#mainly i pray u can't tell if wrote this is two separate batches

[stevebabey]

everything leads to you

a/n: gasp! another friends to lovers fic, u can’t stop me! will i write another trope? eventually. but not today hehe word count: 4.4k summary: you don’t want to read into the hints steve’s putting down and maybe, you’re a little clueless as well. fear not, robin’s here to hatch a plan to get two pining fools together. friends to lovers. 

There were plenty of things Steve loved about you.

Be it your quick wit, your unabashed kindness for the kids, and especially your bright eyes, the wholesome energy that seemed to light up your entire body. Your obliviousness? He didn't love as much.

Well, maybe obliviousness is the wrong word. Whatever it is, it comes with your go-with-the-flow attitude, never wanting to give more weight to moments that didn't need them. And it worked well most of the time.

When Dustin had broken his wrist the first week into summer, goofing off at the skate bowl with the party — your house had been just around the corner and none of them had hesitated to hurry down and fetch you.

As you —albeit badly but hey, learners permit counts— drove Dustin to the hospital, he had cradled his wrist and asked if you wouldn't tell the others he had cried. "What crying?" you replied with a smile, taking your eyes off the road for a moment to smile comfortingly at him — then swerved to keep the car straight.

You'd done the same for Steve when he poured his heart out about Nancy at first the party after Tina's. Too heavy on the gin, you'd sensed his façade cracking and pulled him to the back porch. The last thing you needed was Steve dealing with any more whispers in the hallways tomorrow. Steve had felt pathetic, head in his hands, tears leaking through the cracks.

But you had dutifully listened throughout it all, resting your head on his shoulder to comfort him. And when you fed him the water and Advil that would save his life tomorrow, he whispered, words wobbling, "Can you not tell anyone about this?"

You smiled, nudging his hand that held the water glass, your voice matching his whisper. "About what?"

It's a sunshine trait of yours, sometimes bleeding into your genuinely terrible memory which happens to make you an expert secret keeper. But, it also means there is no such thing as hint-dropping with you. It's probably why you and Robin are best friends.

Steve's witnessed it before and it baffled him, the flow of conversation between the two of you which pinged about like a pinball machine. Robin's mouth moving at a million miles an hour and you, taking it all at face value without a second thought.

Most people get caught in Robin's whirlwind sentences, especially Steve who gets stuck the moment she seems to mention something left field. It's an art form, watching you nod and deliver the perfect response, having kept up with everything that falls out of Robin's mouth. Like now;

"See, Steve?" She calls over her shoulder from where she was leaning counter of Family Video, yourself on the other side. Steve was reshelving tapes, the stack high in his hands and it didn't seem to matter that he hadn't been a part of the conversation at all. In fact, Steve's not even sure who Robin's talking to when she calls out again. "Someone who can keep up!"

"Uh huh!" He calls back, moving enough tapes so he can peer over them. His heart jumps as he realises who it is, your eyes meeting across the store. You brighten, straightening up and sending a wave across the store. Steve goes to do the same instinctively, only realising his mistake when the tapes in his hands topple to the ground.

Crouching to pick them up is a saving grace; you won't be able to see the embarrassed ruby colour of his cheeks. He can hear Robin's usual jibe of 'dingus' at the counter, and by the time he's gathered all the tapes again, you're about ready to head out the door. You must be in a hurry, considering you usually take the time to talk to Steve as well.

"See-ya Robin!" You grin, pushing off the counter, and at the sight of Steve's head popping back up from between the shelves, you bid him goodbye as well, another yell across the store. "And bye Steve!"

It sends his heart thundering, your lively sunny disposition that Steve finds impossible to frown around. You have the unique ability to make him feel like a foolish 15-year-old again; reduced to pink cheeks and lines that never come out as smooth as they sound in his head. By the time he's re-shelved the stack and wandered back to the front counter, Robin is waiting. She leans backward, her back to the counter and elbows propped up.

"That might be your most dingus moment yet."

Steve grimaces, eyes narrowing. "Yeah, thanks for that." He speaks sarcastically, a hand combing through his hair.

"I don't understand why you get so weird around her," Robin began, winding a spare piece of twine between her fingers. "You two have been friends for the longest time; hell, she put up with you in high school. That deserves some type of award."

Steve busies himself, aligning tapes on the counter to avoid the blundering conversation with Robin. "I am not weird around her."

Robin snorts. "Yeah right — just know there's been another mental tally added to 'you suck'."

Steve scowls, his expression sarcastic at his best friend's words. Annoyingly, as usual, she made a decent point. You and Steve had been friends for a fairly long time, connections through each of your parents that meant the two of you inadvertently spent a lot of time together growing up.

You didn't exactly roll with the 'cool' kids when it came to high school, though mainly through the fact you didn't give a lick about popularity. Your friendly relationship with Steve likely kept your name out of the gutters, especially when he had to shoot down his friends who liked to jeer, asking why he was still friends with the likes of you.

Being friends with Jonathan Byers didn't help in that regard. In fact, technically, it could be blamed for dragging you into the absurd crazy situation of Will's disappearance. You had been there in the crucial moments, palm sliced and armed with the axe Joyce had battered the walls with, ready to fight a monster you'd never seen before for your friends.

But nothing was as seared in your mind as the pivotal moment when Steve came back.

You had just watched him scamper out the door, with half a mind to follow him but you wouldn’t do that to Jonathan or Nancy. And then in between the terrifying flashes of Christmas lights, your axe knocked from your hands, he had come back. Bursting back through the door he had just escaped through and saving all three of you. 

And well, there are just some situations you can't through without getting closer on the other end.

It's not like you hadn't been friends before but after? Consider you joined at the hip. At some point, Steve realised that you had likely been the most consistent person in his life for, like, ever. Even now, you're here, still sticking around after batting practice on demodogs in the junkyard and busting him out of the Russian base. It's why Steve can't ruin it.

"Okay, there's no need to pout dude. That shit only works on y/n."

Steve blinks, pulled from his thoughts with a soft shake of his head. "M'not pouting." He mumbles, but can't shake the mopey expression in his head.

What a cruel world — you're close, but not close enough and Steve doesn't think he’s allowed to ask for anything more.

Robin sighs, tilting her head to examine Steve as she takes pity on him. Admittedly, she thought 'king steve' wasn't capable of being nervous but it took about three shifts at Scoops together for him to tank that assumption. You were his achilles heel, the crush he could never shake. And now, a year or so later, he was still pouting about it.

"Why haven't you just... tried asking her out?"

"Yeah, right." Steve scoffed but then he gave a sigh, realising he wasn't being helpful. "Look, I do want to— but she’s probably my oldest friend at this point and the last thing I want to do is build myself to ask her out and then try pretend that the rejection won't kill me completely."

In a nervous motion, Steve dragged a hand down his face, muffling a frustrated groan. Robin had the urge to call him a drama queen but held her tongue for once, seemingly aware that he would just keep rambling if she kept silent.

"So, instead I’ve tried, like, drop some hints—"

"Hints?"

"Yes, hints!” Steve repeated, louder this time. “Like, I don't know, lingering touches — the moves I used to put on girls! y/n's seen me pick up chicks before."

"Hello! Are we friends with the same y/n?” Robin's face twisted into a perturbed expression, flinging her hands out in front of her as she spoke. “You know that even if she's picking up any hints, she'd never comment on them. That's like, what she does best."

Steve's brain stopped reeling for a moment, stunned. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t considered that before. Robin barreled on, stealing his attention once more.

"Look," she began, voice softer and sincere. "I can do my best to talk to her but—"

"Yes!"

"But," She emphasized. "No promises, Harrington."

Steve nodded, his heart thundering a little faster at the prospect. "Okay, yeah, wing-woman me."

Then, as if he remembered who his best friend was, Steve raised his brows in her direction. "You know this means you’ll have to say nice things about me."

Robin rolled her eyes. "Surprisingly enough, dingus, I'm a pretty decent wing-woman when I'd like to be."

Steve couldn't contain his snort. "Oh yeah, to who?"

The argument over who was the better wing-person kept them both entertained for the rest of the shift.

—

It’s a little surprising when the tape Robin dumps onto the couch beside you, along with some candied popcorn from work, is Sixteen Candles.

Mainly surprising when you consider Robin’s usual distaste for romance films  — “I’ll watch em’ when they start putting the hot ladies with equally hot ladies, instead of bland men.” she had said when you’d first asked. 

But obviously, that didn’t seem to apply to tonight. 

“Not that I mind,” You begin, picking up the tape and flipping it over in your hands. “But why the genre switch? I thought we said we were watching ‘Once Upon A Time In America’?” 

Robin flopped down beside you on the couch, swinging her legs up onto your lap and releasing a sigh large enough it looked as though her entire body deflated a bit.

“I know but I’ve gotta ask you some lovey-dovey questions and this will make you so much more pliable.” 

You double-take, mind stuttering as it pings off in every direction. Lovey-dovey questions? Robin gives nothing away, simply cracking open the popcorn and shoveling it into her mouth. Her enthusiasm made you wonder if she’d skipped dinner at work again, too forgetful to bring some with her but Robin only lifted her feet from your lap. 

“Be a dear, won’t you?” 

Smiling amused, you slid off the couch and unboxed the tape, feeding it into the slot. The screen flickered, grains distorted before it focused and the opening sequence began. You tailed back to the couch, lifting Robin’s ankles and letting them land back in your lap as you sit.

Robin offers the bag of popcorn and you snag a handful, still eyeing her suspiciously. You’re surprised when she stays composed, eyes trained on the screen and you take the hint: she’ll ask her questions whenever she feels like it. 

You let yourself enjoy the movie; you’ve seen it a dozen times now, reciting lines along as it goes. “I can’t believe they forgot my birthday.” you whisper along and Robin nudges you with her foot, grinning at your performance. 

It’s nearly halfway through the film when Robin finally speaks up, turning her eyes on you — you do your best to pretend the potential questions haven’t been distracting you the whole film. 

“So,” she begins and you have the acute feeling that you’re being studied. “Steve.” 

“Steve?” you echo, confused, and turn to face her. 

“I just noticed he’s been nice to you recently. Extra nice. Abnormally nice. Like I have to beg the dingus to pick me up from parties but he offers you the moment you mention them! Didn’t he bring you a strawberry shake the other day for no reason? Just ‘cos you like them?” In typical Robin-fashion, the words fly out one after the other without a break in between. When she finally pauses, you blink and try to process all her words. 

“Yeah, but Steve’s just being nice?” You don’t mean for it to come out as a question but all of a sudden, it’s a great question. Of course, you’ve been secretly reveling in the niceties that Steve gives only to you; your cheeks hot and heart thumping whenever your thoughts drift back to the boy. 

“Right?” You ask, the movie is completely forgotten as you try to pick apart the implication of Robin’s words. The next words escape you before you can register what you’re saying. “You don’t think he likes me, do you?” 

Even saying the words aloud makes you flush, lips twitching up at the thought and you remember Robin’s scrutinizing gaze a moment too late. 

“Aha!” She scrambles up from her spot on the couch, launching over to your side. “I knew it, I knew it. You like him.” 

You splutter, trying to recover but it’s fruitless as Robin presses her hands to your cheeks and feels the undeniable warmth of your blush. It doesn’t help that she continues in a sing-song voice, “You’re blushing.” 

You huff a laugh and push her hands off your face, resolve crumbling as you admit. “Fine! I just... I didn’t want to read into anything. He could just be being nice, Robs.” 

Robin grins, tucking her hair behind her ears as she relents her closeness, leaning back to slouch on the couch now that she gotten you to crack. “Somehow I doubt that. I can’t believe it  — I was on the money! I told Steve you’d say something like that.” 

For the first time in your friendship with Robin, you’re barely able to keep up. each new sentence sends your mind reeling but by the time you open your mouth, she’s barreling on.

“You have to tell him. obviously. The dingus is completely enamored with you. It’s been drivin’ me crazy at work whenever you come in  — I swear he loses at least half his brain cells when you’re nearby.” 

“Wha— did he tell you?” You wince at how excited it comes out, unable to help the glee that leaks into your words. Robin, thankfully, doesn’t comment on it. 

"No! But it doesn't take an idiot to figure it out."

"Well,” you smile mischievously “You are an idiot."

Abruptly, a pillow hits you over the head, thrown by Robin and you begin to laugh as she pelts you with another, muttering about ‘never trying to set up her shitty friends again.’ "Ow! Okay, I was kidding!"

Robin finally halts her attack and huffs, blowing a stray piece of hair from her face. She fixes you with a pointed look. "You'll be the idiot now if you don't do anything about this."

You can’t help the way the pout on your lips, a thousand excuses rushing up your throat but all that comes out is, “ughhhh.” because Robin is right. Robin is always right.

Your eyes flick to the television and you can see Robin biting her lip in suspense, wondering whether she’ll have to continue playing matchmaker for the next month until one of you bites the bullet and does something. 

“We finish Sixteen Candles first,” You point to the television and can’t help the giddy grin, nerves and excitement combined in your stomach. “Then, we plan.” 

—

Steve doesn’t know what’s got Robin so antsy. 

Sure, half of the time Robin walks around like she’s got ants in her pants, skittish and unable to sit still for too long. But this is a different sort of antsy than Steve has become accustomed to — shit, did she give coffee another try? 

Steve does his best to ignore her pacing, pushing the reshelving cart through the aisles idly as he works through the last 20 minutes of his shift. He does manage to get at least half of them done before his attention is stolen again by Robin picking up the phone, 5 minutes before he’s done. Peculiarly, she’s not answering a call but instead making one. 

She turns and steals a glance at Steve, then looks at the time and Steve just knows she’s up to something. 

Eyes narrowed in suspicion, Steve pushes the cart back to the counter and abandons it, leaning back on the counter opposite Robin. She speaks into the receiver of the phone, clutching it with both hands and Steve feels a pang of worry in his chest — nothing’s happened, right? Before he can get a chance to ask, Robin is slamming the phone down and spins around to face Steve. 

“Who was that?” 

“Doesn’t matter. The real question, Steve, is why didn’t you shave today?” 

The question takes him aback, surprised enough that when Robin comes closer, she gets about an inch within his hair before Steve remembers to duck. He swerves away from her fussing hands, brows raised. 

“Woah, woah! What are you doing? You know you can’t touch the hair!” Steve whines, reaching up to fix it. “What’s all the fuss about? Who’d you call?” 

Robin, incessantly annoying and usually unable to be quiet for the life of her, is quiet. Seemingly sworn to silence, she just chuckles and shakes her head, eyes bright.

“Nobody!” she says loudly because apparently, she can’t lie very well either. 

Steve scrunches his nose, confused. He considers puzzling over it, sure that with enough pressure Robin would crack and release her secrets as she always did. But a glance at the clock tells him it had just hit 6 o’clock. He’s a free man. 

Steve shrugs off his vest without a moment to waste, already feeling lighter knowing that he could enjoy the rest of his day off — as much as he enjoys getting paid to stand and chat with his best friend, Keith worked the other half of this day, and any shift with Keith was considered a bad one. 

“Okay,” Steve finally speaks, gathering up his items from behind the counter and swinging his keys around his fingers. “Well, don’t burn the place down while I’m gone, alright?” 

Robin was nodding fervently, still attached to the desk beside the phone and attempting to look casual. She seemed a tad too distracted, eyes dancing past him into the parking lot of the Family Video store. 

“Hey, did you ever— I mean, did you, uh, wing-woman me at all? I know you two had your usual movie night last night.” The words come out more nervous than Steve intends and he clears his throat, willing his cheeks to stay cool. 

“Yeah!” Robin responds instantly, the word nearly shouted and Steve blinks,  leaning forward into the counter eagerly. He waits for a moment to see what she would say, only growing more confused as she twists her lips to keep any further words from tumbling out. 

“So? What— did she seem interested? Do I have a chance?” 

“I think,” Robin squeaks, as though she can’t contain the glee in her voice. “You better just go ask her yourself.” 

She extends her arm out, one finger pointing out the glass windows to the parking lot. Steve follows it, spinning quickly to spy what she was referring to and— there you are, leaning against his car and looking pretty as ever. You’re reclined against the driver’s door, a book clasped in your hands and your head bent over it, lost in the story. 

Steve whips back around, only slightly more nervous than he had been a second ago, and hisses at Robin, as if you could hear them all the way from the parking lot.

“What is that supposed to mean?” 

“What d’ya mean ‘what does that mean?’ Go talk to her dingus. I’ve worked my magic.” 

Steve pauses, his limbs locked as he scours Robin’s expression to make 100% sure that she wasn’t pulling his leg. It would be a tad too cruel for her usual pranks, some remnant worry leftover from his previous friendship with Tommy H that makes him worry, but Steve relaxes at what he finds on her face. Barely restrained joy, her bottom lip trapped in an attempt to hide her grin. 

Despite knowing Steve can trust her with this, it doesn’t deter his nerves which are beginning to feel fried as he peeks over his shoulder, stealing another glance at you leaning against his car. 

The peach-coloured sundress you’re wearing flutters in the wind and that doesn’t help either, Steve swallowing down a groan at how bewitching you look, wrapped up in the evening sunlight. 

He steels his nerves. With a terse nod to Robin, Steve starts out the door, barely hearing what Robin calls out to him as he goes. 

“If you have any lip-balm it would be a good time to—” 

The rest of her sentence is sealed inside the store as the door hisses shut. Steve tries not to overthink that sentence, thankful his lips don’t feel chapped as he licks them nervously. He approaches the car, trying his best to shove down the nervous feelings and appear somewhat charming. Harrington Charm, he thinks to himself. 

“Hey, stranger.” He greets, an easy smile tugging at his mouth as you look up from your book. He tries not to revel in the delight that perks up your expression, previously furrowed in concentration as you squinted to read your book. 

“Hi.” You reply sweetly, snapping the book shut and holding it to your chest as you cross your arms shyly. Then, you seem to think the better of it, spinning and placing it upon the roof of Steve’s car before turning back to him — you hope your smile isn’t giving away your jitters. The plan, you think to yourself, stick to the plan. What was that again?

“Not that m’complaining but I gotta ask wh--” 

“Do you trust me?” You don’t mean to cut him off but the words rush out the moment you gather enough courage to say them. “I- I wanna try something.” 

He responds too quick. “Sure, yeah, anything.” 

A flush crawls up his neck, embarrassed over his over-eagerness that is surely giving him away. But he doesn’t get time to recover, about to stammer out a poor cover-up, because your hands reach up to cup his face and then you’re kissing him. 

You’re kissing him. 

It’s a whirlwind; there’s a rush of emotions bursting through in Steve’s chest, a sudden surge of utter euphoria wrapped in surprise that sets each of his senses alight. It’s like he’s been struck with lightning, his world cleaved in half — all the moments leading up to this kiss and all the moments that will come after. Everything leading to this, to you.

Your soft and supple lips pause for a moment, prepared to pull back and deal with the damage in case you’ve been led wrong by Robin but Steve doesn’t let you — his hands finally awaken and there is a desperation, a fervor, hidden in the gentle motions of his hands which cup your jaw and pull you closer. 

He kisses, deeper this time, as though he’s trying to learn the curve of your mouth all in one go, memorizing it as he drinks in the affection from you. Your hands are in his hair, arms around his neck to pull him evermore closer. Steve swears that he can recognize the warmth of love in the press of your lips, familiar, as you’ve loved each other all this time and yet, it’s new.  

The kiss feels like ‘where have you been?’ whispered from both of you, a mixture of desperation and relief. 

‘right here. i’m just been waiting for you to find me’.  

“You kissed me.” Steve breathes, shock coating each word — the only thing he can think to say after your lips part. It’s uttered with such disbelief that for a moment, you seriously wonder if Robin fed you a whole bunch of nonsense despite the kiss that just set your heart racing. 

“I did.” You whisper, eyes darting over his face to try to decipher his expression. Beneath his faint freckles, the skin blooms pink and you hope, you pray it’s a blush — it certainly feels like there’s a fire beneath your skin after that kiss. 

“Is that alright?” A moment of worry where your heart feels suspended halfway up your throat but then, he smiles. Bright and brilliant, the spell of shock is broken and it launches him in action, his hands caressing the side of your face tenderly. 

“Yes! Holy shit, yes, that’s more than alright, I just—” His sentence breaks off when he captures your lips with his once more and he hums lovingly into the kiss. Something inside you preens, knowing now that he undoubtedly has wanted this as much as yourself. 

He pulls back, breath a little ragged  “You just took me by surprise, sweet girl.” 

The pet-name makes you soften unbearably, leaning into his chest and nuzzling into the hand that holds your cheek. As if your adoration isn’t evident enough, your prepped explanation springs to mind and spills out your mouth without a second thought. 

“I'm sorry, I'm not too good with words so Robin thought a kiss would work— and, I'm sorry I missed your hints, I was worried I might be reading into something and mfh—"

Your words are smothered beneath another chaste kiss and you don’t even mind, already stretching up onto your toes to kiss him harder, fingers curling around the fabric of his polo shirt. Breathless is how you feel, pulling back after a moment and feeling something close to drunk off Steve’s kisses — your head is spinning again and it makes your face split into a wide grin, then giddy laughter tumbles out before you can stop it. 

“Never—” Steve begins, leaning forward to lean his forehead against your own. The tip of his nose brushes yours and you feel delirious, enchanted by the ardent and affectionate look in his eyes. “ —apologise for kissing me. You can— Christ, you can kiss me anytime you like.” 

You’re aware the expression on your face betrays just how enamored you are with him, with this moment; the rays of the setting sun travel through the trees and blanket the parking lot in a soft burnt amber. 

“Anytime?” you ask sweetly, reveling in the warmth of his chest under your palms and the fire in his grin.  

His eager kiss, fervent and stirring, is answer enough. 

—

tags below!

@hawkinsindiana @harringtonbf @parkerroos @cptnleviackerman @skylergisondo @cultivatingkindness​ @aphrodites-perfume @lurkymurker @familyvideostevie @rogersharringtons @sattlersquarry @yellowharrington @milkiane