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sanguineterrain · 2 years

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Sweeter Than This

Summary: you and Steve take the gang apple picking.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Word count: 3.5k

Warnings: heavy dose of pining, kissing, the kids being little shits (affectionate), Steve being a dork!!! <3

Notes: first time writing for Steve Harrington! hope you guys enjoy this one. A reminder that Steve and the Reader are over 18 and that I imagine this taking place after S3.

divider by the wonderful s-tarksintern <3

The radio on your desk crackled briefly before a tinny voice rang through.

"Hello? Y/N?"

You pulled down your sweater, jumping up from the bed to answer. "Steve? Since when do you have a walkie?"

"Oh, I, uh, don't. This is Dustin's… we're, um, almost there. Nancy and Robin couldn't make it, so—"

Another voice interrupted. "Hi, Y/N!"

You smiled. "Hey, Dustin. Excited to go apple picking?"

"We all are!" he confirmed. "And my mom—keep your pants on, dude, you can talk to your girlfriend in a minute."

"She's not my girlfriend!" was Steve's instant reply, and you felt heat bloom up the back of your neck.

"Anyways," continued Dustin. "My mom said I could get a bag of their cider donuts. Isn't that awesome?"

"That's so awesome," you replied, genuinely excited. "I can't wait."

"Okay, come down! We're here."

You pushed the antenna down and grabbed your purse, flying down the stairs. You paused by the door, giving yourself a final onceover in the mirror before heading out. Steve was outside, leaned on the passenger side door of what looked to be the Wheelers' station wagon. He straightened as soon as you walked down the path. Dustin was next to him, waving.

"You can sit up front, Y/N," Dustin informed you cheerily.

"But won't you have to sit in the hatch?"

"It's cool," he shrugged, cheeks puffed into a grin. "You guys should sit up front together."

"O…kay. Thanks." You turned to Steve, crisp fall air sliding through your lungs. "Hi, Steve. Rockin' the Wagon, huh?"

"Unfortunately," he grimaced. "Nancy and Robin bailed, so Nance let me borrow her car to fit everybody."

"Bailed?" you wondered. “That doesn’t sound like them.”

He shook his head. "They both simultaneously came down with the flu, somehow. I think they're full of shit, personally, because Nance is religious when it comes to getting her vitamin C. She has, like, three oranges a day as soon as the temperature drops below sixty."

"Come on, all the good apples will be gone at this rate!" came from inside the car.

Steve rolled his eyes. You laughed, nudging his shoulder.

"Onwards, Harrington. The children have spoken."

"The children are brats."

But he got into the car. You did the same, turning your head to check that everyone was here. Max, Lucas, and Mike were in the backseat, while Dustin and Will had quietly accepted their fates in the hatchback.

"Seatbelts!" said Steve, and there were a few clicks.

"You too, Y/N," he added, lips quirked, and you pulled your belt across, smiling sheepishly.

"Sorry. I ought to be a better role model, huh? Anybody want snacks? I have pretzels, kettle corn, graham crackers…"

"I'll take some pretzels."

"Kettle corn for the win!"

You passed out the snacks, taking care not to drop any when the car pulled away from the curb.

"Don't make a mess, we don't want to dirty up the Wheelers' car," you reminded.

"Hey!" Steve said, glaring at the rear view mirror. "I can literally see you guys throwing pretzels at each other. Cut it out."

"Yes, mom, yes, dad," mumbled Lucas, making all of them giggle.

Steve rolled his eyes. You cleared your throat.

"Steve, would you like a snack?"

He grinned, eyes bright and dark like mahogany.

"Sure, why not. What are my options here?"

"We've got Goldfish, trail mix, and grapes," you said, presenting the Ziplocs with a flourish.

"Oh, Goldfish, no doubt. Here." He took one hand off the steering wheel, tendons flexing as his left hand curved around the leather. His right hand reached towards you, and you opened the baggie, cupping it so it was easier for Steve to take the crackers. He glanced at you, swallowing.

"Thank you, Y/N. Guys, everybody say thank you."

"Thanks, Y/N!" chirped five adolescents.

"Anytime. Steve, you've got crumbs."

"Oh." He swiped at his mouth. "Good?"

"Not quite. Here—" you pulled up the sleeve of your sweater, gently brushing the corner of Steve's mouth.

He swallowed, the corner of his mouth tipping up. "Thanks."

You smiled, popping a grape into your mouth.

"Sure. So, Dustin," you started. "How big is the farm?"

"Four hundred acres. It's been around for almost two hundred years!"

"I hope they have apple taffy," said Mike.

"And pumpkins," added Lucas.

"Pumpkins aren't till next month, dude," Max corrected.

"They could have them!"

As the pumpkin debate continued, you glanced at Steve.

"Hey. Is that a new coat?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah, yeah. Bloomingdale's. Half off, actually."

"Wow," you said. "What a steal."

"I know, right? The inside is super soft. Here, feel."

You hesitated, eyes darting from the jacket to Steve. He was focused on the road, unaware of your hesitation.

"Okay," you murmured, touching the inside of the collar.

It was soft, thick like sheep's wool. You felt the heat from Steve's skin, see the summer freckles still prominent on his neck. The coat was big on him, making him look cozy. You forced your gaze away.

"It's nice," you said hoarsely, retracting. "Looks good on you, Harrington."

His answering grin was sunshine. Butterflies fluttered in your belly.

"Are we almost there?" asked Will.

"We've been driving for ten minutes," replied Steve. "Take a nap or something."

Will's face scrunched. "I'm too old for naps."

"After the year we've had? I don't think so."

To Steve's credit, Will and Lucas both ended up falling asleep in the hour drive it took to get to Berkshire Farms. Max quietly listened to her cassettes and Dustin and Mike occupied themselves with some game you were certain you wouldn't understand.

"Hey, Y/N?" Steve's voice was hushed.

"Hmm?"

"I was wondering, if, um… well, I know you're starting classes soon, but I was wondering if maybe you wanted to, uh, do something."

"Do something?" you asked.

"Yeah. I mean, you'll be at school, but—"

"I'm only a half hour away," you reminded.

"No, yeah, right. And that's awesome, obviously. I'm… I'm glad you're so close. So, I thought we could, you know, do something together."

"See a movie?"

"Yeah, yeah. Like that. But…"

You turned your body all the way, facing him. Gravel crunched underneath the tires as you pulled into the parking lot of the farm. Steve's fingers drummed on the steering wheel. He didn't look at you.

"But what, Steve?" you prompted.

"We're here! Open, open, open!"

You blinked. Dustin jiggled the handles. Steve sighed, telling him to cut it out before unlocking the doors. You followed them out before they all scattered, corralling the group towards the booth to get bags for apple-picking.

"Everybody take a bag," you directed. "No pushing! Guys, come on. Okay, where do we want to go first? How about the golden delicious?"

"My mom wants me to get pink gala," said Mike. "I'll meet you after."

The others echoed similar sentiments.

"Wait—guys, I thought we were going to pick apples together. You're going to leave me by myself?" you frowned.

They exchanged looks before Lucas spoke up. "You won't be alone, Y/N. You'll be with Steve."

"Yeah, Steve's cool," said Dustin. “Don’t you think he’s cool?”

“Well, yeah, of course I like Steve, but—”

"He'll carry your apples for you!" he added and nudged Max, who nodded emphatically.

"Yeah," she agreed. "Uh, Steve's great. You guys would be great… picking apples together."

They stared at you with wide eyes, a few shifting their weight. You relaxed into a smile, finally understanding.

"Okay, okay. You guys want to spend time together before school starts, huh? I get it, we're old and we cramp your style."

"No—" started Will, but was effectively cut off with an elbow from Mike. "Ow, what the hell!"

"That's exactly it, Y/N," said Dustin. "Yeah, whew, we didn't wanna say anything, but we need to go over some plans for high school, you know? I mean, we're gonna be freshmen. It's a big deal."

"What's a big deal?" Steve asked, two apple bags tucked under his arm.

"Nothing. High school stuff. Anyway, we're gonna go pick our own apples. We have walkies," Dustin said, shaking his own radio. "Here, take this one."

He tossed Mike's walkie to Steve, who caught it with one hand. "Whoa, you're ditching us? Come on, guys, Y/N really wanted this to be a thing we did together."

"Steve, it's okay," you soothed, patting his arm. "They want to hang out. We're old and they have important teen matters to address."

"I'm not old!" Steve insisted. His eyes narrowed at Dustin, who was the picture of innocence. "What are you planning?"

"We're not planning anything, Steve. Is it so wrong if we split up for a bit and meet back for lunch?"

They were all beginning to back away. You shook your head fondly.

"Go ahead. Keep your walkies on, though. Will, watch out for bees!"

"'Kay! See ya! Have fun."

They scattered into the orchard, disappearing among the rows of apples. You turned to Steve, who had his arms crossed.

"Those little assholes," he muttered. "You're way too soft on them."

"Aw, they're kids. Besides, I knew they'd want to do their own thing at some point. They should have fun, you know?"

You bumped Steve’s shoulder, not wanting him to be truly upset with them. He sighed, melting.

"Yeah, okay. Guess they deserve it." He took the bags from under his arm. "So where do you wanna start? Golden delicious, right? For the pies?"

You blinked. You'd mentioned making pies for Mrs. Sinclair's bake sale weeks ago.

"You remembered."

"Well, yeah. Your pies are, like, the best thing there."

"Oh, so you only remembered to get free pie, huh?"

Steve's grin was boyish. "Maybe I'm just really dedicated to the Hawkins bake sale."

"Wow, well, good to know where your loyalties lie, Steve," you sighed dramatically. "But if you can be bought with free pie, I guess I'll make the most of it."

You stepped forward and picked a few apples, dropping them ceremoniously into the bag. Steve gently coaxed it out of your grip, dutifully holding it open as you snaked down the aisles.

"Hey, so… that thing I mentioned," he began as you prowled for good apples. "In the car. About us going somewhere?"

"Oh, right! What were you thinking? My school will probably have sports rallies and stuff. We could go to one of those together? Maybe with the others?"

"We could," Steve said weakly. He scratched the back of his neck. "But I was thinking, actually…"

"Steve—I'm sorry, keep talking—but can you get that apple up there for me? On the top branch."

"Sure, sure." Steve reached up, his arm longer than yours, and he plucked the apple from the tree, dropping it into the bag. You nodded, satisfied.

"Good. I think we've got enough. Let's go to the granny smiths next."

You headed down the path, watching for the little signs tied to stakes in front of the trees.

"So, Y/N? What I was saying before."

"Oh my God, yeah, go ahead. Sorry, I didn't mean to cut you off," you said. "So what did you mean?"

"Like, uh… shit." Steve chuckled slightly, cheeks red. "Damn, I used to be good at this."

"Good at what?"

“I, um…”

You were closer now, having entered Steve’s space to pick a pair of bright green apples. He opened the bag for you, never looking away.

“Hey, lovebirds! You there?”

The crackle of the walkie startled you apart. Steve fumbled to dig it out, pressing the button.

“What is it, Dustin?” he answered impatiently.

“Okay, okay, sheesh. We were wondering if you and Y/N are done, ‘cause we’re hungry.”

“I could eat,” you said. “Steve?”

“Sure,” he sighed. “We’ll meet you guys at the car.”

It wasn’t far to the parking lot. Steve carried your apples for you, despite your insistence you could carry a bag. You went to pay for your bags while he went to the car so the kids could get their lunches. You bought a pint of cider to share, smiling when Lucas lit up at the sight.

“Yes!” he said, pumping his fist. “Their cider is awesome.”

You unpacked your lunch—chicken salad—and dug in. Soon, everyone was eating… except Steve. Of course, you noticed immediately.

“Where’s your food, Steve?” you asked.

“Oh, uh, I didn’t bring any. I’m good, you know, I’ll eat tonight.”

Your mouth drew into a pout. “Steve, you should eat.”

“Y/N, it’s okay, really.”

“Dude, you activated her mother hen mode,” Max sighed.

You pulled out a second chicken salad sandwich, sliding it to him. “Here. Take it.”

“No, Y/N, I don’t wanna take your food—”

“You’re not,” you shrugged. “I packed extra just in case. Eat, Stevie, please.”

Steve relented, unwrapping the foil. You beamed, satisfied, and returned to your own food.

“After this, we should look at pumpkins,” announced Lucas.

“It’s not even October. They don’t have freaking pumpkins, man,” Mike sighed.

“Here we go again,” groaned Max.

“There are other fruits,” you offered, but they weren’t listening.

They started roughhousing then, and you reached to pull the food away from the edge.

“Guys, stop,” Steve said. “You’re too close to the table, it’s gonna—”

Someone bumped into the corner. The cider toppled.

“—spill.”

You hissed at the cold, standing. Eighty percent of the cider ended up on your sweater. The other twenty pooled on the ground in a sugary puddle.

“Shit, I’m sorry!” rushed out Mike.

“Sorry, Y/N,” Lucas winced.

“It’s okay,” you sighed, quickly wiggling out of your sweater before the liquid soaked through. “It’ll wash out.”

You grabbed a wad of napkins, patting your sweater. The cider had already begun to set, and you soon gave up, carefully rolling it into a ball. A particularly chilly breeze cut through and you shivered. That’s when you felt something soft being draped over your shoulders.

“Hold on, I think I have a scarf too,” Steve said, standing before you could protest.

You snuggled into his coat, pulling it around your arms. The kids stared at you, all with secretive smiles.

“What?” you asked.

“Nothing,” Dustin said in a voice that made it clear it was something.

Steve returned shortly with a knitted heather gray scarf.

“Won’t you be cold?” you asked.

“I’m okay. Still got my sweater,” he said, gesturing to his yellow pullover.

“Alright, but if you feel cold…”

“I won’t,” Steve laughed. “Promise.”

Your last stop, minus the pumpkins (which were not yet in season, much to Lucas’ dismay), was the gift shop. Will and Max made a beeline for the apple cider donuts. The others were fascinated by the apple-themed trinkets. You particularly were taken by the hand-knitted tea cozies.

“What do you think?” came Steve’s voice from beside you. He held up an enamel pin that said apple-y ever after. “Is this a babe magnet or what?”

You snorted. “Without a doubt. Girls love apple puns.”

“Yeah?” he grinned.

“Mmhm. I do, at least.”

You felt Steve’s eyes on you as you continued looking through the cozies. You held up another with a turkey on it.

“Hey, this reminds me,” you started. "My mom said you could come over for Thanksgiving. If you want. I don't know if you have plans, or…"

"I don't," Steve said. "My folks aren't, uh, much for family dinners.”

"Well, you're always welcome to ours. And I thought maybe it could be fun! I asked Robin and she said she might make it too, so…”

Steve smiled, nodding. "I’d like that. Jesus, wow."

"What?"

"Times like these, I'm, um—I’m really glad I pulled my head out of my ass.” Steve shyly ran a hand through his hair. “God, you probably couldn't stand me back then. I'm happy we met, despite the circumstances. You're the best thing in my life, Y/N."

"Oh," you said, overwhelmed. "Steve, I—well, that's not true. You had Nancy. Have Nancy." Their history was one you were well acquainted with.

Steve shook his head. "No. 'S not the same. She's great, don't get me wrong, but you're… it's like apples and oranges."

“Hmm?”

“Yeah,” Steve said, voice a whisper. “And I, uh… I really like apples.”

Your eyes darted to his lips. Steve watched them do so.

“Y/N! Can I get this? Suzie wants to try this science thing from camp.”

Dustin held up a lighter with tiny apples on it.

“Um, no, you may not,” you scoffed. “Your mom would kill us if you brought that home.”

“She won’t see it! I swear, I’ll be super cautious.”

“No,” you and Steve answered at the same time.

Dustin pouted, disappearing to put it away.

“These kids,” Steve mumbled, hands on his hips.

You hid a smile behind the tea cozy, scooting closer to him.

“Hey. You cold?” he asked.

“Kinda. There’s a draft,” you lied. “Is this okay?”

“Yeah,” Steve said, putting an arm around your shoulders. “It’s okay.”

The car ride home was quieter, apple-picking having effectively worn everybody out. Huey Lewis sang about the power of love, only slightly muted from how old the car’s radio was. Steve had fastened the apple-y ever after pin to the collar of his sweater. You smiled every time your gaze fell on it.

You dropped Max off first, then Lucas, then Mike and Will, who were having a sleepover. Dustin was the last, living the closest to your house. He gave a little wave and a thumbs-up before racing up the steps. Eventually, you were in front of your house. Steve parked and got out for you, carrying your bags of apples to your doorstep.

“Thank you,” you grinned. “Again. You’ve been a huge help today, Steve.”

“Oh, well, y’know, gotta have somebody to tag-team those rascals.”

“You were great. You’re always great,” you added, heart thumping.

Steve’s expression was soft, eyes warm. “I had a lot of fun, Y/N.”

“Me too! I love hanging out with you.”

You stared at each other for a long moment before you turned abruptly, fidgeting with your house keys.

“Um, okay, well, I’m gonna head in. Oh! Crap, your coat. And your scarf. Uh—”

You dropped your keys and winced. Steve slowly retrieved them as you shrugged off his jacket and unraveled the scarf. As soon as he straightened, you tossed them over his head like he was an unsightly lamp.

“Shit! Sorry.” Pull it together, Y/N.

Steve’s shoulders were shaking as he bit his cheek to restrain his laughter. That got you giggling, and soon you were both breathless, snorting and wheezing. He pulled the coat off his head, tucking it under his arm. You couldn’t help another giggle at the flyaway hairs from the static.

“Here, lemme just—” you gently flattened Steve’s hair, hand lingering down his arm and finally falling back to your side.

His smile was fond. “Thanks.”

“Sure thing. Wouldn’t want you coming across any groovy chicks with hair out of place.”

“Groovy?” he teased.

“What! People say groovy,” you defended.

“Nobody under forty.”

“That does it,” you decided. “No free pie for you, Steve Harrington.”

“Aw, come on! Alright, how ‘bout this: we can bring groovy back. You’ll make it popular again.”

“Hm. Okay, fair enough. I’ll save you a pie.”

“Groovy,” he grinned, handing you your keys.

You snorted, turning and picking up your bags, struggling only for a moment before you got the door open. Steve kept a hand on the door so you could get inside and put the bags down.

“Okay. Good. Good stuff. So, uh…”

“Y/N?”

You turned back around. “Yeah—yes, Steve?”

Steve was close, closer than he’d been all day. Your heartbeat picked up as he leaned in, hand coming up to cup your face. You both paused, waiting.

“Can I–?”

You nodded, eyes already fluttering shut. Steve tasted like sugar and cider. Your hands curled into his hair, nose pressing into his cheek. His lips were soft, a little cold from the weather. You could feel his body heat through his sweater and you tugged him in.

The door hitting your butt made you flinch. Steve pulled back, concerned.

“Door,” you chuckled breathlessly, hands resting on the nape of his neck.

“Oh,” he said, thumb brushing your cheek.

“So…”

“So,” Steve echoed. “Was that, uh, okay?”

“More than okay. Really, really great, actually.”

“I can’t take all the credit,” he shrugged. “I am wearing the pin.”

“Oh, I see,” you grinned. “Well, what do you and your pin say to coming over Saturday and helping me make pies?”

“We would enjoy that very much, but I should warn you I’m incredibly accident-prone in the kitchen.”

“That’s alright,” you said slyly.

His lips were pink and slightly swollen. You felt excitement curl in your belly at the prospect of getting to kiss Steve Harrington again and again. You drew him in, lips resting on his.

“You can be the taste-tester.”

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