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robinskey · 5 years ago

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Coworkers (pt 3) (Steve Harrington x Reader)

Part One//Part Two

A/N: Thank you guys for being so patient while waiting for this update! I’ve really enjoyed this series and all the positive feedback I’ve received from it. Thanks to the anon who sent in the original request. Keep sending them in, guys-the more detailed, the better, but all requests are welcome! :)

Warnings: Language, alcohol mention/hangover

The next morning, Steve woke up with an aching neck and a pulsing headache. He squinted in the bright light filtering in through the windows. (Even though you’d tried to pull the blinds shut as tightly as possible, you still hadn’t managed to submerge the room into complete darkness. And in Steve’s condition, even a single ray of sun burned his irises like the heat from a thousand fires.)

Steve cupped one hand over his brow as a makeshift visor. Narrowing his eyes slightly, Steve managed to make out his surroundings. A crate-sized television with bunny-ear antennae sat on the stand across from the slightly-beat-up couch on which he was laying. A fluffy pillow-no, a fluffy dog-was curled up on a tattered armchair to his left. On the coffee table in front of him, a half-full glass of clear liquid stood next to two small blue pills and a sticky note with the words “Steve-take these” hastily scribbled on it. Steve made a promise to himself never to do this again before popping the mysterious pills in his mouth. He washed them down with a sip of water. That sip quickly devolved into gulping down the entire glass. Suddenly parched, Steve grabbed the empty cup and took off in search of a faucet.

As he wandered toward the kitchen, a sweet aroma drifted up to his nostrils. Clad in plaid pajama pants and a college sweatshirt, you stood at the stove. You were humming a faint, vaguely recognizable melody as you flipped a sizzling pancake over in the frying pan. Once it turned golden brown, you added it to the already-towering stack on the counter. After dividing the stack equally between two plates, you grabbed one, along with a bottle of maple syrup from the cabinet. Then, you spun on your heel, and your eyes fell upon the disheveled boy lurking in the doorway.

“Hi.”

“Hi, yourself,” you said with an almost-inauthentically-cheerful tone. “You hungry?”

“I-uh-sure,” Steve stammered.

You gestured towards at the kitchen island, and Steve hopped up onto the barstool. He caught the plate, fork, and maple syrup bottle you slid across the counter, then watched you walk over to the fridge. You shuffled around objects on the shelves as Steve racked his brain for a conversation starter-or, at the very least, any recollection of what had happened last night. The last thing he could remember was one of his idiotic former classmates daring him to challenge his old “keg king” record and him being idiotic enough to try.

“Robin called,” you said, plopping a carton of orange juice on the counter. You poured two glasses and handed one to Steve. He greedily gulped it down. “She thought you might have wandered over here after the party. I asked her how you knew where I lived-if you’d been stalking me or something.”

Steve nearly spit out his drink. Fortunately, you didn’t notice; you were rifling in the fridge again. By the time you turned around, cradling a container of butter, he’d managed to get his panic under control. He gulped down the lump in his throat.

“What did Robin say?”

“Nothing. She just laughed.” Having grabbed your plate, you settled into the seat next to Steve. Between bites of fluffy pancake, you asked, “So, Harrington, is it true? Are you stalking me?”

Steve’s eyes widened to the size of the frying pan. Fortunately, though, Steve had been too flustered to try to eat or drink, so he didn’t choke this time. Instead, he offered a coy smile that he hoped would come off as kind rather than creepy.

“Nothing like that,” he said. “I was talking to Brenda Hapsburg, and she mentioned that your house was just a couple blocks away.”

“And you just decided to…what? Drunkenly stumble through my neighbors’ yards in the middle of the night just to pay me a visit?”

“I guess.” Steve shrugged. He sawed at his stack of pancakes with a butter knife, more to avoid your hawk-like stare than anything else. “I don’t even remember leaving the party last night, but I’m here, so I guess I did.”

“So you don’t remember anything you said, either?” you asked, quirking an eyebrow quizzically.

“No.” He glanced over at you out of the corner of his eye. “Should I?”

“Um-no. Of course not.”

You grabbed your plate off the counter and slid into the spot next to Steve at the counter. Your house guest watched as you stabbed your fork into the pancake. You twisted it around absentmindedly as you spoke, carving out a hole in the center.

“It doesn’t matter, anyway, because you were drunk and stupid and had no idea what you were saying.” You raised your head, a tight smile plastered across your lips. “Never mind. It’s nothing. Hand me the maple syrup, will you?”

Your fingers grazed Steve’s as he passed the bottle, and the electricity from the ever-so-brief contact sparked his suspicions back to life like Frankenstein's monster.

“It doesn’t sound like nothing.” Steve laid his fork down on his plate and turned towards you. His chocolate eyes glimmered with guilt. “Look, I’m sorry about last night-whatever I did. Whenever I’m drunk, I’m usually pretty-”

“-flirty?” you asked, quirking an eyebrow.

“Well, I was going to say ‘pretty much an asshole,’ but…” Realization settled over Steve’s features, contorting them into a look of concern. “Wait, flirty? Did I hit on you last night or something?”

“Yeah, you did, actually. Several times,” you said, then ticked off the instances in which this had rung true on your fingers. “You called me cute, asked if I was your girlfriend-and at one point, I’m pretty sure you were trying to kiss me.”

Steve’s face didn’t just fall; it collapsed. His features contorted into a deep frown. “Shit. God, that’s embarrassing. I didn’t mean to make things awkward-”

“It’s fine,” you interrupted, forcing yet another fake grin. “I know you're not actually interested in me, Harrington.”

He probably should have just left it at that. However, Steve being Steve, he had to press the matter. Besides, Steve couldn’t think of anything else to say, and he didn’t think he could survive another stint of awkward silence, so he wondered aloud, “And why wouldn’t I be interested in you?”

“Well,” you huffed, leaning your head on one of your hands, “for one thing, I’m pretty damn sure I’m not exactly your type.”

“Not my...type?” Steve’s eyebrows knitted together on his forehead like a dark caterpillar. “What, you think I’m not looking for someone smart, beautiful, funny? Someone who puts up with my drunk bullshit, lets me crash on their couch, makes me a bomb-ass hangover breakfast? Why the hell wouldn’t I be interested in someone like that?”

Color rose to Steve’s cheeks as he recognized the implication of his last sentence. He ran a hand through his wild hair in an attempt at self-soothing. While the throbbing in his head had subsided, a furious pounding in his chest had replaced it. Steve was almost certain you could hear his heart beating against his sternum; after all, your voice was barely audible to him over the thudding soundtrack of his internal organs. Luckily, Steve could read your lips-the part of the face to which he’d turned his full attention, anyway.

“What are you trying to tell me, Steve?” Your unblinking eyes flicked over his features in a search for clues to uncover the mystery that was Steve Harrington. He leaned in ever-so-slightly, tilting his head toward yours.

“Everything I said last night,” he started, “I meant. I’ve liked you for a really long time, Y/N. I just haven’t had the courage to tell you. But apparently, Drunk Steve did.”

You chuckled softly. Steve’s attention, which had momentarily flicked up to meet your gaze, returned to your mouth. You mimicked him. His lips looked smooth and shiny and plump, perfectly irresistible.

And then, suddenly, you were leaning forward, supporting yourself with a hand on this thigh. One of his hands gravitated toward your waist, tickling your side slightly as his fingers gently dug into your skin. Steve’s face was so close that you could count the faint freckles on his cheeks.

And yet, somehow, he managed to get even closer. You couldn’t see anything at all, because your eyelids had fluttered shut, but your other senses kicked into hyperdrive. His lips felt like velvet against yours, even softer than you could have imagined. He tasted even sweeter than the syrup left behind on his lips.

At least, that last part was true momentarily, before a putrid aftertaste assaulted your tastebuds. You instinctively jerked away, your face scrunched up into a disgusted expression. Steve gazed at you with his lost puppy-dog eyes that could shatter an ice-cold heart into a million pieces. He pursed his lips.

“Look, Y/N, I know I haven’t had much practice lately, but I didn’t know I was that bad of a kisser.”

“No, it’s not that, Steve. It’s your breath. Surprisingly, morning breath does not mix well with a night of alcohol consumption,” you laughed. Steve tried to maintain his pout, but he couldn’t help cracking a smile. You slid your hand off his leg to reach for his palm. “Come on, dork. I think there’s a spare toothbrush in my bathroom somewhere.”

You intertwined your dainty digits with his larger-than-life fingers and tugged him along. He grinned dopily as he followed after you. His stupid smirk only widened when you promised, after taking care of that terrible breath, more kissing practice was the next thing on the agenda. ;)

Taglists:

General: @novaddictx @anabundanceoffandoms @rexorangecouny @morganvanilla@anolddayslover

Steve: @broadwayandnetflix @explode-a-pult @whormotional @loulouloueh@peterhollandd @songforhema

Stranger Things: @readinthegarden12 @lacunaclouds

Coworkers: @l0ve-0f-my-life @nicole13letson @smileygoluckey

If you want to be added to the tag list for a specific character/my writing in general, leave a reply or send me a message! Thanks again for reading. <3

If you want to check out more of my writing, here’s my masterlist. :)

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #stranger things #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington angst #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #stranger things x y/n #tw: alcohol #tw: alchohol mention #parker-potter writes

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