, right? You should be heading to bed soon, there's school in the morning."

"Uhm, yeah I'll be fine—" He cut himself off with a groan, like he'd been hit. There was hushed murmurings before he returned to the line. "So, how was the date?"

Your mind flickered back over the evening, how Ralph came to pick you up, took you to a nice restaurant in town and made good conversation. Made you laugh.

He wasn't Steve, but then again, nobody was.

"It was good. Really good." You sighed against the line, from exhaustion or content you weren't sure. "I think I'm gonna see him again. He said he rides motorbikes, I told him how you said you'd like to try and he mentioned that he could take you for a spin whenever you want?"

"Ah, awesome!"

You giggled, "Yeah, I thought so too. You should get to bed, bud. I'll drop you at school in the morning if you like? To make up for my absence?"

"Sure."

Even biting your lip couldn't help the words that slipped, "Tell Steve I said goodnight. A-and Robin, tell them both."

"Will do. Night."

The phone clicked loudly against the dial and you pushed off the wall, beelining towards the stairs.

You took an extra long shower, hoping that Steve and Robin would leave in the time you were busy so you wouldn't be tempted to watch by the window from your room.

They did.

The shutters blocked the last of the light from the street when you dropped them against the pane, steeping the room in darkness.

You sighed loudly before sliding into bed, pulling a pillow closer to your chest.

The night had been nice, it really had. Ralph was sweet, he was doting and made noises at all the right parts in your stories. Yes, maybe he was a little boring, not many of his interests aligning with yours.

He spoke about cars and motorbikes and you tried to be interested, the fact that he was willing to entertain Dustin was attractive in its own right.

At the end of the night, before you climbed out the car, he'd asked if you wanted to go to a movie on Friday night. You'd agreed.

He wasn't Steve, but he was nice. And for God's sake you wanted to be treated nicely for a little bit. Was it so wrong to just want to be looked after? To hold someone's hand and have a warm body beside you when Winter inevitably crawls over Hawkins?

The thought was enough to let you close your eyes and slip off into sleep, allow you to pretend that Steve Harrington doesn't matter.

The days that followed were good. Ralph rang the next night, just to check up on you, your car was finally cooperating again and your shifts at the store had been as entertaining as they came.

You'd put Steve's existence firmly out of your mind until you pulled into Family Video at nearly five-fifteen on Thursday afternoon.

Hesitance rumbled through you. Your hand wavered on the door handle, but a tugging in your stomach gave away how excited you were to see him again. To be able to tease him over the counter.

Deciding that making it fast was the best course of action, you climbed from your car and slipped quickly through the entrance, the familiar light jingle pooling your chest in warmth.

Robin's big eyes glanced up at you from where she was examining the contents of a packet of gummy bears.

"Hey, you." She grinned.

You couldn't help how your eyes swept over the store, in desperate search of a moussed and quaffed head of brown hair.

"H-Hey Robs." You pulled your attention back to her.

"Well don't look so disappointed, it's just little old me today."

Passing the counter you offered up as genuine a chuckle as you could muster.

"I'm never disappointed when I see you, Robin," you called over your shoulder, glazing over the horror section to find Psycho II on the top right corner. You swore every time you came in looking for a movie it ended up being on the topmost shelf, always needing to ask Steve for help or just embarrassingly reach at it from your tippy toes.

"Where's your partner in crime?" You hoped you came off nonchalant as you turned back towards Robin, sliding the movie over to her.

The amusement dripping from her smirk was slightly unsettling. "Oh, he had other plans tonight. Ditched me."

A sharp sting plunged through your chest. There's only really one reason why he would abandon Robin in the shop alone.

"Let me guess, that little brunette I saw in here last week wooed him into taking her to see Pretty in Pink tonight?" There really wasn't another feasible reason for you to ask, Robin would likely probe and you shouldn't care, but you just had to know.

"Wooed him?" She laughed, taking you by surprise. "God, you guys are made for each other."

Your head nudged to the side, squinting. "W-What?"

She shrugged you off, "Never-mind, but to answer your question: yes, something like that."

Both ideas tugged at each other for the space at the front of your brain. What is Robin talking about? versus So Steve really is out with someone tonight?

Jealousy twisted hotly through your veins, as if you had any right with Ralph coming to fetch you for your second date in less than twenty-four hours.

In the couple seconds you'd been preoccupied by your thoughts, Robin had already rung up the movie - offering it back to you. "Here you go."

You smiled lightly, "Thanks Robin, I'll ... I'll see you around."

She nodded, smirk dripping in mischief. "Have fun with little Dusty Bun."

The drive back to your street was distracted. The thought of Steve making out with a girl in the back-most row of the cinema during the end credits was enough to almost make you miss the red light on the corner of Walnut and Oak.

Your head was so wrapped around your five minute interaction with Robin in the store that when you stopped at Dustin's house, you marched straight past Steve's car without even noting it's presence.

The cool air from the blasting air-conditioner blew straight past you when you opened the door.

"Dustin!" You called into the house, bouncing down the corridor, desperate to put Steve Harrington out of your mind: "Are you ready for Psycho?"

You began making obnoxious gestures, pretending to be stabbed by imaginary knives from different angles in the abdomen and faking loud grunts of pain.

You rounded the corner to where you could make out the curly topped head of your kid neighbor over the back of the couch.

"Oh, Norman, stop—!"

Staring up at you from the very same couch was just the man you'd intended on pretending didn't exist: Steve Harrington.

"Hey," he grinned at you, making to stand. You blinked down at him, lips frozen around your words.

For god sakes, did he have to make everything so hard by looking so fucking good?

His hair looked fluffy, like it had just been washed - not too much hairspray that it stood very tall, but rather so a couple strands were allowed to swoop down to hang over those warm brown eyes that were looking expectantly up at you and a dizzying yellow sweater that made his skin glow.

"Steve," you sighed. "Hi."

Dustin cleared his throat awkwardly, "I... I invited Steve to join our movie night, if that's fine?"

Steve grinned.

It took a couple seconds to process Dustin's response before you considered them playfully, "Sounds like Harrington is slowly working me out of a job here. Should I send in my application to Family Video now or later?"

Sooner or later you'd have to make peace with Steve's company. Ralph or no Ralph, Steve Harrington was high on the roster of Dustin Henderson's favourite people and if you intended on keeping your substitute little brother around, you were going to have to keep your feelings in your back pocket until they slipped quietly out of existence.

"Maybe wait 'till I resign." Steve chided, "I figure by the end of the week I'll be the full-time nanny here. Claudia already adores me."

You tossed the movie at Dustin, scoffing.

"Go put it in before I leave both of you to have your play-date alone. The nerve of you two ..."

He nodded, shifting off the couch towards the player.

A neat pile of snacks was waiting against the coffee table in front of the couch, you couldn't help notice all the favourites you'd usually pick when you stopped past Family Video.

You slid off your shoes before crashing against the edge of the couch, intentionally as far from Steve who had situated himself in the dead centre.

Dustin returned, taking the opposite end of the couch. You observed him curiously, noting the large gaps between each member on the couch - but said nothing on it.

"So this is what you're ditching work for, Harrington?" You mentioned absently, slowly turning Robin's words over in your mind as you reached for a bag of Twizzlers.

Yes, something like that.

"Yep. I couldn't turn down such a prestigious invitation." His hand dug deeper into the Doritos packet, "Wanted to see if you're actually watching the movies I give you, or you just come past to flirt with me."

A hot red blush raced up the sides of your neck over your cheeks, you didn't look at him - instead trying very hard to focus on the loading television screen. You pulled hard at the piece of your candy with your teeth, chewing slowly.

"In your dreams, Steven."

A shrill ring pierced through the room against the hum of the opening credits. Dustin jumped up quickly, "I should get that—"

Behind you, you heard the phone lift off the wall.

"Hello?"

There was quiet, you'd paused the movie while you waited for the call to end - only the loud munching of Steve's Doritos to distract you.

"Really?" Dustin sounded dramatically excited, your eyebrows pinched curiously at him. "Yeah, yeah, I'll be right over. Bye."

The phone was slammed haphazardly back against the wall, you looked at Dustin confused.

"What's happening?"

"It was Lucas, he said his mom just bought him the new Legend of Zelda. That I could come over and try it out."

You glanced slightly sad between him and the television, "What about the movie—?"

"You guys can keep watching. I'll watch it when I get home, I won't be late." Dustin's eyes clouded with an emotion you couldn't quite make out.

But your duty was to babysit him, not imprison him, so you nodded slowly, "O-Okay sure, have fun I guess."

Dustin was out the door quicker than you anticipated. He grabbed his backpack from his room and the door slammed behind him.

"Guess it's just us." The sound of Steve's voice startled you.

You turned to face him, nodding carefully. "Sure ... do you want to keep watching or, if you don't want to I can head—"

"No!" You jumped at the volume, he chuckled nervously and he reached a tentative hand to your arm. "Sorry, I mean, no ... I'd like to keep watching. With you. If you want to."

Starting to laugh, you shrugged at him, "Sure, but I have to warn you that I'm a really bad movie talker. It drives Dustin nuts."

He visibly eased, "I'm sure I can handle it. Robin's the same."

The movie was clicked back on and you chewed on a freshly opened pack of sour worms loudly.

You commented on the most obvious of moments, pleased when Steve giggled at you - also somewhat puzzled because you definitely knew you couldn't be that funny - and recoiled back into the couch when bloody guts would splatter across the screen.

"I mean, how dumb do you have to be!" You yelled obnoxiously at the television, as if the woman on the screen would turn from entering the obviously dangerous house.

"You know she can't hear you, right?"

Settling back against the couch, you huffed. "Whatever. She's going to die anyways."

The sun had long since disappeared out in the street, the neighborhood lit by the street lamps. Dustin must have been gone an hour already because cool evening was creeping in through the floorboards and the hair on your naked calves stood on end. Although, you couldn't entirely contribute that to the temperature when Steve was sitting less than a foot from you.

You side-eyed the tin of Pringles in his lap. "Can I have some?"

"Come get it."

The sentence pierced a hole in your chest and you felt momentarily breathless. Steve's smugness was radiating off of him in waves.

Trying to avoid meeting his face with your blushing one, you shifted over towards him. "Asshole." You mumbled, dipping your hand into the can before focusing back on the television.

"You're welcome." He nudged you with his elbow, making you suddenly aware of how close he was next to you - his thigh pressing hotly against yours.

A slash of metal splashed ruby red blood across the screen and you flinched back against him, giggling. "Dustin's gonna love this."

"Especially when he realizes they've shown boobs twice now."

You dug your index finger into his ribs under where his arms were folded over his chest. "You're so gross."

"Hey!" He winced from your prodding, "Breasts are one of the few great pleasures in life."

You looked back at the screen, pretending to be unbothered. "If you wanted to see boobs, Steve, you could've just asked."

The breath Steve sucked in was loud. A short silence followed it.

"W-What?"

You glanced up at him, working hard to hold down your smirk, "Why so shy, Stevie?"

It was Steve's turn to blush hot red over the bridge of his nose and up to the apples of his cheeks. The laughs slipped broken from your lips, you wheezed in breaths between them.

"I'm—I'm sorry, I'm just joking Harrington." Your head was tilted back again to match his gaze. He was smiling sheepishly.

"Was starting to get my hopes up there, it's not fair to tease people." His attempt at a counter-strike was weak and you brushed it off.

Your giggles softened, holding his gaze. "I'm sorry, but the look on your face was priceless."

Steve didn't reply, but his eyes were holding yours. Suddenly everything except him felt very far away. You'd never seen the spots on his cheeks from this up close before.

"You've got a nice laugh, has anyone ever told you that?" He whispered, as if divulging some secret.

Despite feeling very exposed with Steve's eyes raking over the edges of your face and down the length of your nose, you couldn't look away.

"You're the first."

A warm hand closed over the skin under your right ear and he sighed when your lips just barely brushed over his.

He tilted his head down to pull you against him when a shriek echoed from the television and you jumped back in fright.

Steve's heart sunk. You've got to be fucking kidding me.

You sat back: eyes wide and alternating between him and the screen.

"Uhm, sorry..." Steve coughed awkwardly and you shook your head, avoiding his gaze.

He glared up at the woman on screen as if she could actually feel his irritation towards her, but still felt a swelling pride in his chest that he'd gotten you so close against him, practically in his arms as he'd dreamt for weeks.

Somehow though, he swore he could feel you buzzing against him, that you wanted it as bad as he did.

Now, you were sliding back down to your original spot at the end of the couch - face bright red in the dim light of only the lamp across the room. "No, it's ... it's fine, I'm sorry." You were speaking more to your chest than to him.

The image of Ralph standing on your doorstep appeared in his mind like a blinding vision. How you'd dodged his lips, instead planting a kiss on his cheek.

You'd just done the same to him.

God, when is this movie gonna end ... Thoughts swirled around Steve's head. He folded his arms carefully.

Did this have something to do with the mechanic? Or did he really just stand no chance with the girl that's been plaguing his dreams since the day he met you?

The air between you was thick. Steve let it permeate while the movie played in the background. It brought him small joy to know the woman who'd screamed earlier and crushed his dream, had just been murdered.

You were quiet, but he could still feel your flickering gazes against the side of his face. He wondered if maybe you were reading his thoughts through the side of his head.

Curiosity nagged at him.

"I didn't see you in the store on Monday." He tried carefully, unable to ignore the itch anymore.

A smile curled at your lip and Steve was suddenly glad he decided to speak. You turned to meet his eye, "Did you miss me?"

"Desperately."

Your smirk stuttered, unsure about the honesty of the response. "Well, I skipped babysitting on Monday. I was out ... I-I went on a date."

"Oh, okay. That's ... nice?" Steve tried to sound as if it was the first time he was hearing this information. "I mean, was it? Was it nice?"

You nodded quickly, very quickly.

"It was nice. Very nice, actually. He's taking me to the movies tomorrow night."

Steve's stomach sank. He had less time than he thought. Maybe that's why his mouth began to run faster than his brain.

"You like him then?" He pressed, "Doesn't look much like your type though."

The words settled into the room. Your eyebrows pinched, turning in your seat to look at him. He could already read the questions forming in your head, biting down on the corner his lip and was slowly realizing that he'd said the wrong thing.

"M-my type?" You asked, "I don't— wait, when did you see him? When did you see Ralph?"

Ralph.

Steve stuttered, scrambling for a way to explain his story in a way that made sense without admitting that he'd been spying on them that night. "Robin and I saw him on Monday night, when we ... when we came around."

"So then you knew where I was on Monday? Why did you ask?"

"Oh, I didn't think you would be on a date ... I thought maybe he was a friend or something." The second he saw your face, he knew he'd only made it worse.

"Right, because I don't go on dates. I can't possibly." You seemed to be growing more offended the more you unwrapped his answers. "And my type? Since when do I have a type? What in your opinion is my type, Steve—"

"I don't know!" He was stumbling now, grasping at straws. "You went out with Jackson Gillespie in high school..."

"And what does that mean?"

Your face was red again, but this time you weren't blushing. The twist in your expression was dripping in hurt.

"Well compared to your Ralph they ... they look nothing alike!" Words were slipping from his lips like water through his hands, too fast for him to consider before they're gone. "He looks like you found him in the forest, like ... like a grizzly bear or something!"

"And who, in your high and mighty opinion, Steve, am I supposed to date?" You guffawed, not a single trace of humor dripping from your tone. "You get to run around with any Ms America lookalike in Hawkins because they're all in love with you, and I'm not allowed to go on one date with a very good looking man who actually shows interest in me!"

"Oh please," he was scoffing now and a little voice at the back of his mind was warning him that he definitely shouldn't be. "As if you don't see how men fall over themselves for you. You skip around town in your cute little skirts and your smart mouth—"

"Like who?" It felt like your eyes were burning a hole through his skull, he'd only just noticed the way your eyes were beginning to well up - fat pools of tears hanging onto your waterline. He felt sick. His tongue stuck immediately to the floor of his mouth. Like me!

"And even if that's true, which it's not, what do you expect me to do? Sit around and wait for them to find the balls to ask me out?"

The room was sweltering.

"Okay, wait—"

But it didn't stop you.

"The only person I was willing to wait for has his pick of any Barbie in the state of Indiana, and it will never be me. But I'm not waiting anymore. I can't be stupid forever."

A heavy tear had broken loose and was running down your cheek.

He squinted, wait. Were you talking about him?

The silence was broken by a wet sniff and the shuffle as you went to stand.

"I-I'm gonna wait for Dustin at home." You were whispering now, he barely caught it.

Steve called your name softly, but you didn't turn. Only the sound of the front door shutting remained after you fled.

Steve sat back against the couch, sighing loudly and running both hands through his hair.

How had the conversation gotten away from him so quickly? A pang of guilt resounded in his chest. He shouldn't have insulted the mechanic. Or implied that you don't go on dates. Honestly, he wished he'd just pulled you in to kiss you even after the interruption.

Maybe if he had, he'd be lying with you between his arms right then instead of occupying the couch alone after sending you home in tears.

The old bed frame creaked when you fell against it.

You tore open the sheets in darkness, the pursuit of light abandoned as you crawled beneath them. Pressing your face against the pillow did little in muting your gasping hiccups, you could still hear when Steve's car pulled out the driveway next door and raced off down the street.

Screwing your eyes shut, you worked to dissolve the image of Steve's confused face from your head.

After less than a half hour, the throbbing against the side of your head had grown to unbearable. You reached blindly in your bedside drawer, lifting out a rattling bottle of pain medicine and swallowing two tablets before crashing back against your mascara stained pillow.

Morning arrived hot after a long night of restless tossing.

You would've stayed in bed until the evening, but the sweltering heat forced you from the sheets and declared you face your reflection in the bathroom mirror.

The house creaked around you, empty and alone as it stood most days. Thoughts tormented you, embarrassment tore through you every time your mind wandered to the night before.

You couldn't believe that you'd lost your cool on Steve like that.

Nausea was a constant companion as you tried to move through your day. Sickened by how you allowed yourself to think there was a sliver of hope for reciprocation when he almost kissed you. Clearly you meant nothing more to Steve than any of the other girls who batted their eyelashes at him.

At some point in the afternoon, you phoned the Henderson house. Claudia answered and you stuttered your way through an excuse for calling.

"Dustin said he wasn't feeling well last night ... I just wanted to check if he's okay?"

"Oh, well he seemed fine this afternoon. He just left for Mike's house, I'll tell him you called."

It took a whole twenty minutes after you'd hung up with Dustin's mother, standing at the phone, that you decided to call up Ralph.

"Listen, I'm really not feeling well today ... yeah, could we do a rain check on the movie tonight?"

"Yes, of course. Maybe next week sometime?"

You couldn't see Ralph that day, not after what happened in the Henderson living room. Your forehead pressed against the wall beside the phone and you sighed loudly.

Dustin was going to be upset. You'd abandoned him to ride his bike to school and ruined what was a perfectly good friendship with someone he cared for deeply.

By almost seven o' clock, the time which Ralph was intending to pick you up, the couch had practically swallowed you whole.

The jingle from the television hummed against the rumble of the cars heading home, you watched only half-attentive - pajama clad legs splayed over the edge of the chair.

The first knock made you shift slightly, only partially sure you'd heard anything at all. But when a second rang through the corridors, louder, you were forced up from the couch.

You were sure it was Ralph. That he hadn't taken the hint, decided to come past anyways, and when your hand closed over the doorknob you were completely ready to feign a cough and kindly nudge him away.

What you weren't ready for, however, was to face Steve Harrington staring down at your across the doorframe.

Your breath caught in your chest, freezing over.

"Hey." He said softly.

Maybe it was your hopeful imagination, but his eyes looked tired: like he also hadn't slept at all. He was in his green Family Video vest and your gaze fell to the small bouquet of pink roses swinging at his side.

"Hey."

He noticed your gaze, lifting the flowers to look at them as if he'd only just noticed them. He dropped his arm back to his side.

"At work," his empty hand fidgeted against the side of his jeans, "they take off fifty cents from my salary for every movie that's returned late and isn't fined."

Your shoulders sank guiltily. "Oh."

Steve tried to ignore the way the look on your face made his head spin. He came on a mission. With a plan. And a pre-planned dialogue so he wouldn't fuck it up again this time.

"But I-I don't fine you, I've never charged you for a late movie ... you're the only person in the whole of Hawkins that I don't fine because of the —that fucking face you make when you know you've gotten away with it again. The way you smile, that full-of-shit smile, it makes me forget my own name."

"Steve—"

But even your eyelashes batting up at him couldn't pull him from his pre-rehearsed lines.

"And I lied. Last night. I knew you were on a date with Rick—"

"—Ralph—"

"Whatever. When you didn't show up at the shop, I phoned Dustin's house to ask where you were then he said you were on a date and I freaked out," The smile creeping up onto your face was only spurring him to keep talking.

"So Robin and I drove over and we were spying on you from his kitchen window."

A gap opened into the space that had gotten smaller since he'd started talking. He sucked in a deep breath.

"So," your voice was soft and lined in that smugness Steve loved so much. "What you're saying is that ... you were jealous? And spying on me?"

"Yes, because you make me crazy." He took another tentative step forward, hoping to inch the crevice between you and him to nothing. "And that guy is really scary looking so I'm really hoping he's not gonna be arriving soon to beat me up, because if I thought I was gonna lose you to some twig from the video store, I'd also kick my ass."

You fidgeted nervously, Steve couldn't help find it endearing, chewing on your bottom lip like you didn't know what to say - a rare phenomenon for your generally smart mouth.

You gestured towards the roses in his hand, "Those for me?"

He lifted them up, nodding slowly.

"Yes." Steve took your hand gently, passing them into your hold. "I came to ask if you wanted to go out on a date with me ... because I think I'm falling in love with you."

The smile curling at the edges of your lips and the way your eyes were twinkling made Steve wonder if he was even awake or if he'd dreamt you up.

"You're very chatty tonight, Steve. Can tell you've got lots on your mind."

He shifted his weight from his one foot to the other, his previous admission still hanging in the air. "Is that a bad thing?"

You shook your head.

"Not normally, but right now I wish you'd just shut up and kiss me."

Steve didn't need telling twice. He cupped your face between his palms, pulling you all the way against him so the roses crushed between your bodies - but he couldn't find the tiniest bit within him to care.

Your lips were warm. So warm. He concluded that the nights he'd lain awake imagining what they'd feel like came nothing close to the hint of spearmint and buttery popcorn against your tongue.

You whined softly against him, hand running up to curl into the hair at the base of his neck and Steve knew immediately that he wouldn't need another kiss from another faceless town girl for the rest of his life.

Still lapping softly at his bottom lip, you began to mumble against his mouth - eyes still screwed shut, Steve was pleased to note - "I'm sorry for losing my shit at you last night ... I was also jealous of all your little girlfriends from the video store. And I promise to make up for the money from the videos ... I'll pay for the first date."

His grip around your waist tightened.

"First off, any girl that's not you doesn't matter. Secondly, shut up about the money - if that's what it cost to get a date with you, then it was worth every cent."

You pulled off of his lips, blinking earnestly up at him. "And when you get bored of me, Harrington?"

He scoffed, a preposterous implication.

"That's not going to happen." His fingers curled between yours, tone twisting sarcastically: "I don't know if you heard me earlier - you might not have because you kind of haven't addressed it and it’s stressing me out - but I did say that I think I'm falling in love with you—"

"I think I'm falling in love with you too, Steven."

A grin overtook him, closing in to kiss you again. "You sure? Not just saying that so I'll shut up and kiss you again?"

Giggling, you nodded. "Pretty sure. Only love can make you look this attractive in a Family Video vest."

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