#anyway i stress ate the popcorner chips in last five minutes IT WAS SO STRESSFUL

[fazcinatingblog]

I was saying yesterday that Brit Bonnici was probably the captain because the actual captain is injured, and so he would point out the suns player with the helmet and be like "so that's the suns captain?"

[thephantomofthe-internet]

Not Your Type 2

Steve Harrington x Reader

Read the first part HERE

Word Count: 5,651

Warnings: Swearing

Authors note: You want it, I found a way to do it! Sorry if I came off mean at first about doing a sequel, comments that are purely asking for sequels to fics are really disheartening because I get all excited about a comment and then it just feels like a demand for more with nothing else. But I found a thing I like so here ya are! Thanks to everyone who read part 1, I hope you like part 2 too!!!

Tag List: @moonstruckhargrove @hotstuffhargrove @carolimedanvers @thechickvic @alex--awesome--22 @lilmissperfectlyimperfect @so-not-hotmess @hipsmcgee @agentsinstorybrooke @sunflowercandie @kaliforniacoastalteens @songforhema @spidey-pal

It took him a full twenty-four hours to call. You suffered through the whole sleepover at Robin’s, filled with ‘I told you so’s’ and holding back her hair when she puked from a bad combination of sour belts and malt whiskey. She nearly puked on the lavender trumpet sleeves you’d lovingly built for Juliet herself and you nearly killed her.  You’d never bolted out of her house faster and back to your own, only a block away, to check your messages.

Unfortunately, there were none to check. You were insanely disappointed. But you held out hope, you had nowhere to be with the demon child’s parents taking him to the zoo for the day. You spent half the day cooped up in the living room on your couch, switching positions every thirty minutes and watching everything your tiny selection of TV channels, watching soap operas and the news and b movies from the fifties and reruns. You ate sparingly, flipped through every magazine on your coffee table, you found a great dress to recreate once you were done the Juliet dress, you did your makeup and then took it off-anything to fill the time.

And then, at five o’clock on the dot, he called.

Every phone call that had come through all day, you waited at least two rings on before answering. Both your parents worked full time, so you were free all day to do nothing. But with your mother home since four, you were risking her answering, so you pounced on the phone. You were glad that the first call the house had gotten was him, it meant that you could finally ignore the phone.

“Hello?”

“Hey, is this Y/N?” Steve asked. He sounded so nervous and awkward; he probably expected to get an older sibling or parent. He was trying so hard to sound polite. It was a little bit adorable. Just a little.

“Hey, Steve, what’s up?” you asked with a chuckle. The corded phone in the living room only reached so far, so you pulled the recliner’s matching stool to you with your foot and sat down again, resting your elbows on your knees and your head in your hands.

“Hey! Nothing much, how was Robin’s place?” Across town, Steve was fully laid down in bed, clutched his own phone to his ear. It had taken him all day to buck up the courage to make the call-he didn’t want to get your mom or some sibling he hadn’t heard about yet by mistake, that would be embarrassing and weird. He’d slowly given up on trying to be popular, but part of him wanted to live up to others expectations of him.

“About as fun as always. I half-watched Carrie for the fourteenth time and held back her hair after she drank too much and threw up. Party of the century...” you replied with an awkward laugh. You felt weird about making fun of Robin to Steve, but he laughed all the same and you didn’t want to seem totally lame and boring. In actuality, the night was boring and uneventful. You threw handfuls of popcorn at Robin’s younger brother Kyle when he tried to bust in all creepy. You hemmed a dress. You ate dinner with Robin’s mom. Nothing insanely eventful. Even the puking was fairly normal; Robin couldn’t hold her whisky despite her love for the stuff.

“No pillow fights and practising kissing?” Steve asked. He felt gross about it, especially knowing Robin, but he did it anyway. Maybe you’d laugh. Or say something snarky and cool.

You giggled, rolling your eyes “No, not really?” you replied, your tone turning up into a question. You couldn’t tell if he was serious. You hoped it wasn’t.

“No? Oh well...you’ll have to have one with me next time. Way more fun.” Steve propped his head up on his race car themed pillow.

“I generally like to have a guy take me out on a date before I start planning sleepovers with them...” you twisted the coiled cord around your finger, looking down the hall to ensure that your mother wasn’t listening from the kitchen, or worse on the other line getting the full conversation. Luckily, she had her ABBA cassette on blast as she cooked in the kitchen, mouthing the words to dancing queen into her slotted spoon.

“Well, then I’ll have to take you out then, what’re you doing tonight?” Steve asked, checking the time. It was only five fifteen, he had all night to see you.

“Nothing much, where’re you taking me?” you asked. You’d need at least an hour, to wash your hair and change your clothes. And that was just to look less sweaty and awful, to be at the level you’d like to be for a date you’d need at least another hour.

“How about I pick you up at eight and I take you to this diner I know and we get some food. And then we can drive around for a bit, nothing crazy.”  Steve offered out, trying to not sound meek and weird. He was not exactly proud of the half-assed plan, but it would work for now.

“I think I can make that work...I’ll see you at eight at 1245 Orchid Lane, alright?” you said, grinning giddily.  Steve bid his goodbyes and you hung up, rushing upstairs to take a shower. You scrubbed your hair rigorously, filling your private bathroom with the scent of artificial roses. You wanted the scent to linger in your hair as long as possible, even though you were going to put perfume over top. You knew that perfume never lasted as long as a man’s cologne, so you wanted to make sure you still smelt good. You scrubbed your body in strawberry body wash and scrubbed your face in apricot face scrub. You turned off the water fast and jumped out of the shower, pulling on a massive ‘Hawkins High’ tee shirt.

“Y/N! Robin’s here!” your mother called from downstairs, clearly annoyed by your not telling her that someone was coming over for dinner.

“Send her up!” you replied, pulling your baby pink hairdryer from the lowest drawer of your vanity and plugging it in, blasting your hair with hot air and using a rounded brush to build some waves in your hair.

“Harrington called.” Robin mused with a smirk as she walked into your room, plopping herself on your twin bed.

“He called. He’s taking me out. You got one right, bask in the glow or whatever.” You huffed, talking over the roar of the hairdryer.

“And we’re doing our hair...interesting...” Robin replied, examining her short nails and their chipped black paint.

You turned to her with a scoff   “I do my hair for every date. Unless I have no time, I always try to bring a bit of glamour to the equation.” Robin chuckled at that, reaching for the Seventeen magazine on your nightstand. “Well, if they’re going to take me out, they should get a bit of a show, shouldn’t they?”

“Whatever you say...” Robin said “But I’m sure Steve isn’t putting in this much effort.”

Robin was wrong. The second he got off the phone, he rushed to start his own process. He had just washed his hair the day before, but the Steve Harrington hair process took a bit of effort and time. And his hair needed to be damp. So he rushed to get it wet under the bathroom sink, running water into his palms and then his fingers through his hair. He repeated the motion over and over again, until he deemed his hair wet enough. Then went in the Farrah Fawcett spray and the fluffing and preening until it was the right height and shape.  He thought about calling Robin for help.  He felt completely out of his depths with you: you were still an enigma to him, confusing and strange and hard to discern. One moment you were bitchy and snarky and the next you were funny and supportive. He couldn’t gauge where he sat with you. Sure, you’d agreed to this date with him, you even seemed excited, but that didn’t mean that he was in the clear with you. You could turn on him again. He wanted to be sure that this would go okay. But Robin might not know, or worse she’d tell you and you’d laugh at him.  He couldn’t handle that.

He put his focus on choosing something to wear, something that wouldn’t look like it too much effort and yet came off attractive.

Back in your bedroom, you were freaking out. And Robin wasn’t helping. She had taken to pulling clothes from your closet to laugh at. It was like she wanted to stress you out. You tried to keep your focus on the tiny foam tipped applicator brush between your fingers, smudging very light peach eye shadow over your lids. You’d already filled in your eyebrows and put on the faintest amount of blush, to look flushed but not caked with makeup.  

Robin sauntered behind you, holding up a teddy bear themed knit sweater with a cheeky grin. “I think this would be perfect for your date with Harrington.” She giggled, bouncing the material up and down behind your head.

You scoffed, rolling your eyes as you tried to apply some mascara to your lashes.  “Yeah, that’s a no.” You muttered, jabbing the wand back into its pot and pulling it out to force more product onto the brush, swiping it thoroughly through your lashes till they looked defined enough for your liking.  You reached into the cup you’d filled with various lip glosses and lipsticks, digging through to find the cherry flavour you wanted. It was just pink enough to look defined on your face, but it wouldn’t stain the skin if you made out with him. Not that you were planning to make out with him. Just a precaution.

But it wasn’t in the cup. You whipped around to glare at Robin, who’d returned to your closet, examining a costume from the regional theatre’s production of Sweet Charity, which you’d snagged before the theatre snatched up all your hard work to keep in their vaults. “Did you borrow my cherry lip gloss?” you snapped.

Robin turned to you briefly, deadpan “Why on earth would I touch your lip gloss?” she asked, her voice completely monotone. You knew she didn’t touch the stuff. You were just stressed out.

“Damn...it was my favourite one...” you sighed, turning back to the mirror, choosing two lesser glosses and deciding between vanilla and strawberry flavour.  “Hey, while you’re in there, can you dig out my acid wash skirt? The one I hemmed too short, not the knee length one my mom bought.” Robin did a mocking salute before pushing through the hangers roughly. You felt like making a crack about her going back into the closet, but decided it wasn’t couth.

“Y/N! Come down if you’re eating! And bring Robin, she’s too skinny!” your mother called from the stairwell. You got up with a sigh, grabbing Robin’s wrist as she threw the skirt on your messy bed. You picked at your dinner nervously, unsure if eating would be beneficial to you or if it would just make you look bloated. Across town, Steve ate cold pizza while standing in the fridge.  Neither one of you were exactly focused on eating, simply on killing time before they had to meet one another.

Once you were able to excuse yourself, Robin left you to panic on your own and you went back to getting ready. Time flew by much faster with Robin not looming behind you, you were able to relax again as you dressed and painted your nails. Your tight denim skirt and white imitation silk blouse weren’t exactly comfortable, but you looked good and when you saw Steve’s car pull up to your house, you made your break downstairs. You shoved your feet into your white tennis shoes and threw your purse over your shoulder.  

“Be back later! Don’t wait up!” you called, yanking open the door. You waved shyly at Steve, who you found waiting outside his car, leaning on the passenger side door.  He looked effortlessly cool and confident; he wasn’t even looking at you. You made your way quickly over to the car, muttering a quick hello which he didn’t return. He did come to your side of the car and opened the door for you. That was the first time he looked at you in your whole interaction and he looked...nervous. It only showed in his eyes, but they completely gave him away.

He rushed to his own side again and climbed in, starting the car fast. You sped off a bit too fast out of your street and off into the night. Steve had the radio on low and The Smiths were playing, softly filling the car. You watched him drive, how he slowly began to find himself with his hands on the steering wheel and his eyes on the road.  You watched the grin slide onto his lips and the way it lit up his face, how it warmed his eyes and brought a bit of colour to his paled complexion.

“So, where are you taking me here?” you asked, turning to look at him fully. You crossed your right leg over your left, tapping your foot slightly to the melancholic wailing coming from the stereo.

“I know this absolutely awful diner, just the worst. And I figured, since it’s always empty, we’d go there, since its quiet. And hopefully, if all goes to plan, you won’t let me eat there ever again.” He chuckled and you bit back a grin, nodding slowly. With anyone else, having a boy tell you that they were bringing you to a secluded, empty, crappy diner would make you nervous and annoyed, but Steve was so trustworthy.  He wouldn’t pull any tricks on you. So you let him drive you to the outskirts of town to a faded, desolate diner off the turnpike, its spinning sign spelling out ‘Benny’s Burgers’.

“Isn’t this the place where the owner killed himself? In like the dining room?” you asked, furrowing your brow.

“No clue.” Steve replied with a shrug. He put the car in park and climbed out easily. You took a breath and followed behind quickly, not wanting to be left behind in the empty, dark, and far too quiet parking lot. Steve held open the door for you and ushered you in quickly to the desolate diner. The bright, white florescent lights hit you like a wall and you went momentarily blind, squinting under their harsh glow. You hadn’t realized how dark it was outside until they smacked you in the face.

Steve found you a booth and you slid in, still not used to the lights. He looked over you, concerned. “You alright over there?” he asked, leaning his elbows on the table as the ancient waitress brought you menus and cups of coffee.

“Just regaining sight, why is it so bright in here?” you asked, rubbing your eyes rigorously.

“No idea, it’s always like this at night.” Steve shrugged easily, flipping open the menu.

“You spend a lot of time here?” you followed his lead, looking over the standard diner fare at the offer.

“Yeah kind of...” Steve muttered, looking up to meet your eye. You nodded, easing him into the rest of the story obviously on the tip of his tongue. “My dad is a big investor in a chain of hardware stores. He’s always off out of town and my mom goes with him most of the time, so I’m on my own a lot. Big empty house, gets quiet. Sometimes I come here.”

You nodded “I get it, kind of...my dad’s never home either. He’s a truck driver, so he’s always gone, driving something somewhere. My mom has a job here now, but before my sister was born, she used to be one too, that’s how they met.” You explained.

“You have a sister?” Steve asked, surprised by the news. He’d hardly heard of you, much less another one in the family.

“Yeah, she’s like seven years older than me. Lives in Kentucky now with her fiancé and their kid. You probably wouldn’t know her, she didn’t live her very long before she graduated and moved out.” You replied. Steve looked confused, so you added “I didn’t move here till like fourth grade, super late into the year.”

Suddenly, Steve’s face lit up into a look of pure realization “I totally remember you now!” he slapped the table. You raised an eyebrow, cocking your head to the side. Steve pulled his hand off the table, pushing himself into the back of the seat shamefully “From school, I mean...” he added.

“Oh yeah?” you chuckled awkwardly. There were two options here: one was embarrassing, the other flashy and cool. You were really hoping he remembered the cool thing, not the awkward one.

“Yeah! You were in my gym class that year, you totally yakked on the gym floor on like the first day!” he cried with a laugh. You felt your whole face turn beet red and you turned away, utterly embarrassed. You hated that memory; it made you feel so small. You were so nervous that day and the cafeteria had accidently served milk out of date, it was a recipe for disaster.

“Everyone called me puke face for like a year...” you muttered. That shut him up quick. Steve’s laughter died in his throat and he coughed to clear it, rubbing the back of his neck, heat rises up his skin.

“That sucks, man...” he said awkwardly, floundering for something to say to fix the moment. He found what he was looking for quickly. “If it makes you feel better, like a year later I ripped my pants in front of like the whole school at one of the big assemblies, Tommy never let me live it down.”

You smiled sadly “Yeah I remember, I laughed my ass off about your Spider Man undies.” This made Steve blush, which was cute. But a bit of bitter bile came up in the back of your throat and you let the words it carried with it out thoughtlessly. “But mostly I remembered the way your butt was the gossip of the school for the rest of the year. I was puke girl after what I did, but you were just hotter.”

Steve frowned “I mean, that’s not completely true: all the guys gave me the same amount people gave you. And the puke thing wore off after Ricky Scott got stuck on that chain in the woods and had to be rescued by the fire department.” He argued, crossing your arms over your chest.

“The difference is that you had people on your side. You had Carol and Macy and Tina all telling the boys to stop. The right people. Anyone who stood up for me was shamed too, it was too much of a risk. And Ricky was left in that tree by Tommy H and Chris Samuels. Nothing would’ve happened to him if they had stayed to help him.” You fired back quickly.

Steve opened his mouth to speak, but shut it again. What could he argue? That it wasn’t a competition? He was battling against the hurtful memory of yours he’d brought up. He wouldn’t pretend that he didn’t call you that behind your back, that he didn’t laugh when people made fun of you to your face. He was a bad guy, he knew that. He was trying to be better now. And that meant, in that moment, to shut up.

You sighed, releasing the anger. You shouldn’t have brought up any of it anyway. You had let most of it go, that little bit was the last of it that remained. “But nobody really remembers puke girl now, except for you, I guess. I lived it down.” You said offhandedly. Steve nodded, his mind elsewhere, trying to figure out how to fix this.

“But you know who’ll never like her nickname down?” you asked. Steve didn’t respond, but you said it anyway. “Carol.”

“Carol didn’t have a nickname.” Steve muttered, clearly annoyed by the mention of her name. He really didn’t like Carol, not after what she said about Nancy way back when they were just starting out.

“Oh yes she did. Everyone called her period head in sixth grade. She got her period in Mr. Fitz’s history class and after that everyone called her period head, cause her hair matched her jeans.” You giggled at the memory. Karma was sweet: Carol was the worst about your cruel nickname, having her deal with the same embarrassment for a year was sweet revenge.

“Nobody called her that after seventh grade, when Tommy beat up Anthony Parks.” Steve countered, leaning on the table. You’d piqued his interest just a bit. Or maybe it was your smile. You looked so happy in the moment, it was hard to ignore.

“You and your friends might not have, but mine did. After she pushed Amanda Peats down the stairs in freshman year, we all started calling her that in silent protest. Amanda’s boyfriend, Arnold took care of actually going after Carol for it, and getting his ass handed to him by Tommy for it. Whenever we talk about Carol, she’s still period head.”  You said a bit too proudly.

Steve nodded, taking a sip of his coffee. Your waitress had returned and you couldn’t even remember what you had ordered as you handed back your menus, your focus solely on Steve and his pensive, thoughtful look. You didn’t think you’d ever seen him look pensive in your life.

“So, wait, what did your friends call me?” he asked, setting the mug down.

You scrunched up your face thoughtfully “Oh different people called you different things...Harrington, the hair, I know the whole soprano section of the Hawkins High choir called you heart stopper Harrington. My friends alternated between Harrington and that douche.” You replied.

Steve nodded “Sounds about right, I knew about the heart stopper thing. Don’t know where it came from.”

“You went to see the choir in junior year.” Steve shook his head, looking at you like you were crazy. “No you did, I remember I was there too, I went to see Robin perform with the band and you were there in the third row. You had detention or something, forced to see the show. You smiled at Tammy Thompson and she about near fainted. That’s where the nickname came from.”  

Realization washed over his face “I had to go cause Ms. Seymour gave me detention for skipping drama like four times in a row.” He added quietly before turning to you, wide eyed “How do you remember all this stuff?”

You found yourself blushing again, looking down at your lap “I don’t really know...I guess my life has just happened in parallel to your for awhile and I never noticed that it was weird till now.” You said shyly.

Steve smiled cheekily “I like it.”

You rolled you eyes, trying not to smile back “Well that’s cause you’re an egomaniac.”  Steve laughed at that and you watched him for a second. A piece of his puffed up coif had fallen into his eyes and his eyes crinkled up at the edges when he laughed. You wished freak Byers was wandering around with his camera, taking his creeper shots. You wouldn’t have a copy of this moment.

When he finally recovered and your food arrived, Steve looked you over, watching you for signs of discontent. He’d already fucked up once and you finally seemed to be happy again, he didn’t want to ruin it. But he had one moment he wanted to recount with you.

“I remember you for one more thing, you know...” he said softly, building a large pile with his corned beef hash, using the sides of his fork to mix everything together.

“Oh yeah? What’s that?” you asked, leaning your head on your palm, watching him lazily.

“You were in my drama class in junior year. It was the sophomore class, cause I didn’t have the credits for the junior one and I needed a class that I couldn’t fail.” He said confidently.

You nodded slowly “That all?” It wasn’t exactly a deep memory, it hardly had anything to do with you, just a glimpse of your life happening far in the background of his.

Steve swallowed. This was the part that could hurt him, he didn’t know how you’d take it. “No, I remember one more thing. We had to do monologues for our final. I don’t remember most of them, because they were shit. But I remember yours. You did this one from some Shakespeare play and I just remember how...beautiful you liked. Seymour insisted on having everyone stand under the spotlight on the stage in the cafeteria. And you were up there, and your hair looked so pretty under the lights, and you seemed so...confident. You were the only one who seemed confident about anything. You did the best job.” He explained.

You demurred. This was not the amazing moment you wanted to remember. That moment was really insignificant in your life. You preferred backstage work, you move onto crew quickly. Nobody else thought that scene was good, everyone liked Kristy McNeel’s scene better, she did the monologue about Santa killing her mom so naturally it was popular.

But you didn’t say any of that, though.

“You remember that?” you asked softly, almost in a whisper. You suddenly felt very seen and very shy.  

“Yeah, it was cool! You did like Romeo and Juliet or something. I didn’t really get what you were saying, but you sounded so dreamy and sweet. And then I actually met you and-”

“And I was a massive bitch, sorry about that...” it was your turn to be embarrassed and awkward. You reached up to run your fingers through the side of your hair, destroying the styling you’d done in one awkward movement.

“It’s cool, I was a douche like all of the time you knew me, it evens out.” Steve shrugged “So wait, what do you think? Did my reviews live up?” he gestured wide towards the empty seating around you.

You chuckled “Well...yeah kind of.” Steve chuckled, shaking his head. “But I can see why you’d want to come here sometimes. It’s peaceful in a way.” The diner wasn’t insanely loud, but it wasn’t dead silent. You could hear the hum of the radio in the kitchen, the distant chattering of your waitress and the cook in the back, the jukebox in the corner looked absolutely desperate to be played. When combined, it wasn’t bad company. Add in the sound of your forks scraping plates and the cups hitting the table and a good book and this place could feel like home.

“Plus it’s open really late.” Steve added thoughtlessly. You raised an eyebrow at him curiously. Steve swallowed hard, his throat turning dry. “I have a bit of insomnia.” It wasn’t a complete lie, he just didn’t give any reasoning behind it. He could rationalize holding back information, it made things easier.

You pursed your lips, nodding your head back and forth “I guess that’s good then, good to have somewhere to go.” You decided.  “But you know what this means, right? Now I know your hiding place. Robin has been trying to figure out where you go besides your house, work, the arcade with Henderson, and the occasional party. Now I know, I could sell you out to her in a second.”

“Don’t you dare! That girl has been trying to get me to go to a Chicago concert with her for the past week and a half! Do you know how much Chicago sucks? If she knew where I hid from her I’d never hear the end of it.” Steve pleaded jokingly.

“Oh she’s on you about that too? I won’t go see it with her either! I saw them once, with my mom when I was ten, and it sucked ass. I won’t do it again.  I can’t believe she’s bugging you about it now!” you moaned, shaking her head as the image of Robin heckling Steve over the counter at Family Video to come to the dumb concert filled your mind and made you cringe. Poor guy, Robin was persistent about those sorts of things too, he probably never heard the end of it.

“It’s not so bad; if it was like three towns over I’d go see it with her, but it’s right in Carmel, people will see me there.” Steve said.

“Oh, and I thought you were over caring about your rep in this town?” you asked cheekily, swatting his arm.

“A man’s gotta put his foot down somewhere. I choose to not be seen at Chicago concerts with girls who I’m not dating.” Steve answered truthfully. Your waitress brought over your check and cleared your half-eaten food away before either of you could pretend to want to take it home. Steve dropped two twenties on the check before you could even attempt to pull your wallet from your purse.

“So, and correct me if I’m wrong, but you’re saying that you’d be seen at a Chicago concert if the girl was putting out.” You asked with a giggle. The logic was so stupid, you had to laugh.

“Pretty much, you ready to blow this place?” he offered you his hand and you took it happily, letting him pull you up and walk you out of the diner. It was nice; his hands were warm and enveloped yours easily. You found yourself gravitating towards the heat his body gave off. And he smelt good, like good cologne and hairspray and something else, maybe laundry detergent? Whatever it was, it made the smell utterly intoxicating. You wanted to be wrapped up in that smell and that warmth.

Steve drove you home in comfortable silence, your hand held in his and your gazes switching from each other to the road ahead and back again. You felt giddy and drunk. You really liked him. That was weird to think, that you liked Steve. You remembered making fun of him with your friends in school, joking about how dumb his hair is and how stupid he was. But now...now, you saw something different in him. How self-aware he was, how focused he was. He was just a big old dork with money and a cool car and more than an ounce of charm.

You liked that he was a dork. It made him more approachable.

Steve already liked you. He knew that he liked you the second he saw you smile in Burger in a Basket the day before. He didn’t want you to stop smiling. You were too pretty to not smile. And you were smart and funny and you paid attention to people, to him. He wasn’t used to that. Nancy didn’t pay attention to him, especially after Christmas. He always paid attention to the girls he dated, especially Nancy, but you? You matched his attention at every move.  It was flattering. But it was also nice to feel as though his effort was matched by yours. It made him feel wanted.

“You know...in that drama class, I had a massive crush on you...” you whispered softly, running your thumb over his knuckles. There were scarred and jagged from some events you weren’t a part of. You wanted to know the stories behind the scars, the fights he’d won or probably lost. Everyone already knew that he lost a fight to Billy Hargrove, expected, and Jonathan Byers, very unexpected and kind of embarrassing.

“Yeah?” Steve muttered back, his expression softening.

“Yeah...I mean you were so cool and charming...it was hard not to like you. But I did fall out of it quick enough. You’re a terrible actor.” You chuckled, brushing a strand of hair out of your hair, grinning up at him.  Steve scoffed dramatically, rolling his eyes with a wide smirk.

“No, I’m serious you’re awful! You did that scene from A Streetcar Named Desire, which I’m sure Seymour chose for you since you were never there, and you were awful! You didn’t even know what you were saying!” You cried. Steve shook his head, laughing along with you. He pulled up to your house, parking outside.

The pair of you stared at one another for a moment, the laughter dying out in both your throats and your eyes locking onto one another. You weren’t sure what to do, but you couldn’t look away. You watched as Steve’s eyes flicked to your lips and yours did the same. You couldn’t tell who kissed who first, but you knew that Steve was a really good kisser. Top five at least, maybe even top three. He was firm and slightly aggressive. He kissed you like it was his last moment on earth and he needed to savour it. He set your whole body on fire in a single moment.

Steve broke away first, but you pulled him back fast, pulling him to your chest and letting his hands run up your back and to your hips. The gear shift was in your way, but it was clear that Steve wanted you even closer. You wanted him closer too.  

When you broke away again, your chest heaving in breaths, you nodded to Steve with a small smirk “Wanna go to your place?” you asked slowly, drinking him in.

Steve’s eyes darkened and he swallowed hard, nodding hard. He shifted the car into drive and slammed the gas, sending you flying back in your seat and laughing loudly.

This was going to be a fun night.