#and maybe that’s a good thing but it’s also breaking my heart | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

la-fille-en-aiguilles · 3 days ago

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There's No Way

Steve Harrington x Female Reader

Loosely based on "There's No Way" by Lauv. Slow-burn, friends-to-lovers. Featuring sort of modern-day / old money Steve (there are phones but also VHS? :D)

One.

The smell of charcoal and lake water hung thick in the air as cicadas hummed in the distance. Lover’s Lake glittered under the golden haze of the setting sun, a familiar scene that somehow still felt special every time summer rolled around.

Robin tossed a burger onto the grill with a practiced flick of her wrist, the sizzle of meat filling the quiet space between them. “Alright, I’m just gonna say it - Steve, you are officially the most bougie of all of us. The Hamptons? Really?”

Eddie snorted, taking a swig of his beer. “Yeah, Stevie, how was your luxurious East Coast retreat? Tennis with the Kennedys? Yachting with the Rockefellers?”

Steve rolled his eyes, reclining in his fold-out chair. “Oh, bite me. It was a family thing. Not my fault my parents have weird rich-people traditions.”

Nancy smirked over the rim of her cup. “So no secret country club scandals? No whirlwind summer romance?”

“Yeah, Harrington, tell us the truth. Did you break some poor heiress’s heart?” Eddie waggled his eyebrows.

Steve scoffed. “I spent most of the time avoiding conversations about future investments and trying not to die of boredom.”

Robin gasped dramatically. “Tragic.”

Steve shot her a look but grinned anyway, shaking his head. This was nice. Comfortable. Everyone had been scattered all over the place over the past year - college, jobs, moving in and out of Hawkins - but somehow, summer always brought them back.

“So,” Eddie leaned forward, “what about you, Buckley? How’s college treating you?”

Robin’s face lit up. “Amazing. My roommate and I went to this killer concert a few weeks ago - front row, totally insane.”

“Wait, the roommate?” Nancy asked, smirking.

“Yes, the roommate,” Robin confirmed, rolling her eyes.

Steve sat up straight, sensing an opportunity. “Oh, you mean the one you’re secretly obsessed with?”

Robin groaned. “I am not obsessed -”

“You totally are,” Eddie cut in. “You bring her up constantly.”

“Okay, maybe because she’s cool as hell? She’s from New York, she’s got this whole effortless vibe going - like, she walks into a room and people just can’t help but stare. And she’s stupidly nice on top of that. It’s unfair, really.”

Steve raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like someone’s got a little crush.”

“Shut up,” Robin muttered, but her ears turned pink.

Eddie laughed. “Nah, Steve, she’s right though. I’ve met New York - she’s a cool kid. Got the whole leather jacket, sharp wit thing going, but she’s not an asshole about it. Makes you feel like the uncoolest person in the room, but in, like, a friendly way.”

Nancy grinned. “I like her already.”

“Good,” Robin said solemnly. “Because she’s coming to visit next week. And I expect all of you to be nice and welcoming.”

Steve smirked. “I don’t know, Robin. What if I feel intimidated by her overwhelming coolness?”

Robin snorted. “Oh, I am so counting on it”.

---

Later that night, as the fire crackled and the group dwindled into smaller conversations, Robin found Steve alone by the lake’s edge. The water lapped gently at the shore, moonlight catching in the ripples.

“So,” she started, nudging his arm. “How’s the single life treating you?”

Steve exhaled, staring at the water. “Fine, I guess.”

“You and Nance good?”

“Yeah. It was mutual.” He glanced back at Nancy, who was laughing at something Eddie was saying. “We want different things. No drama, no hard feelings.”

Robin nodded. “Good. I mean, you know I love you both, but… it was kinda inevitable.”

Steve huffed a laugh, shaking it off. “Yeah, yeah.”

She hesitated, then said, “So, uh… just a heads up? About New York?”

Steve frowned. “What about her?”

Robin’s lips twitched as she paused as if mentally fighting with herself. Biting on her bottom lip, she threw her hands up in the air. “Oh, screw this. I just know you, Steve. And I know she’s exactly your type. And I’m telling you, please, for the love of God - keep it in your pants.”

Steve choked on a surprised laugh. “Oh, come on now, Buckley!”

“No, I mean it,” Robin insisted. “You’re gonna take one look at her, and it’s gonna be all heart-eyes, and I just - Steve, I need this friendship to not be ruined by your tragic inability to control yourself around beautiful women.”

Steve grinned, placing a hand over his chest. “Robin, I can handle myself. Cross my heart.”

Robin didn’t look convinced. She gave him an unimpressed look. “Mmm-hmm.”

Across the fire, Eddie caught the tail end of their conversation and smirked.

“Yeah, no,” he muttered to himself. “No way Harrington’s not going there.”

Two.

The sky was painted in shades of pink and orange, streaks of gold reflecting off Lover’s Lake as the sun dipped lower. The gathering was bigger this time—more voices, more laughter, a familiar kind of chaos. Someone had brought a speaker, and music floated through the warm air, blending with the crackling of the bonfire and the distant splash of the younger kids skipping rocks at the water’s edge.

Steve stood by the shore, his Ray-Bans perched on his nose, arms crossed as he exchanged lazy jabs with Dustin.

“I’m just saying,” Henderson grinned, arms flailing for emphasis, “it’s honestly embarrassing how bad you are at Mario Kart. Like, actually humiliating.”

Steve scoffed. “Oh, shut up. Those blue shells are rigged, and you know it.”

“Excuses, excuses - ”

Dustin stopped mid-sentence, his mouth still open but his eyes widening. “Uh, who is that?”

Steve frowned at the interruption. “Who’s who—”

Then he turned.

And there you were. Walking down the beach, the glow of the fading sunlight catching in your beautiful loose hair, making it look almost unreal. Effortlessly cool in the most casual outfit, like you hadn’t even tried but still managed to steal the entire scene.

Conversations around Steve stuttered, people’s eyes drifting toward you like a magnet.

You didn’t even notice.

You smiled, your confidence radiating as you made a beeline for Robin, pulling her into a tight hug.

Steve barely registered Dustin saying, “Dude, you’re staring.”

“That’s New York,” Steve muttered, still watching as you and Robin swayed in your hug, laughing.

“That’s New York?” Dustin hissed, his eyes following your every move. “That’s the girl Robin’s always talking about? She somehow forgot to mention that she looks like she just stepped out of a movie.”

Steve huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “Dude, she’s like super old for you. She’s also too cool for us mere mortals.”

Eddie, standing nearby, caught sight of you and broke into a grin. “Oh, hell yeah — New York!”

You turned, eyes lighting up as you spotted him. “Munson!”

Eddie opened his arms. “Come here, you leather-clad menace.”

You laughed, walking straight into his hug. “Still trying to make the whole ‘cult leader’ thing work?”

“Uh, duh?! And you still out here making the rest of us look like fashion disasters?”

“Uh, duh?” you mirrored, smirking at him.

Robin grinned, turning toward the rest of the group. “Alright, everybody, this is New York. Be nice, or I’ll personally kick your asses.”

You were introduced around, your sharp wit balanced by a genuine warmth that made it impossible not to like you. Steve, still watching from the sidelines, felt that weird pull in his chest, the kind that came with meeting someone you know is going to matter.

Dustin slowly grinned from ear to ear, catching the look on his face. “Uh oh. What’s with the look?”

Steve scoffed, frowning. “What look?”

“You know what look,” Dustin rolled his eyes.

Before Steve could argue, Robin dragged you toward him. “And this —” she gestured dramatically, “this is Steve.”

You tilted your head, a smile sleeping on your lips, your eyes scanning over him - in a way that made his pulse spike. “Ah. The infamous Steve Harrington.”

Steve snickered. “Infamous, huh? That how Robin describes me?”

Your lips twitched. “Not exactly. But lucky for you, second-hand opinions are not my thing”.

He let out a low chuckle, gazing at you. “Well, how’s the first impression, then?”

The group around you went silent, subtly watching, like they could feel something happening.

You tilted your head ever so slightly, as if considering him. “I think the jury’s still out.”

Steve grinned. “Good”, he said, running fingers through his hair. “I love a challenge.”

That surprised a soft laugh out of you - and Steve wasn’t sure if it was the orange hue of the setting sun or something else entirely, but your eyes lit up. And he thought he’d very much love to see more of those little sparkles dancing in the your irises.

---

A couple of hours in, the party had settled into a comfortable rhythm — some people gathered near the bonfire, others sprawled out on blankets near the lake. Max and Lucas were in the middle of a heated argument about something, while Robin and Eddie had started an impromptu debate over the best concert they’d ever been to.

You sat on a log near the fire, sipping from a plastic cup, when Dustin plopped down beside you.

“So,” he pushed, grinning mischievously, “what’s your deal?”

You turned to face him, curious. “My deal?”

“Yeah, you know. The whole mysterious, effortlessly cool, sarcastic but somehow also really nice thing you have going on.”

You smiled at him softly, taking a gulp of the drink you’ve been nursing. “Ah. Well, I think that’s very cool of you to come up and ask”, you winked at him. “Please, go ahead and inspect away. I’m an open book”.

Dustin hummed in approval. “Okay, think we got the “really nice” part validated.”

You laughed, nudging his shoulder. “Cute.”

Eddie and Steve, who had been lingering nearby talking about Harrington’s BMW that’s been acting out lately, turned their attention towards you.

Munson snorted, jumping in. “Kid, she grew up in New York. She’s got at least a decade of experience in making people cry with one sentence. I would hold off on any sort of validations for now.”

You rolled your eyes at him kind-heartedly. “It’s a weapon I seldom use, Eds, you know that.”

Paying Eddie’s antics and your comeback no mind, Dustin continued. “And you sure know how to make an entrance. So that also sorta checks the coolness box?” He then pointed at Steve. “I gotta say, I think you’re the first person I’ve ever met who might be able to outmatch the good old King Steve in the coolness department.”

Steve scoffed. “Different sides of the spectrum, Henderson. There’s cool and then there's douchebaggery”.

You smirked at his auto-derision. You might have heard a couple of things about King Steve before coming here. “Robin told me you put the crown behind you?”

Steve scratched the back of his head, lowering his gaze. There was something vulnerable about him then.

“Never had one to begin with”, he simply said, his brown eyes seeking out yours.

You held his stare for a moment, and it was like everything else dimmed slightly — the music, the laughter, the conversations around you.

Seconds before the electricity started cracking between you, Steve took a sip of his drink, breaking the spell. Clearing his throat, he asked, “So. How’s Hawkins treating you so far?”

You released a breath and shrugged. “From what I’ve seen so far today, it’s… different. Quieter than I’m used to, but nice. I can see why Robin likes it here.”

“Yeah, it’s not New York, but it grows on you,” he pushed his hands in the pockets of his jeans, stepping closer.

You studied him. “You ever been?”

He shook his head. “Nope. But I feel like I’d get eaten alive.”

That unexpected honesty granted him a smile. You bit the inside of your cheek, pretending to think about it. “Yeah, maybe. But at least you’d have had fun first.”

Steve laughed. “If you say so”. It’s not before he moved to seat beside you that you realized both Dustin and Eddie were nowhere to be seen. For a brief second, you wondered how long they’ve been gone for.

But then your eyes met Steve’s again. “I think you’d like it more than you think.”

The conversation continued, flowing easily between you. You talked about music, the best dive bars you both have been to, about how Steve still couldn’t figure out how to properly work a jukebox (you stared at him in disbelief and promised to teach him - because that was no way to live).

At some point, Robin, watching from a distance, leaned toward Eddie and muttered, “Oh, this is bad.”

Eddie didn’t miss a bit, taking a sip of his drink. “No - this is inevitable.”

—

By the time the fire had burned low and the night air had cooled, you and Robin found yourselves making your way to the cars, spotting Steve next to his BMW. “I can’t drive”, you told her, eyeing your Jeep parked under the trees on a side of the road. “Shouldn’t have dangled that G&T in front of my face, Buckley”.

Before Robin could deny all fault, Steve waved you both over.

“I’ll drive you guys back,” he offered casually.

Robin shot him a suspicious look. “Didn’t you drink whiskey, Harrington?”

Steve scrunched his nose. “That shit Billy brought? Come on, Buckley, pretty sure he sucked that thing outta his gas tank.”

Before either you or Robin could protest, he swung open the passenger door, beckoning you in with a nod.

The drive was quiet, comfortable. With her temple pressed against the window, Robin passed out before you even crossed the city line.

You stared out the backseat window, house watching as white facades rolled by. Steve’s car smelled nice. Something sweet and heady, with a hint of wood.

As your gaze slid across the back of the leather seats, you caught Steve’s eyes in the rearview mirror. He gave you a soft smile, before switching his attention back to the road.

When you reached Robin’s place, Steve stepped out of the car and walked around to open the door for you. You carefully shook the girl awake and slid out first against the background of her sleepy muttering. Your arm brushed against Steve’s as you moved past him.

It was the smallest touch. Barely there.

But even with her eyes misted with sleep, Robin saw the way Steve’s fingers twitched, like he wanted to reach for more.

She saw the way you hesitated for a second, like you felt it too.

And as you said your goodbyes and walked toward the door, Robin exhaled, shaking her head.

She’d be surprised if Steve and you didn’t end up going there. Not with the way you were already looking at each other - and you’d only just met. -

Three.

“You drive like an old man.”

Steve shot you an incredulous look as he pulled into the parking lot of the grocery store. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me, Harrington,” you teased, unbuckling your seatbelt. “Ten and two, checking your mirrors every five seconds… I’m shocked you didn’t use a blinker in the parking lot.”

Robin snorted from the backseat. “He totally did.”

Eddie leaned forward between you and Steve, grinning. “I hate to agree with New York, but yeah, dude, you drive like you’re taking your driver’s test every time.”

Steve scoffed, throwing the car into park. “It’s called being a responsible driver. Sorry I don’t drive like a lunatic.”

You smirked. For some reason, you loved getting a rise out of him. “Yeah, yeah. Come on, Grandpa, let’s get the snacks.”

Harrington rolled his eyes but couldn’t fight the smile creeping onto his face as he followed you inside.

There was something easy about being around you. Like you had fallen into step with each other without even realizing it.

Robin noticed.

Eddie noticed.

But neither of them said anything.

Both watched the two of you dance around each other instead, like you had known each other forever. Usual knowing smirks plastered across their faces as you and Steve bickered over which snacks to get for the movie night happening at his house.

“We have to get Twizzlers,” Steve insisted, tossing a pack into the cart.

You wrinkled your nose. “Come on, Harrington. They taste like wax.”

Steve gasped in mock horror. “Take that back.”

You smirked, plucking the pack out of the cart and putting it back on the shelf. “I refuse to enable bad choices.”

Robin covered her mouth, stifling a laugh watching Steve gape at you wide-eyed. “Oh, and who made you an expert ? You just picked up —” he glanced at the bag in your hand, “—what even is that? Trail mix?”

“With chocolate,” you supplied pointedly, throwing it into the cart.

Steve groaned. “You’re a menace.”

“Thank you.”

Eddie leaned over to Robin. “They flirting, or am I having a stroke?”

Robin grinned. “Flirting. Hard.”

Steve, blissfully unaware of their commentary, was still watching you with an exasperated but amused expression. “Tell you what, let’s compromise. I get my Twizzlers, you get your weird health snack.”

You pretended to consider it. “Alright, deal.”

Steve tossed the Twizzlers back into the cart, shooting you a victorious look. “Sucker.”

You just rolled your eyes, but the way you smiled at him made something flip in Steve’s chest.

Huh. That was new.

---

All groceries paid and loaded (Steve all but blocked your access to the cashier, refusing to let any of you pay) - you headed over to Family Video for the movie selection.

Robin, boasting her ex-employee knowledge just a bit, took charge immediately. “Alright, we need something good—”

“Oh, I get a say in this,” you interjected immediately, scanning the shelves. “Last time I let you pick, we ended up watching some—” she glanced at Steve and Eddie, “—very artistic foreign film that was just two hours of sad people staring out of windows.”

Steve snorted. “Yeah, sounds about right.”

“Excuse you!” Robin scoffed. “That movie had depth.”

“...of a mud puddle,” you supplied, ignoring her.

Steve grinned at you. “Okay, definitely letting you pick the movie for tonight.”

Before you could reply, someone stepped into the aisle, their presence immediately shifting the air.

Steve noticed Jason Carver before he could make his presence known, but didn’t react. With a bit of luck, Jason would just get on with his mission to make someone miserable today. So Steve just leaned against the shelf and watched.

Jason’s eyes swept over the group before landing on you.

No such luck, then.

“Hey,” he said cheerfully, stepping closer with that too-polished, practiced smile. “Haven’t seen you around before.”

You barely glanced up from the VHS tapes in your hands. “I’m visiting.”

Jason leaned against the shelf beside you. The guy wasn’t great at taking a hint, apparently. “From where?”

“New York,” you said absently, your fingertips grazing the VHS as you hesitated.

Jason let out a low whistle. “Damn. Bit of a change coming to Hawkins, huh?”

You hummed in vague agreement, still not looking at him.

Steve watched from a few feet away, arms crossed over his chest. He told himself he didn’t care. He told himself he wasn’t annoyed.

Robin, standing next to him, called bullshit.

She smirked. “You ok there, Harrington? Want me to press down on your hair so you don’t blow the top off?”

Steve forced a nonchalant smile. “I’m actually enjoying this”.

Robin grinned and nodded in agreement. “Like watching a car accident happen right in front of me.”

Meanwhile, Jason, undeterred by your clear lack of interest, kept talking. “So, what do you do in New York? Model?”

That got your attention. Looking up, you blinked at him, unimpressed. “Seriously?”

Jason smirked, encouraged by you finally looking at him. “Hey, just saying”, he threw his hands in the air. “You sure got the look.”

Before you could respond, Eddie popped his head in the aisle, holding what looked like a good old comedy. “Alright, I’ve got the winner—”

Carver turned to look at him then, his expression instantly shifting. “Oh, great. The freak’s here.”

You stilled.

The change in your demeanor was drastic. The air cracked with tension.

You slowly turned to fully face him, fixing Jason with a look so sharp and cold that it could’ve sliced through glass.

“Are you actually for real now?” you said flatly.

Jason scoffed. “What? Just stating facts.”

Your lips curled in a dangerous smile. There was no stopping you now. Dude has crossed the line. “Here’s another fun fact for you, dickhead. They say a frightened dog barks the loudest. I can ask the store manager to call your mom. She’ll come get you.”

Jason’s jaw tensed. “I was just—”

“Don’t bother, we get it,” you continued, merciless eyes still locked onto him. “You peaked in high school. You’re clinging to relevance by being a jackass to people who actually moved on with their lives. Get the fuck on with your miserable existence somewhere else.”

Jason opened his mouth - just to shut it again. Eddie, grinning, casually handed you the VHS tape he found.

You took it without looking, brushing past a flabbergasted Carver as you made your way to the front of the store.

Robin followed, biting back laughter - just barely.

Steve, who had been watching without even trying to conceal his amusement, exhaled, shaking his head as he pushed off the shelf.

Eddie, still smirking, clapped Jason on the shoulder. “Tough break, man.”

Jason glared daggers at him. “Fuck off, Munson.”

Feeling ten feet tall and generous, Eddie gave him a tiny goodbye wave, leaving him biting the proverbial dust.

---

By the time you piled into Steve’s car, the tension had dissolved into laughter.

Eddie sighed dramatically, placing a hand over his chest. “I love being a damsel in distress. Might get used to it.”

You smirked at him in the rearview mirror. “You’re welcome, Princess.”

Steve glanced at you briefly as he pulled out of the parking lot. But you still caught the awe in his eyes.

“You do that often? Publicly humiliate douchebags?”

You shrugged. “This one needed a reality check. Thought I’d do the Hawkins community a favor.”

Robin grinned. “You should’ve seen his face. I’ll be living off that moment for weeks.”

Eddie sighed, leaning back. “You are now my favorite New Yorker, by the way.”

You chose to ignore the fact that you were probably the only New Yorker Eddie really knew. “I better be.”

Steve forced himself to focus on the road, trying - and failing - to ignore a twisting sensation in his chest.

He thought back to Robin’s warning.

“Don’t go there.”

But as you sat in his passenger seat, casually flipping through the VHS tape like you hadn’t just verbally emasculated Jason Carver in public, Steve knew—

Robin was right.

He was pretty much halfway there.

And he wasn’t sure there was any turning back.

Four.

Steve’s house was, as advertised, big and empty.

Robin and Eddie wasted no time sprawling blankets and pillows across the floor in front of the massive TV, with Steve helping arrange everything while you ran upstairs to the bathroom.

As soon as you were out of earshot, Robin refused to miss a beat. “So, Steve, wanna talk about how you’re pining?”

Steve sighed dramatically, throwing the last pillow he just brought from a guest room into the pile on the floor. “Jesus Christ.”

Eddie grinned, flopping onto the makeshift giant bed they built. “No, no, it’s cute, man. I mean, I knew you’d be toast the second you laid eyes on her, but this whole slow-burn thing? Didn’t see it coming. Thought you’d be making a move by now.”

��There’s no slow-burn!” Steve exclaimed, exasperated. “Just drop it already, guys, dead serious. Nothing’s going on.”

Robin snorted. “Sure, Steve. And I’m the Queen of England.”

“Bow to your majesty,” Eddie said, throwing a pillow at Steve’s head.

Steve caught it easily, shaking his head as he tossed it back. “You guys are so annoying.”

Robin and Eddie shared a look, their smirks identical.

Giving up on the pair, Steve glanced at the staircase, realizing you had been gone for a while.

“I’m gonna check on her,” he said, waving off their knowing glances as he headed upstairs.

---

He found you in the foyer, standing still in front of the only framed photo of him as a kid.

It was an old, staged portrait — him, no older than five, dressed like a perfect little country club baby in a polo and khakis, standing stiffly in front of a white column. No smile. Just blank, polite obedience.

He stopped a few feet away, watching you.

“That’s the only one in the whole house,” he said quietly.

You turned to look at him, then back at the photo. “No baby pictures?”

Steve shook his head. “None on display, at least.”

You studied the photo for a moment longer before glancing at him again. Your voice was soft when you asked, “Were you that serious as a kid?”

Steve let out a bitter breath of a laugh. “No. I mean, not naturally. But when the only times your parents want a picture is when they’re forcing you into one, you learn to stand still and shut up.”

You frowned slightly, your gaze thoughtful.

Steve surprised himself by continuing. “They were… cold, I guess. Still are. Always busy. Always away. They had expectations, and I followed them. For a while.” He huffed. “Didn’t last.”

You didn’t blink, watching him closely. “And now?”

Steve swallowed. “Now, I just try to do things my way.”

There was something knowing in your expression. A small, almost timid smile grew on your lips. “That’s why I think you’re kind of amazing, you know.”

Steve blinked. “What?”

You turned to fully face him, leaning casually against the wall. “You could’ve turned out like that—” you gestured to the framed, lifeless photo, “—but instead, you’re… you.”

Steve let out a quiet laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t think I’m all that impressive.”

“You’re kind,” she said simply. “Given everything, that’s impressive.”

There was a shift in the air. The kind that made Steve suddenly hyper aware of how close you were standing. You held his gaze, and for a moment, neither of you said anything.

Felt like words were not necessary. Your bodies ached for their turn to take control.

Then —

“HEY, GUYS! MOVIE’S STARTING!”

Robin’s voice echoed up the stairs, breaking the spell.

Steve cleared his throat, looking away as he took a step back. “We should — uh — head down.”

You nodded, pushing off the wall. “Yeah.”

You descended the stairs in silence, and Steve begged whoever listened that you couldn’t hear his heart hammering in his chest.

---

By the time you settled in for the movie, Steve barely knew what was happening on the screen. You were squished between him and Robin, and even though he wasn’t technically touching you, Steve could feel your warmth beside him.

He tried to focus, but every time you shifted, every time you laughed at something on screen, every time you adjusted the blanket around your shoulders, he felt it. All the way deep in his bones.

Then, at some point, you shifted closer, tucking your legs up and leaning against him, your head resting lightly against his shoulder.

Steve froze.

A quick glance around the room told him Robin and Eddie were already half-asleep.

You were breathing evenly against him, surrendered to a peaceful sleep.

Steve swallowed hard, staring blankly at the TV.

The thing was — he knew, deep down, this was going to be history — sooner than later.

But right now, at this moment, it didn’t seem to matter all that much. What mattered was him not moving. Because if he moved, you might wake up.

Right now, you curled against him, trusting and warm and peaceful - that's what mattered.

So Steve stayed still, staring at the screen without really seeing it.

Because nothing except for your warmth and your sweet breath mattered that much - if at all.

Five.

Benny’s Diner was buzzing with the late breakfast crowd, but at your booth near the window, the four of you had carved out your own little world.

The vibe was soft and easy, filled with sleepy laughter and clinking coffee mugs.

Steve sat across from you, his arm draped over the back of the booth, pretending to listen as Eddie and Robin bickered over their orders. But in reality, his focus kept drifting.

To you.

To the way your knee kept brushing his under the table. To the scent of your perfume—something warm, slightly sweet, and completely distracting. To the way you tucked your silky hair behind your ear as you read the menu, biting back a smile at whatever dumb joke Robin had just made.

He was aware of you in a way that made him feel off balance - and it wasn’t just this morning.

It was how you’d woken up still tucked against him, completely unbothered by the fact that you’d spent the night like that. You had blinked up at him with that sleepy, bright smile and murmured, “Morning, Harrington. Sleep well?”

And he had lied through his goddamn teeth. Because the truth was, he hadn’t slept at all.

Too afraid to move. Too afraid to wake you up. Too aware of every shift of your breath.

The memory was so distracting that he barely registered it when you said his name.

“Steve.”

He blinked, snapping back to reality. “Huh?”

You smiled suspiciously, tilting your head to a side. “You good over there? You spaced out.”

Eddie giggled like a gremlin, looking at him knowingly.

Steve cleared his throat, shifting. “Uh, yeah. What was the question?”

You laughed. “I was asking if you were gonna come with us to Eddie’s uncle’s cabin today.”

Steve barely had time to process before Eddie jumped in, looking far too pleased. “Yeah, Stevie-boy. Thought we’d spend the night upstate, get out of town for a bit.”

Robin nodded sagely. “No parents. No civilization. Just us, a questionable cabin, and probably a family of raccoons.”

You grinned. “What do you say, Harrington? You in?”

Steve opened his mouth — only to groan as he remembered. “Shit. I can’t. My parents’ White Party. Annual bullshit. I have to go, or they’ll have an aneurysm.”

Robin immediately covered a very obvious “Bougie” with a cough.

Steve shot her a look.

You pouted, resting your chin on your hand. “Lame.”

Eddie sighed dramatically. “Gone too soon. Taken from us before his time.”

Steve rolled his eyes, but before he could say anything else, you leaned in and wrapped your arms around him in a tight hug.

“Come find us after,” you murmured into his ear. “If you survive.”

Steve barely found the brainpower to breathe, let alone respond, before you pulled back and stood up.

Robin and Eddie followed you to the checkout counter, already making plans for the evening.

Steve just watched you go - completely smitten.

---

The White Party was exactly as soul-sucking as expected.

Steve leaned against the marble bar, nursing a whiskey, his white linen shirt sleeves rolled up as he endured yet another conversation about investment portfolios and European boarding schools.

Jason Carver was here, of course.

Leaning smugly against the bar with his usual crew, talking too loudly, probably making some poor girl miserable.

Steve ignored him.

He didn’t even have to put too much effort into the “ignoring” part - all he could think about was this morning.

Your voice. Your laugh. Your stupid perfume that was still somehow all around him.

He sighed, rubbing a hand down his face -

And then his phone rang.

He frowned, glancing at the unknown number before picking up. “Hello?”

“Steve?”

He immediately straightened. “New York?”

You exhaled, relieved. “Oh, thank god, you picked up. Listen, I—hold on—Robin, stop laughing, this is serious— okay, sorry, our car may have gone off the road—”

“What?”

“—into the mud.”

There was a cackle in the background.

Steve pinched the bridge of his nose. “You crashed?”

“No, Eddie got us stuck,” you corrected. “I was just the unfortunate passenger.”

There was more muffled laughter in the background.

You sighed. “We tried pushing it out, but we’re just making it worse. And I hate to bother you while you’re at your elite socialite gathering, but, uh… we’re kinda screwed.”

Steve didn’t even hesitate.

“Where are you?”

“Halfway up to the cabin. Robin can text you the mile marker—”

“I’ll be there soon.”

There was a pause, then a smile in your voice. “Really?”

Steve just shook his head, already heading for the door. “Like I’m gonna leave you guys stranded.”

Behind him, Jason called something snide, but Steve didn’t care.

He was already leaving.

Six.

By the time Steve arrived, it was pitch black except for the high beams of Eddie’s car reflecting off the trees.

And the mud.

So. Much. Mud.

Steve swore under his breath as he pulled up in his very much not made for off-roading BMW, still dressed in white. He really should have gone home to change first.

Up ahead, Robin was in the driver’s seat, revving the engine as you and Eddie pushed from behind, your shoes sinking into the slop.

He barely had time to assess the situation before Robin caught sight of him.

“Oh thank God! STEVE!” she cheered—right as her foot slipped off the gas.

The car lurched backward.

You and Eddie went flying.

Straight into the biggest, deepest, grossest puddle of mud on the whole damn road.

Steve’s heart stopped.

He didn’t think. He leaped from his car, sprinting towards you without a single regard for his white linen pants.

You were lost in a fit of hysterical laughter. Or, rather, cackle, as you propped yourself up on your elbows in the muck.

Steve waded in without hesitation, his thighs instantly soaked, reaching for you. “Jesus Christ — come on, New York, give me your hand.”

You grinned up at him mischievously, and before he could do anything else, you launched yourself into his arms.

He caught you on instinct, arms wrapping around your waist as you completely ruined the last clean part of his clothes.

“Can’t believe you came,” you laughed into his shoulder. “I knew you would.”

Steve barely registered the fact that you were getting mud everywhere — your arms locked around his neck, your body warm against his, the scent of damp earth and your lingering perfume filling his senses.

“Yeah,” he murmured, holding you just a second too long before finally setting her back on her feet. “Course I did.”

A few feet away, Eddie struggled to his feet, arms outstretched in exasperation. “Oh yeah, don’t worry about me, guys. I just love being ignored while I drown in filth.”

Robin, still in the car, had her forehead against the steering wheel, laughing so hard the roof of the thing was shaking.

Steve pulled back, brushing a stray, mud-caked strand of hair from your cheek. “You okay, sweetheart?”

You looked up at him teasingly, lips quirking up. “Sweetheart, huh?”

Steve’s stomach flipped.

Eddie let out an exaggerated gag. “Oh my god, I’m the one covered in mud, but that was somehow filthier.”

Steve had the decency to lower his eyes, biting back a smile as he let his hand drop.

Robin threw the door of the Eddie’s car open, finally catching her breath. “Okay, people — let’s get this stupid car out so we can go warm up before Steve actually cries about his ruined Ralph Lauren outfit!”

—

It took a combination of teamwork, Steve’s BMW, and a lot of swearing, but you eventually got Eddie’s car unstuck and back on the road.

By the time you reached the cabin, the mud had dried to an uncomfortable crust on your skin.

You unloaded Eddie’s car and scattered inside, everyone getting cleaned up and settling in.

Steve took the fastest shower of his life, scrubbing away every last trace of white linen Steve Harrington until all that was left was damp hair, Eddie’s spare band tee, and a pair of worn-out jeans.

When he stepped back into the room, he spotted you crouched over your backpack, searching for something.

The warm glow of the bedside lamp cast soft shadows across your skin, catching in the loose tendrils of your still-drying hair.

Steve halted. You glanced up, pausing when you saw him.

For a second, neither of you said anything.

Your gaze flicked over his borrowed shirt, his wet hair, the way his jeans hung low on his hips.

Then you met his eyes.

Something shifted in the air. The kind of shift that was slow, deliberate. Like the exact moment before a fire starts.

Steve’s throat went desert-dry.

You slowly got up to your feet to level with him, your lips parting slightly like you wanted to say something —

When the door slammed open with a bang.

“Harrington!”

Steve honest-to-god jumped.

Eddie leaned against the doorframe, completely oblivious. “Need an extra pair of hands for the wood pile before we all freeze to death.”

Steve exhaled through his nose. “Yeah. Sure.”

Eddie nodded, then flicked his gaze between the two of you.

His smirk couldn’t get more obnoxious.

You rolled your eyes at his antics, and went back to your bag - like nothing happened.

Steve followed Eddie out, hands in his pockets, trying to ignore the way his pulse pounded in his throat.

Whatever that was - it could have been a wildfire. Even without the goddamn wood.

---

The cabin kitchen smelled amazing—garlic, tomato, and cheesy lasagna bubbling away in the oven. But the state of the place? An absolute disaster.

Robin had sauce on her cheek. Your sleeves were covered in ricotta. There was a suspicious amount of flour on the counter that neither of you had actually used.

You pointed at Robin with a wooden spoon. “I don’t even wanna ask how you got cheese in your hair.”

Robin swiped at it half-heartedly. “Cooking is an art, alright?”

You snorted, shaking your head as you went back to layering noodles. You and Robin moved easily around each other, the kind of teamwork that came from months of rooming together and effortless friendship.

And then, Robin — who had clearly been waiting for the perfect moment — casually ventured, “Sooo… what do you think of Steve?”

You didn’t pause. Didn’t look up. Didn’t even blink.

But you smiled.

Robin grinned. “Oh, now that’s a look worth a thousand words.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t deny it. “He’s just…” You let out a small laugh, biting on your bottom lip. “I don’t know. I’ve never met anyone like him before.”

Robin made a suggestive noise. “Yeah, no kidding. Who else has a hair routine longer than my entire shower?”

“Nothing wrong with good hair”, you defended. “Yeah, well,” Robin scrunched her nose. “He also wears loafers without socks, so. Trade-offs.” You nudged her with your hip, hard. “He’s—” you bit on the inside of your cheek, searching for the right words. “He’s good. In a real way. Not in a look at me, I’m a nice guy kinda way. Just good. Kind.”

Robin leaned against the counter, smirking. “Yeah, he’s a big ol’ softie. Tries to act all cool, but we all know he’d risk it all for a bunch of kids who tease him mercilessly.”

You laughed, eyes crinkling. “Yeah, I noticed that.”

Robin gave you a stare-down. “You like him.”

You didn’t argue. “I really wanna get to know him better.”

Buckley grinned. “You should,” and then added, after a beat with half-mock seriousness: “Just… y’know. If you hurt him, I will have to kill you.”

You barked out a laugh. “That’s fair. I like that you’d defend him like that”, you confessed, approval dripping from your voice.

Robin gave a serious nod. “I will commit crimes, New York.”

You laughed as you opened up the oven, checking on lasagna…

…Neither of you noticed Steve in the doorway - standing there with a big, stupid grin on his face.

He’d just come in from outside, shaking the cold from his hands, when he caught the tail end of the conversation. He didn’t mean to eavesdrop. But man, oh man, was he happy that he did.

He ducked out before you could see him, his cheeks burning, his chest full, the “I really wanna get to know him better” bottled up in his mind to get back to in months to come, like a hidden treasure only he knew about.

---

Dinner was warm. Easy.

The four of you ate too much lasagna. Robin somehow got more cheese in her hair. Eddie cheated at board games - and didn’t even bother to hide it.

Laughter filled the cabin as you went over the mud incident from earlier.

You turned to Steve, propping your chin on your hand. “Your folks pissed you left?”

Steve, still in Eddie’s borrowed band tee, rolled the dice and shrugged. “They probably didn’t even notice.”

You scrunched your nose in disapproval. “Their loss, our gain.”

Steve stared at you for a second too long, something tight and aching curled in his chest.

Before he could even process your words and the meaning behind them, you casually tossed a game piece at Eddie catching him red-handed as he tried to cheat - yet again. Steve vaguely registered Munson yelling something about “disrespect” and “absolute betrayal.” It didn’t matter. The more time Steve spent getting to know you, the less everything else mattered. And he wasn’t sure how he felt about that yet.

---

Eventually, things slowed.

Steve found himself sitting on the floor by the fireplace - next to you.

The flames flickered, warm light casting soft shadows as you talked, voices hushed.

Like a moth drawn to a flame, Steve couldn’t help but wanted to learn everything about you. Especially the little things. Like how you always needed to drink something before bed. How you grew up listening to your dad’s old rock records. How you once broke your arm jumping from a tree.

He took in every single detail like he was trying to memorize you - like a favorite song. An all-time classic.

“Let me get this straight. You jumped out of a tree because a boy dared you to?” Steve asked, eyebrows raised.

You grinned. “Yeah. Not my proudest moment”.

Steve huffed a laugh. “Please tell me you at least got to rub it in his face.”

“Oh, no.” You laughed too, leaning back against the couch. “He screamed. Thought I died. I was too busy crying.”

Steve shook his head in half awe, half disbelief.

“You’re wild.”

You smirked. “You like it.”

Steve’s heart skipped - because you weren’t wrong. You weren't wrong at all.

He didn’t know what to do with the feeling swelling in his chest. It felt dangerous - like falling from the edge of a cliff. It scared him, but not enough to make him want to stop.

At the kitchen counter, Robin and Eddie watched. Buckley sipped from her drink. “He’s so gone.”

Munson grinned. “Told ya.”

Completely oblivious to them watching, you stretched, covering your mouth as you yawned. You got to your feet, stretching your arms over your head, and Steve swallowed hard, noticing your shirt riding up just a little.

“Alright, I’m calling it,” you finally said, voice warm and sleepy. “I’m crashing.”

You turned to Steve, eyes soft.

“Night, Steve.”

Steve barely managed to get out, “Night,” before you disappeared down the hall.

Oh, he was so screwed.

Seven.

Steve wasn’t avoiding you - not really.

At least, that’s what he kept telling himself.

His schedule had just been busy. Running errands for his dad. Taking care of bullshit he didn’t actually care about.

But the truth? The truth was that he’d gotten used to you - to the way you smirked at him when you knew you were getting under his skin. To the way you laughed, loud and carefree, with Eddie and Robin. To the way you just… fit - like you’d always been there.

And that scared the ever-loving shit out of him.

So he stopped answering every message in your group chat. He stopped saying yes when Robin, Eddie and you planned something new.

He was running away - and straight-up hiding at a coffee shop this morning pretending to ignore his phone going off every 5 seconds.

Goddamn, you guys were relentless!

The Group Chat - The Chaos Crew

ROBIN: Steve.

ROBIN: Steven.

ROBIN: Stevie Boy.

EDDIE: Holy shit, Robin, let the man breathe.

ROBIN: He doesn’t deserve to breathe. He’s been ignoring us.

YOU: He probably died in a tragic hairspray accident.

EDDIE: A fallen soldier.

ROBIN: A hero.

YOU: Rest in peace, big guy.

STEVE: Jesus Christ, I’M BUSY.

EDDIE: Oh wow, he lives.

ROBIN: It’s a miracle!!

YOU: Huh, I was just about to hold a séance.

STEVE: I hate all of you.

ROBIN: Lies. You love us.

EDDIE: And yet, he keeps bailing on everything.

ROBIN: Right? The audacity.

YOU: I was kinda hoping he wasn’t all talk, but…

STEVE: …

STEVE: What the hell is that supposed to mean?

YOU: No big deal, Harrington. Just… y’know. Disappointing.

EDDIE: Ohhh, she’s calling you out, Harrington.

ROBIN: SHE’S CALLING YOU OUT, HARRINGTON.

STEVE: I hate all of you.

EDDIE: You said that already.

ROBIN: So, does that mean you’re coming to movie night?

STEVE: No.

ROBIN: YOU ACTUAL LOSER.

EDDIE: Disgraceful.

YOU: You’re breaking my heart, Steve.

STEVE: …

STEVE: We only just met, New York, come on!

YOU: And yet, here I am. Heartbroken.

EDDIE: Oof.

ROBIN: Cold.

YOU: This is on you, Harrington.

Steve groaned, rubbing his face.

He didn’t like the way his stomach twisted at your words. Even though you were obviously joking - trying to get a rise out of him, as usual.

He didn’t like the way his fingers hovered over his phone longer than necessary before finally setting it down.

He missed the four of you. Better yet, he missed you - just you, and that was the problem.

Burying his face in his hands, he ran his aching fingers through his hair for the thousandth time, when he heard a familiar voice calling for him.

He looked up to see Nancy, already halfway to his table with a small smile. He straightened.

“Hey, Nance.”

Wheeler hesitated, giving him a once over. Latching on to the strap of her bag, he saw it on her face as she made up her mind. Nancy nodded slowly to the chair across from him. “Mind if I sit?”

He shook his head, leaning back into the chair. “Not at all.”

Nancy slid into the chair opposite of him, wrapping her hands around her coffee cup.

She tilted her head at him. “You look… pensive.”

Steve huffed a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, well. That’s one word for it.”

Nancy smiled knowingly into her cup.

For a moment, neither of them spoke, years of history hovering silently over the table. Years of being tangled up in each other’s lives; of being young and dumb and thinking forever was easy.

Nancy sipped her coffee.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” she mentioned matter-of-factly.

Steve snorted. “I wouldn’t say that.”

She arched a brow at him.

Steve sighed, giving her a surrendering look. “Okay, maybe a little.”

Nancy smirked. “Figured.”

Another pause made up of silence that wasn’t empty. It was filled with bittersweet memories, with the ghosts of past arguments and stolen kisses, with the weight of what was and what will never be again.

Steve tapped his fingers against his cup, thoughtful.

“Did we ever stand a chance?”

Nancy blinked. The question didn’t surprise her. Steve actually asking it did.

She let out a slow breath, watching him carefully.

“Maybe,” she shrugged. “At a different time. If we’d been different people back then.”

Steve nodded, staring at the table. “Yeah.”

“But we weren’t,” she said gently, wishing for him to look at her. “And I don’t think we were ever supposed to be.”

Steve exhaled a laugh, shaking his head. “I think I knew that, too. Even when I didn’t want to.”

It felt good to say that out loud.

Nancy smiled, soft. “I don’t regret us, though.”

Steve finally looked at her then, his fingertips tapping softly against his cup. “Me neither.”

After a beat, Nancy bit her bottom lip - she looked like she was weighting what she planned to say next.

“I do regret not letting myself feel things fully, though. When I had the chance.”

Steve frowned slightly, watching her closely. “What do you mean?”

Nancy stirred her coffee, thoughtful. “I feel like I spent a lot of time afraid - of making the wrong choice, or - of saying the wrong thing. Of getting it all wrong.” She waved her hand in the air. “I was so focused on the thing between us potentially breaking me, that I didn’t realize I was hurting you in the process”.

Nancy met Steve’s eyes, while he listened. “If I could do it again, I’d let myself be all in. And maybe, you know, embrace it, instead of writing an elegy for the relationship I didn’t even give a proper chance to. ”

Something in Steve’s chest tightened - because it all hit pretty close to home. He knew exactly what Nancy was talking about - hell, he knew all along why he’d been keeping his distance from you.

Because this thing — whatever it was — was starting to feel big, starting to feel real.

And what if it didn’t last? What if it all fell apart?

That would hurt like a fucking bitch.

Nancy smirked, seeing it all play out on his face. “You’re falling for someone, aren’t you?”

Steve opened his mouth —

Then closed it.

Nancy laughed. “Oh my God, you totally are.”

Steve groaned, leaning back. “Jesus, Wheeler. Can’t a guy just have an existential crisis in peace?”

She grinned in response, but her voice was gentle when she said:

“Don’t run from it, Steve. Don’t ruin it before you give it a chance.”

Steve exhaled, shaking his head. “Easier said than done.”

Nancy pressed her lips together, swirling now cold coffee in the cup. “Yeah, well. I think you’ll regret it if you don’t.”

Steve gave her a long, appraising look. Maybe in some other life, things would have been different between them. But in this one? Nancy Wheeler was just his friend.

And right now, she was giving him the kind of advice that only a good friend would.

Steve offered her a sincere smile. “Thanks, Nance.”

Nancy nodded, softly. “Anytime, Harrington.”

Sliding from the booth, Steve made his way to the counter and pulled out his wallet to pay for their coffees. While waiting for change, he fished out his phone from the front pocket of his jacket and found your name in his contacts.

Before he could press “Call”, his phone buzzed in his hand, a message popping up on the top of the screen.

This wasn’t a part of a group chat, you name winking at him next to a simple text.

Hey stranger. Up for a drink tonight?

Steve stared at it. Felt the words settle in his chest.

He ran a hand over his face, exhaling slowly. Hey, stranger. Like it was nothing. Like the days of silence between you had been a pause, not an ending. Like you haven’t been the last thing on his mind every damn night.

His thumb hovered over the screen. His chest swelled with hope.

Steve swallowed hard, then typed:

��Time and place?”

And hit send before he could talk himself out of it - precisely why, just seconds ago, he had wanted to call.

Eight.

Steve wasn’t nervous.

Or at least, that’s what he kept telling himself.

It was stupid to be nervous. You and him had spent so much time together by now - it felt like you’d known each other for ages. He knew how you took your coffee, the exact way your mouth curled when you were about to say something cutting but hilarious, how you tucked your hair behind your ear when you were listening to someone talk. He knew you.

But tonight felt different.

It was the first time you’d be hanging out alone, just the two of you, without Robin or Eddie and the constant buffer of two loud, teasing friends. Steve wasn’t sure if Robin knew, wasn’t sure if she and Eddie were somewhere right now making bets on how this would play out.

He didn’t know why it felt like his whole world was shifting, but it did.

So he sat at the bar, still in his white linen shirt and tailored slacks from an excruciatingly dull day at the club with his father’s associates, feeling wildly out of place. He stirred the ice in his glass of water, staring at the condensation as he forced himself not to check his watch.

(He did not trust himself to drink tonight.)

The door to the bar swung open, letting in a burst of summer air, and his stomach flipped before he even looked up. He knew it was you. He felt it before he saw you, like a change in the atmosphere, an invisible pull tightening in his chest.

And then — there you were.

Steve forgot how to function as a human being.

You weren’t trying to turn heads, but you did.

The dress was simple. Black, thin straps, something that barely brushed against the tops of your knees. But it clung in all the right places, shifted around your thighs as you moved, your bare shoulders illuminated by the dim bar lighting.

You were like a shot of whiskey in a crystal glass. Smooth. Lethal.

And Steve was dying of thirst.

Your eyes found his - and you just smiled like you knew exactly what was happening in his brain.

It wasn’t fair.

Steve straightened instinctively, hands pressing against his thighs as if that would stop them from fidgeting. He swallowed hard, watching you weave through the crowd. Your perfume - cashmere, jasmin, maybe apricot? - wafted around as you placed a hand on his shoulder, and pressed a quick, soft kiss to his cheek before sliding into the seat next to him.

Steve could still feel the warmth of it, searing into his skin.

“Hey, stranger,” you greeted, flagging down the bartender. “You’re early.” Your voice was light, teasing, but your eyes flickered over him, curious.

“Yeah,” he said, then cleared his throat. “Didn’t wanna keep you waiting.”

Your lips twitched, amused, but there was something else there too—something Steve couldn’t quite name yet.

“Huh. I thought maybe you’d skipped town.”

“I’ve been busy,” he said, and it was pathetic how quickly he could hear the lie in his own voice.

You hummed, amused. But decided to still give him a chance - to further embarrass himself. “Busy?” Steve shifted in his seat, forcing himself to meet your gaze. “Yeah. Y’know. Family stuff. Work”. He sucked on his water, only to stop himself from talking.

“Right”, you nodded. “Family. Work. The two things that keep people from answering texts.”

He winced. There it was.

“I didn’t mean to—” He exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his hair. “I wasn’t ignoring you.”

You took a slow sip of your drink, watching him over the rim. Then, finally: “Okay.”

That was it. No argument. No pressing for an explanation. Just that single, unreadable word.

And somehow, that was worse.

Steve leaned forward, resting his arms on the bar. “I swear I wasn't. I just… my parents have been around more lately. Making me sit through business dinners and all that bullshit. You know how it is.”

Steve remembered your offhand comments about your dad, about growing up with people who only cared about wealth and status. It was one of the first things you’d connected over, how empty it could all feel.

You gave a slow nod, swirling the drink in your hand - because you did know.

Feeling encouraged, Steve cleared his throat and then added: “And I needed to clear my head.”

Your expression didn’t change, but you set your glass down a little too carefully. “And? Is it clear now?”

He swallowed hard. He could lie again, keep pretending this was just another casual night out, but the truth was sitting in his throat, thick and insistent.

“No,” he admitted. “Not even close.”

Your fingers curled around your glass, but you didn’t look away. “So why did you come?”

Steve let out a quiet laugh, mostly at himself. “Because I’m an idiot.”

That made you smile, but it wasn’t the easy, teasing one he was used to. It was softer, something a little more careful.

“And I owe you an apology,” he finally said, his eyes sincere and bright. “I’m sorry I’ve been pulling back. The truth is - I -” he bit down on his lip. “I’ve been trying to put some distance between us, because the way I feel about you scares me, and I don’t know how to best deal with this, I - I just don’t know”.

His voice was raw and uncertain - and in that moment, under the dim lights of the posh, expensive bar - Steve Harrington was the most goddamn authentic, beautiful thing, illuminating the room. “Steve,” you said, soft but calling for attention. Calm but determined. You set your drink down.

His eyes flicked up, meeting yours, and for the first time tonight, he didn’t try to look away.

“I missed you,” you continued, voice steady. “So I don’t want distance. I don’t want you to run from this. I don’t want to play games, Harrington.”

His throat bobbed, something shifting behind his eyes.

“What I do want,” you said, voice dipping just slightly, “is to kiss you.”

Steve’s brain short-circuited. For a second, he just stared, like he was trying to make sure he wasn’t imagining this.

“But I won’t,” you added. “Not unless you truly want it too.”

Steve sucked in a breath, sharp and uneven.

His pulse was a drum against his ribs, hammering in time with the words you’d just said. What I do want is to kiss you.

His mind scrambled for something — anything — coherent to say, but nothing came out. Because fuck, he wanted that too. Wanted it so badly it almost knocked him flat.

He could still feel the weight of your gaze, steady and patient, giving him space, letting him decide. And that was what did him in. Not the way you looked at him like he was something worth waiting for, not the way your lips had wrapped around those words like a promise — but the fact that you gave him the choice - to either go all in, or not at all.

He exhaled shakily, a slow, almost disbelieving smile curling at the edges of his mouth. “You really don’t like to make things easy, huh?”

Your lips twitched, amused. “What’s the fun in that?”

Steve didn’t answer. He reached for you, slow but certain, his fingers grazing the warm skin of your arm as he pulled you in.

You just watched him, eyes dark and searching, your lips parted slightly as if waiting, daring him to make the next move.

And he did.

His hands came up, cupping your face gently, like you were something precious, something he had no business touching but couldn’t resist. His thumbs traced the edges of your jaw, his fingers slipping into your hair, feeling the silk of it against his knuckles.

You exhaled, and he felt it - your breath, warm and steady against his mouth.

The moment your lips met, the world shrank.

Everything - the noise of the bar, the clinking of glasses, the murmur of conversation, the weight of all the time you had wasted - fell away.

Steve’s touch was reverent, like he was memorizing the feel of you beneath his palms, like he was afraid you might slip through his fingers if he wasn’t careful.

But you weren’t going anywhere.

You leaned in, pressing closer, and Steve swore he felt the earth tilt beneath him. His lips moved against yours, slow at first — hesitant, savoring, like he was trying to make up for every second he had spent denying himself this.

Then you sighed into his mouth, and something inside him snapped.

His hands tightened against your cheeks, pulling you in deeper - and you let him. Met him, matched him. The kiss deepened, turned desperate - finally, finally, finally - like a dam breaking, like something inevitable, something that had been building for longer than either of you wanted to admit. ---

Group Chat – The Chaos Crew

EDDIE: [a blurred photo of you and Steve walking out of the bar, hand in hand.]

EDDIE: Pay up, Buckley.

ROBIN: WHAT IN THE ACTUAL HELL??

ROBIN: I WAS OFFLINE FOR TWO HOURS. TWO. HOURS!!

STEVE: Picture’s blurry, man. But pretty straightforward.

YOU: But, damn, we look good.

ROBIN: OH SO YOU’RE A TEAM NOW??

ROBIN: JUST DROPPING BOMBS CASUALLY??

EDDIE: Lmao she’s spiraling.

ROBIN: I AM NOT SPIRALING.

STEVE: Robin. Breathe.