#spiderman!steve harrington | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

superblysubpar · 16 days ago

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series masterlist | <- Prologue | Chapter 2 ->

chapter summary: As terror reigns in the food court when the Mind Flayer comes to collect, an old friend returns to Hawkins.

🎧 : tracks 02-12

7,615 words // my blog is 18+ // please see the masterlist for warnings - this chapter contains canon-typical gore, mentions of alcohol, blood, vomit, nausea, and parental death // spiderman divider made by @saradika-graphics

“Hey,” his voice cracks, the back of his hand wipes at his nose.

“Hey,” you echo, looking down at the duffel bag at your feet.

A trunk slams closed, knocked twice by your dad’s palm in case you didn’t hear it the first time.

When you look up, he’s smiling at Steve and that same palm is clapping him on the shoulder. “Hey, son, you coming with to the train station?”

Steve still hasn’t looked at you, and a mumbled, “No Sir,” and your mom’s unsubtle glare at your father and frantically waved hand from the porch makes him finally catch on.

“Oh, right…um…” he looks at his watch then you and Steve apologetically, “We gotta get going soon, kid, okay?”

“I know,” you nod along with the words and blink about a billion times to keep them at bay, but it doesn’t seem to be working.

Your dad squeezes Steve’s shoulder before he jogs up to the front steps and raises his hands in surrender to your mother, the pair ducking their heads and hissing whispered scolds and apologizes at each other that you try to ignore.

“Did you, um,” you clear your throat and kick the toe of your converse against the crack in your driveway, desperate to say anything impressive, lasting, monumental in terms of your feelings and the moment, but nothing seems right. “You…um…”

Steve doesn’t give you the chance anyways, stealing the air from your lungs when his arms wrap around you quickly, tightly, and like they have no intention of ever dropping. Yours move just as fast, wrapping around his waist and pressing you as close together as possible, your nose squished against his shoulder that dampens beneath your cheek.

He squeezes you harder, a shaky breath slips out of him as your fingers curl into his shirt, knowing what he’s about to do and you can’t stop it.

“Don’t,” he gasps, like speaking is the hardest thing he’s ever had to do, he sniffles, and he lets you go, “Don’t be a stranger, okay?”

“Steve-“ your tears slip further down your cheeks, turning the cement at his sneakers a darker gray.

His fingers press to his eyes as he quickly jogs down your driveway, a small shake of his shoulders, and then he’s around the corner and gone from your sight.

Your hand presses to your mouth, but the sob still escapes.

It’s all a blur after that.

The getting in the car, arriving at the station, the getting on the train and resting your temple against the cold glass of a window as your mother’s thumb soothes over your knuckles.

The town of Hawkins, Indiana turning more blurry each second, like it’s a distant and underwater memory, until it disappeared altogether.

Your eyes snap open as your forehead smacks the glass window, hard, as the brakes beneath the bus scream in protest at the sudden stop.

Simple Minds blares then fades from your ears and as you push down your headphones to just catch the driver’s apology.

“…‘Bout that. Looks like we got some kind of road closure, let me go see what’s going on folks.”

By folks, he means you and two other passengers who are rolling their own necks and rubbing at bleary eyes.

Around your neck, Simple Mind fades, whispers of We Belong tickle your ears as you look out the window.

At first, you just blink at what you see. A weary and anxious version of you stares back, one with frizzled hair and sunken skin under her eyes and stained and wrinkled clothing. The night beyond her too dark to make out more than the top of a tree line and the edge of a road sign. But then you catch the faint trail of dark clouds against the darker sky.

Not clouds, but a plume of smoke.

“Hawkins!” The driver’s voice whips you and your reflection’s attention to the front of the vehicle, not realizing you’ve stood while staring, hand now gripping the seat back in front of you so tightly, your knuckles hurt.

A uniformed soldier stands next to the driver, solemn faced and waiting.

The bus driver waves his hand at him and says, “Maybe you should have missed the bus, kid.”

“I’m sorry…” your finger slams the stop button on your walkman as you step into the aisle of the bus, “What’s going on?”

The bus driver rolls his fingers at you and your things, motioning you to pick up the pace so it seems as he sighs. “You’re getting off here, since your destination is Hawkins.”

The military man starts towards you, his boots heavy and thunking the whole way down to your seat ominously as the other two passengers just stare and don’t offer any of their help or even a reassuring smile.

“What do you mean I’m getting off here? What am I - hey don’t, what do you think you’re…” your tone sharpens as the uniformed soldier picks up your bags. Feeling as if you have no choice but to start following behind him as he walks back the way he came with each of your bags slung over his shoulders. “Excuse me? Where are you going with my things? Hello? What’s going on?”

“Some sort of fire or something blocking the road,” the driver’s tone attempting to assure you but doing the opposite as he adds on, “The military will escort you the rest of the way into Hawkins.”

“The military will…” you start, confused, as you’re basically shoved down the steps of the bus and you turn back to face your driver with wide eyes as your feet hit the road, “Why is the military in Hawkins?”

The driver snorts and just yells, “Good luck!” then the door slams closed in your face.

Your hands run through your hair as you watch the bus continue without you, watch as it turns down the road it’s directed towards instead of going straight - a blockade made out of olive and tan vehicles and accompanied by flashing blue and red lights in it’s original path.

“Miss,” a deep voice to your left makes you jump, a hand flies over your heart to settle it.

“Sorry,” the uniformed man apologizes, but his hand gestures to an open military Jeep, your bags in the back already as his brisk voice urges you, “I’ll be driving you to where you need to go.”

Your feet carry you a step towards him, seeing now that he can’t be much older than you.

“What’s going on? Why is the military here? Why…”

“The National Guard is usually called in for these sorts of things miss,” he encourages you forward with a gentle tug of your elbow, voice less severe and more soothing.

“These sorts…what? What happened?” You blink at him as he helps you take a step up into the jeep while holding your door open.

“Relief aid after a disaster, miss.”

“Relief aid after a disaster?” You clarify, certain you’d misheard him.

“Yes.”

Your hand stops him from closing the door as you frown, narrowing your eyes.

“What sort of disaster?”

“A fire,” he sighs, eyeing your hand, and you think he might honest to god be considering slamming the door anyways.

“The National Guard was called in to help after a fire?”

“A big one. Can you please-“

“Where?” You accuse, pointing to the smoke, “That’s not Hawkins. Why can’t we drive into Hawkins on the bus?”

“The mall just outside of town. The new bus route to Hawkins goes by the mall. There’s a stop there. Can we go now?”

He glares at your hand until you move it to your lap, then slams your door closed, like that’s all he’ll be saying on the matter.

Turns out, it was all he’d be saying period.

The entire twenty minute drive into town is silent after your several follow up questions go unanswered. And when he lets you out at your unlit and locked house, he quickly climbs back into the driver’s seat and goes back the way he came.

Your fingers brush your temple before they drop in a half-hearted salute as you scowl and mutter under your breath, “Protect and serve, alright.”

You’ve been awake for nearly twenty-four hours now, save for your nap on the bus that left you more unrested than rested. And now, standing on your front porch, no keys and no lights on and no car in the driveway, you’re beyond stressed, tired, and in need of a gallon of coffee and a hug from your mom.

As you stare up at the stars and think of some sort of plan - it dawns on you what day it is and why your parents might not be home. Your legs and back ache and beg you to sit as you make your way down the driveway once more, leaving your bags right there on the porch - nobody is going to steal your shit.

This is Hawkins.

The worse thing that’s ever happened here is when Sarah Gillespie’s mom had that owl fly into her hair in 5th grade.

As your feet bring you around the corner of Cornwallis, you see the big house at the end of the street is just as dark as your own.

There isn’t a line of cars down the block or kids playing with sparklers or running around with flashlights for night games. There’s no adults all boozed up and laughing around a bonfire, waiting for fireworks. No grill smoke in the air or splashes from the pool in the backyard.

Just one woman, mumbling to herself in a matching skirt and blouse as she yanks a large trunk down from the brick step to the curved walkway.

“See how you like it when I’m not here to buy the groceries, or take your car in for its wash, or pour your whiskey and tell you dinner’s ready you lying, cheating, son of-oh!”

Vivian Harrington’s hand jumps to her chest as she turns to see you next to her car. A mess of your old best friend’s hair and eyes and a few of the same freckles as she blinks at you for a few seconds and then gasps your name and envelopes you in a surprising hug.

Not so surprising though, when you smell brandy on her red lips as she takes the smallest of steps back and asks, “What on earth are you doing here sweetie?”

“I…” It’s a shock to hear her voice after so long, shocked that she’s still Mrs. Harrington, though a slightly more tipsy one, but maybe that was just naivety shielding you from that before, “I was looking for my parents. You didn’t have your party for the fourth?”

“Gosh,” she says, grunting again as she bends to pick up her luggage, offering you a charming smile when you pick it up easily for her. She wipes her brow before resting her hands on her hips to watch you with the next two matching bags. “Honey, I think they might still be at the carnival? Larry threw a whole big thing this year. And we haven’t had one of those parties in…four years? Five? Whenever…John,” she grits out his name before continuing, with a smile you can hear her teeth grinding in, “Started going to the office in Chicago more.”

She slams the trunk down as if it’s an axe and the closure a head.

A shiver drips down your back as she glares at the house.

“Chicago?”

“So he tells me,” she waves a hand and sniffles, dramatically, scrunching her nose as her forehead furrows in a way that you’re sure she’ll be pulling and tugging at in a mirror and fretting over later. “Anyways, that’s where John is and I,” she huffs as her heels sink in to the gravel over their driveway before she tugs open the driver’s door, “I will be in Michigan. At my sister’s house on the lake for the rest of the Summer.”

She makes a little oof noise as she misjudges the seat distance from her butt, righting herself and patting at her hair.

“Mrs. Harrington, are you…” you trail off, unsure if it’s really your place to ask her if she should be driving. Especially when she eyes you cooly and her tone is icy.

“Am I, what, dear?”

Your mouth clamps closed as your clammy fingers flex at your sides before they close the door for her.

“Um, before you go,” you force your best smile and polite tone, “Would you happen to know where Steve is?”

Her fingers turn the key and the car rumbles to life loudly as she squints her emerald eyes at the windshield.

“Work? Could be still at work I suppose probably not at this hour…maybe a date? The carnival perhaps? I never know anymore with him, he’s very…moody, lately.”

“Moody?” You ask, your smile turning into a frown.

“God, yes,” she moans and leans out the open car window, forehead in her palm as she stage whispers to you, like she’s told this secret to everyone, “Just sits out by that pool but never swims in it anymore. Ever since that Wheeler girl broke up with him. It’s honestly been a terrible time trying to fix it all. I mean, I’m well respected, as you know, but there’s only so much I can say and do, you understand?”

“Su…sure,” you nod along like you know what she’s talking about and she reaches out and grabs your hand and gives it a squeeze.

“You’re welcome to wait here for him if you like, I’m sure he’ll not be too long and he can give you a ride to look for your parents? I would, but…”

When she trails off and smiles at you, you take a step away from her car, message clear.

“Thank you, Mrs. Harrington, drive-“ She’s already halfway down the driveway, fingers waggling out the open window as you finish, “Safely,” with a wince of your shoulders as she nearly takes out the mailbox.

Your shoulders fall as the taillights burn red, then disappear and the quiet night returns. A pricey perfume lingers in the air and floats on the warm Summer breeze. An owl hoots as you sit on the brick doorstep and lean your head against the post, wondering what in the world you’re going to say to him.

Originally, you thought you’d have so much more time to prepare. Thought on the bus ride from New York to Chicago you’d think of something. When you didn’t, you were sure from Chicago to home you would. And even then, you were supposed to be home - supposed to see your parents, sleep in your childhood room and wake up to pancakes with a smiley face made out of bacon and whipped cream before attempting to go find Steve.

And why hadn’t your parents told you about the carnival? They were expecting you, shouldn’t they have been home? Though your dad can’t pass up a corndog, so maybe they just lost track of time. It’ll be fine. Once Steve is home, you’ll…

“You’ll what?” Question muttered under your breath as your head falls into your palms, elbows resting on your bent knees. “Hey Steve, remember me? No? Cool, can I have a ride home?”

A frustrated laugh and groan slip past your lips as you knock your head against your knees and fight off the urge to scream. You know it’s not reasonable to think he wouldn’t remember you at all, his mother did and who knows how much she’d had to drink.

But you know it’ll be weird. Know you’re both very different people than the ones who saw each other last. Know you’ve had lives outside of one another for a very long time.

You’ve gone to school and graduated. Had jobs. Dated, and thensome, multiple people in the years it’s been. He probably made new friends. Has a social life you don’t fit in to anymore - that was already becoming clear the last time you were here.

The words ‘that Wheeler girl’ and ‘moody’ make your teeth scrape against your bottom lip, cheek to your knee as your back rests against the post and you keep your eyes on the end of the driveway, waiting.

The sound of loud, dragging footsteps makes your eyes pinch closed harder before they start to flutter open. Your mouth is dry and your back and neck may be permanently curved from the crouched position you had been sitting in for -

Every bone in your body protests in the snap of you standing upright, blinking at the dark blue sky just starting to turn lighter, pale pink brushed across the top of the trees. The sound of birds chirping barely breaking through the cotton in your ears until you hear a low, deep laugh that pulls your attention to the end of the driveway.

A boy who looks familiar and yet not at all is walking up his driveway. Longer than you’ve ever seen it brown locks all pushed back in a futile attempt as strands fall over his forehead when he smiles at -

“Oh fuck,” you whisper to yourself and blink your eyes closed then open as your tongue wets your lip and you wonder how the hell you’re going to explain just hanging out at his doorstep as he’s showing up with a girl after being gone all night long and -

Your stomach clenches at the sound of his voice, clearer as he gets halfway up the drive.

“That asshole better have my car in the driveway by tomorrow, is all I’m saying, okay?”

Steve’s got his arm slung around the girl’s shoulders, her’s around his waist as they walk slowly, like they need help themselves, but they’re supporting the others weight too. She stifles a yawn with a free hand before speaking.

“I just think you need to sort out your priorities and also…”

The girl’s voice is a little raspy, tinged with sarcasm and sleep as she trails off when she looks up and spots you.

Steve looks at her, the same furrowed lines his mom had hours ago forming on his forehead and the corners of his mouth curved down in a frown when his gaze leaves her eyes to follow their line to you.

He stands up straighter, his arm lingers against her but then falls limply at his side as he takes a step towards you. He scuffs his heels over the loose gravel of the walk and blinks at you.

Steve’s entire body is one big bruise from what you can see, the worst of it all being one of his eyes swollen and dark purple, his lip split fairly fresh from the way the red on his chin and cheek are so stark against his tan skin. His hands go to the top of his head, all of his knuckles broken, blue and purple or dried maroon and the gesture makes his shirt that’s covered in something that looks like a foul mixture of puke, blood, and something slimy lift, exposing the faintest line of skin and dark hair that disappears into his very short shorts.

It all makes your stomach burn and your chest feel so tight when he swallows and he just keeps staring at you. Part of you wants to find whoever did this and strangle them with your bare hands and the other part of you is…well you don’t know what it is except confusing, and all you can think to say is:

“What are you wearing?”

The girl’s laugh barks out of her in one short burst before her hands slap over her mouth. Until she’s letting them drop and saying, “Steve? Steve!” As he takes off in a run.

His shoulder slams into the gate of his backyard as you and the girl run after him, only skidding to a stop on his back patio as he falls directly into his pool, fully clothed.

Turquoise water illuminated by the underwater lights splashes up and out over the lips of the pool as his body sinks to the bottom. A dark blue Adidas hits the bottom and pushes him back up forcefully, his body shaking as he gasps loudly when his head breaks the surface of the water.

“Fuck! Shit! Oh my god this hurts!”

“Yeah no shit, Harrington! You’re covered in cuts and you just dived into chlorine!” The girl throws her hands up into the air.

Steve’s hands push him up and out of the pool so he can roll out of it ungracefully. He lays with his back against the cement, chest heaving while he keeps his eyes closed.

When he opens them again, he looks at you, then stands with difficulty it seems. Water drips off of his outfit, it curls his hair behind his ears, and pools in his cupid’s bow.

He swipes at his eyes, wincing, and blinks at you but talks to the other girl, “Rob-Robin,” he shivers through the words, teeth clicking together, “You see her too, right? I’m not…this isn’t like a weird dream, right?”

The girl, Robin, looks at you, then Steve, “Yeah, I see her. Who’s…her?”

“I’m-“ Your voice breaks when he gasps out your name in a barely choked back sob.

He falls forward, head landing heavily on your shoulder as his body curls into yours, while shaking fingers grip your shirt at your hips and he just sobs. Cool pool water and his warm breath compete to make you shiver as you run a hand over his spine.

Your eyes widen as they stare over his shoulder at the girl who’s watching him with as much worry as you feel. It’s a whisper against his temple, and it’s all you can think to say, “Hey, stranger.”

His sob rattles your chest as he holds you tighter, like he has no intention of letting you go.

Steve’s staring at you.

And, to be fair, you guess he doesn’t really have anywhere else to look and you’re staring at him too.

“Take a picture,” you soak another piece of cotton with alcohol as you whisper, “It’ll last longer.”

“Sorry,” he clears his throat as he looks down at the floor then immediately back up into your eyes. His one good eye bounces between yours before his tongue pokes at the cut that just won’t quit on his lip as his adam’s apple bobs and he says, “You shouldn’t have come back.”

The words make you flinch, just barely, but enough for the cotton next to his eyebrow to nudge against his skin just a little too hard.

“Shit,” he hisses, grabbing the hem of your shirt and tugging while his lips pout, and he whines, “That’s not what I meant. Don’t attack me.”

Your eyes roll as your fingers go back to tenderly swiping over him, being more gentle with him than you would an egg you don’t want to crack just yet. Each second you slowly patch him up a new discovery about the boy you don’t really know anymore reveals itself in forms of facial hair, freckles you’ve never seen, something that smells an awful lot like your mom’s hairspray, and eyes that haven’t changed one bit aside from almost swallowing his pupils whole because they’re so dilated.

“Glad to see you’re still a dramatic baby,” your voice is as soft as the touch of your fingers against his jaw. Your pulse quickens when he leans his weight into the hold more, his eyelashes fluttering while you turn his eyebrow into the light. “Maybe if you sat still and kept your mouth shut for more than two seconds I could finish this.”

“I like her,” Robin’s voice rises with the steam from behind the closed white shower curtain directly across from the counter Steve is leaning against. Her words breaking up the quiet ‘Never-Ending Story’ theme she had previously been humming.

Not for the first time tonight you wonder, a) if Steve didn’t have something to lean against, would he collapse, and b) how long Robin and Steve have been dating.

You still aren’t sure what is going on. Why they are so beat up. Why Robin didn’t want to shower alone or why the silence seemed to make Steve crazy until his shoulders relaxed when you suggested turning the stereo in his room on. The voices and music of Journey faintly coming from the other room as Robin threw clothes over the shower curtain and Steve spread his legs for you to stand between while he dripped pool water all over the white tiles. All mumbled apologies as knees and thighs bumped, as his hand squeezed at you whenever you started on a new injury.

Like now, as some sort of healing ointment rolls over his brow and his fingers dig into your hip. Your murmured sorry lost as he frowns at the air and sarcastically asks, “Oh do you? Nobody asked for a comment from the peanut gala Buckley.”

“Gallery,” Robin and you say together.

Steve’s frown turns more pout and you sigh when his lip starts bleeding again. He holds an arm over his stomach, fingers twitching at his ribs when you carefully place a bandage over his brow.

“I’m pretty sure it’s gala.”

Your thumb gently swipes over his lip with a towel, his gasp warm against your nose as you lean in to inspect it.

“Dingus,” Robin’s sigh more dramatic than his, “Please, I have to hear, why you’re so certain it’s gala. Peanut gala? Why would peanuts be going to a gala?”

“Oh,” he speaks around you trying to get his lip to stop bleeding, a useless attempt since he won’t stop moving, “And gallery makes so much more sense? At least mine gives Mr. Peanut a reason to wear his top hat and coat and eyeglass thingy.”

“Monocle,” you offer quietly, taking his hand from your elbow and assessing the damage to his knuckles. “And I don’t think peanut gallery is about Mr. Peanut at all.”

Steve’s hand pulls out of your hold, his fingers curl under your jaw and nudge it up, so you’ll look at him. He shakes his head no. “You shouldn’t have come back. Why’d you come back? Why are you here?”

Your pulse races, far too close to his fingers, and you wonder if he can feel it. Wonder if he can see it in your eyes how scared you are and how brave you’re trying to be.

“Why shouldn’t I be here?”

He seems to think you thought he meant here, at his home, and not Hawkins, because his jaw clenches as his thumb taps at your chin and you wonder if he even realizes he’s still holding your face.

“I didn’t say you shouldn’t be here. I asked why you’re here. Because,” he laughs, he shakes his head like he can’t really believe it, “I’m having a hard time wrapping my head around it. And sure, I’m not the smartest guy around and I took some pretty hard hits tonight, but even I know that it’s weird for a girl, one who I haven’t spoken to in over three years, to have been here, sitting at my doorstep, waiting for me, and is now patching me up like…like…”

“Yeah?” Your voice cracks as tears threaten to spill over your lash line. Body too hot as steam from the shower clings to your skin and anger starts to boil over inside of you. “Well I’m having a hard time wrapping my head around why that boy who doesn’t understand why the girl, one who he used to call his best friend until he stopped calling her and never once came to visit her, started sobbing when he saw her and is covered in injuries he won’t explain!”

“I’m sorry,” Steve laughs, and stands up, toe to toe with you as he looks down his nose and huffs a breath out of it, hand letting go of your face to grab your shoulders and shake, “But when he stopped calling her? And yeah, I didn’t visit! Because you stopped visiting, because-“

“I only stopped calling because it was embarrassing!” You shout at him, shoving his chest and watching his face twist in pain when you do.

Steve gasps and you swipe the tears falling down your cheeks away as you both glare at each other. He rubs his hand over his chest and side with a grimace.

“Take off your shirt.”

He shakes his head no.

“Take off your shirt right now Harrington or I swear to god I’ll-“

“You’ll what!?” He pouts at you.

Your fingers tug at the hemline of his shirt, yanking at it as you grumble, “Still so fucking stubborn, I can’t stand you-“

He swats at your hands and grumbles right back, “I can’t stand you…”

His name is gasped out of you as you get his shirt up and over his ribs. He gives up, arms falling limply at his sides as you continue to pull at the shirt until it’s around his neck. He stares at you, both of you not saying a word but understanding as he slowly raises his arms with a wince and you pull the fabric carefully over his head.

It falls at your feet as tears fill your eyes, your fingers brush over purple and red splotched and angry skin. Steve flinches as your fingers glide over his collarbone, hands instinctively going to your hips again and squeezing. Goosebumps rise to the surface of his skin as your tears fall down your cheeks once more.

“Hey,” he whispers, he pulls you into his chest, one that you can’t believe is covered in dark hair. Arms that ripple with muscles you’ve never seen circle around your waist as he mumbles into your hairline, “I’m okay. I’m fine.”

Your nose presses to his neck, dragging against his skin as you shake your head no and pull away from him.

“You tell me who did this right now.”

Steve stares at you and then he runs his hands through his hair and closes his eyes.

A throat is cleared and you jump, hand over your eyes as Robin’s voice cracks behind the curtain, “Sorry, didn’t really know when to break that up, but I’m getting pretty cold in here…”

Neither of you had heard the water turn off, or noticed the mirror was growing far less foggy during your screaming match. Steve’s cheek blossom pink as he throws a towel over the curtain.

Your arms cross over your chest as Steve’s do the same while she pulls the shower curtain back.

Robin smiles shyly at you and then looks at Steve.

“You got cocoa?”

His brows furrow together and he looks at her like she’s crazy when he asks, “What?”

“Hot cocoa,” she clarifies, holding the towel to her chest and then walking into his bedroom.

She starts pulling open drawers until she finds what she’s looking for. When you both just stare at her, she whistles and turns her fingers for you to spin.

Steve rolls his eyes but does as she asks and you do the same. A towel drops and clothes slip over skin while the radio plays quietly.

“Conversations like this are always easier with cocoa, I think,” she says, much closer now and you turn to find her digging around in his drawers for a comb, a sweatshirt and shorts on.

Steve hands her one as he asks, “Conversations like this?”

Robin shrugs her shoulders, looking at you in the mirror as she detangles wet hair easily and mumbles, “Understand why you got your nickname now. Top tier products, dingus. I approve.”

He rolls his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose, “Robin. Focus.”

“Right, well she,” Robin nods her head back towards you, “Wants to know about all of this,” she gestures to all of Steve’s face and bruised body with a hand. “Christ, you’re hairy. And after tonight, I think I deserve to be filled in on quite a bit, don’t you? So. Cocoa? Marshmallows?”

The way Robin raises her eyebrows at Steve and doesn’t leave much room for arguing has you rolling your shoulders back and asking him, “Your mom still keep that fancy cinnamon kind on the top shelf in the back of the pantry?”

Steve’s a terrible story-teller.

He paces while he talks, he gestures with his hands and leaves sentences hanging in the air as he waits for you to fill in gaps he doesn’t quite remember or know all the details of himself. He asks you to give him a second when he sips his own cocoa and closes his eyes trying to remember things, rubbing at his Hawkins Phy Ed sweatshirt while he thinks. Steve bounces around in a non-linear, confusing timeline order that has you and Robin asking question after question and him clenching his jaw and telling you that, “He’s getting there, alright?”

And none of it makes any sense. None of it.

Not Will Byers going missing but not missing. Not the spray paint on the theater and Nancy Wheeler sleeping but not sleeping with Jonathan Byers. Not the dinner with Barb’s parents and oh yeah his party with the pool and Nancy and Barb going missing afterwards. Not the supernatural dogs that are actually lizards. Not the gray fleshy human not human that he hit with a baseball bat full of nails while Jonathan and Nancy set it on fire in a bear trap and the Christmas lights talked to Joyce Byers. Not the world that’s somehow underneath you but not anymore because the gate, whatever the fuck that is, is closed. Not the girl with superpowers who doesn’t have superpowers anymore though, you guess.

Because that’s what Steve thinks, now, caught up to tonight and the few days leading up to it. He’s just finished telling you about the creature, the giant thing made out of people that destroyed the mall and caused the so called “fire” the National Guard was called in for.

Your name is barely heard through the ringing in your ears as you frantically search his entryway for keys.

His hand shakes your shoulder, hard, and you stop, blinking tears away as he asks you, “What are you doing?”

“Keys,” you gasp, fingers rubbing at your eyes, “I need your car keys. I need to go home, I-“

Steve shakes his head, “I don’t have my car. They had to keep it to sweep it for bugs and explosives and-“

Your head shakes as you rip your shoulder from his hold and yank his front door open. Heartbeat thudding in your ears in time with the soles of your sneakers against the pavement as you run down his driveway.

Sprinklers tick on lawns and mowers wave to you as you run down the street. The town of Hawkins oblivious to what’s been happening underneath them, around them, oblivious that their loved ones could be gone, could be in danger.

Your stomach heaves at the thought, anger with yourself fueling your sprinting legs to go even faster. How could you stay at Steve’s so long? Why’d you go there in the first place? What if-

Your feet only slow when you reach your house.

The driveway still sits empty.

Your bags still rest on the porch.

A sob rips out of you as you run around to the back of the house and search the ground. A large rock hits your fingers, and you don’t think twice about grabbing it and throwing it at your back door.

Your hand pushes through the shards of glass as you unlock the door and push it open.

Steve finds you on the ground, clutching your stomach and screaming, chemical bottles open and drained on the tiles around you, bags of your mother’s gardening soil ripped open on the table and his stomach heaves.

He pulls you into his chest and tries to get you stop, pressing his nose to your cheek and rocking you as he pleads, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, you have to stop. You have to stop screaming. Please be quiet, don’t-“

Your hands shove at his chest as you scramble over your bags and boxes that had been shipped a week prior, left in the entryway unopened.

“Get away from me,” you sob, rushing to the stairs as you yell, frantic, “Mom! Dad!”

Photos of you and them stare back at you each skipped step up the staircase as you turn on the lights with shaking fingers and beg the universe for this to be some sick and twisted nightmare. When you push open their bedroom door and find the bed unslept in Steve says your name softly, behind your shoulder.

Your hands shove at him when you turn to face him, smacking at his chest and hoping it hurts as you sob, “Why didn’t you check on them! Why didn’t you call me!”

Steve’s eyes fill with tears, “I wasn’t allowed to tell anyone! I shouldn’t have even told you! I could get in a lot of trouble, I could-“

“We have to call the police, we have to call-“

Steve shakes your shoulders, begging you to listen to him. “We can’t. Hopper knew. He’s dead. There’s nobody else to tell. The government already knows. It is the government.”

“Why’d you stop writing to me! Why didn’t you come with them to visit! Why didn’t you…you…” Your hands shove at him harder, tears and snot all over your face as your fight drains out of you. Anger turns to grief turns to hatred turns to hopelessness in seconds within you, not even knowing what to be the most upset about anymore.

“You stopped coming back,” Steve chokes out, grabbing your hands and pulling you towards him slowly. “Because every time I ran into your dad at the store and he asked me if I wanted to come over for dinner I knew I had to say no because I’d feel like a loser. Coming over here and pretending I was a part of your family still, knowing you didn’t want that anymore. Would have to pretend like the pictures of you and hearing about how much better your life was in New York wasn’t killing me because you didn’t need me or Hawkins anymore, okay?”

He falls to the ground with you in his arms as you sob, clutching his shirt in your fingers and pressing your screams to his chest so they’re muffled.

“I’m sorry,” he sniffles into your hairline as his arms squeeze around you tighter and he presses his cheek to the top of your head. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

The key to your dad’s Bronco swings loosely from your fingers as you hop up the step to the door and tap your knuckles against it.

When he doesn’t answer, you let yourself in and close the door softly behind you as you glance up the stairs.

Music plays loudly from the cracked door of his bedroom and when you hear his voice singing along, you lift the camera from around your neck and start fiddling with the settings, pulling the shutter back as you climb the staircase quietly.

As you peek through the ajar door, you find Steve in front of his mirror, twirling a can of Farrah Fawcett spray in the air while his other hand runs through damp, not wet, hair, before he catches the can in the air and sprays twice.

Then, he sings directly into the can and you snap a picture of it.

He spins at the sound of your laugh and frowns at the held aloft camera in his face.

“Please,” you smile timidly at him as your shoulder rests against the doorframe and the toe of your sneaker nudges the door open wider. “Don’t stop the performance on my account.”

Steve quickly presses the power button on his stereo and picks up a vest from his desk chair. His cream colored shoulders slip into the maroon vest and your lips twitch at the coincidence of the song and outfit he’s chosen today.

“They don’t knock in New York?” He asks, pulling on a pair of Nikes. Lacing them up and avoiding your gaze as he looks around the room, eyes landing on a sheet of paper and nodding his head, like he’s reminding himself of its location.

“Oh they do,” you shrug your shoulders, “ S’why I left.”

“Ha-ha,” he bites his cheek when he stands, hands finding a home on his hips, “So what’s up? Why are you here?”

Something in your chest tightens at the question, especially when he grabs the sheet of paper and looks at you with a smile that doesn’t quite meet his eyes and adds, “Don’t you have work?”

Your head shakes no, as you beg yourself to say something, anything, to let him know how sorry you are. To let him know even an ounce of how you’ve been feeling lately. But nothing seems right and it’s selfish to want to have this conversation right now, so you just say, “I start on Monday. Wanted to come say good luck on the interview today.”

He sighs, cheeks and tips of his ears pink as he walks past you out of his room and down the stairs. “Thanks.”

“Family Video, right?” Your tone forced into something light and pleasant as you follow him. “Sounds like a good gig.”

Steve snorts as he grabs his car keys from the table. “Yeah, okay.”

He holds his front door open for you as he walks out it and you follow with a confused, “You don’t think so?”

“No, I do,” he locks the door behind him, shoulders staying up at his ears even after the shrug of them is over, “I just don’t think you, the newest photo journalist and first female one at The Hawkins Post, actually thinks being a clerk at Family fucking Video is a good gig.”

“Well, I do, and that’s all I wanted to say so…” your sweating fingers fiddle with the key as you try to catch his gaze and smile at him, deciding that everything you actually wanted to say isn’t worth it, not when you’re not even sure he’ll want to listen to you. “Good luck, Harrington.”

Your back turns to him as your hand waves pathetically when you start down to his mailbox and Robin Buckley bikes up his driveway.

She smiles at you and hops off her bike, “Hey! How are you?”

“I’m good, good…” your tongue licks over your bottom lip as you squint from the sun at her friendly smile, shielding your eyes with your hand, “Good luck on the interview, today.”

“Thanks!” She turns to Steve behind you, “Ready, Dingus?”

He must nod or something because she waves at you and starts guiding her bike up the rest of the driveway.

When you hop into your dad’s car and turn the key in the ignition, the cassette you’d been playing starts blaring loudly. Your fingers curl around the steering wheel as you inhale then exhale, trying to find the courage to face another day without them and without the Steve you desperately needed, but weren’t even sure existed anymore.

Things weren’t the way they had been with you two, maybe they wouldn’t ever be that way again.

Your head smacks the roof of the car when Steve says your name at your open window, breathlessly.

He winces as your hand rubs at your temple and the other turns the stereo down.

“Sorry, but do you…” he swallows and crosses his arms, uncrosses them and shoves his hands in his front pockets and rocks back on his heels.

“Do I…?” You offer, heart thudding in your chest when Steve looks up from where his sneaker kicks at the gravel and smiles at you.

“Would you um, if I get this job, I’ll get free rentals, and I was just thinking that maybe we could, if you wanted to, have a movie night this Friday? Grab a pizza or something and…talk?”

“Yeah,” you clear your throat and sniffle, blinking your eyes about a billion times and telling yourself to just wait until he’s gone to start crying. “Yeah, I’d really like that.”

“Cool,” he smiles around the word. A real one. One that meets his eyes.

“Cool,” you echo with your own smile.

Steve taps the roof of the Bronco twice and it makes something in your chest tighten and melt at the same time. He hooks a thumb over his shoulder and starts walking backwards, “Well I should…”

“Right, yeah, good luck,” you tell him again, yelling it out the open window.

Steve smiles at you once more and then jogs up to his car, whistling along to the song playing out of your car. Robin stands at the door on the passenger side of his BMW, pretending not to watch but blatantly watching while Steve says something you can’t hear. His arms held out in a gesture that seems to say, ‘what?’ ,before he’s clapping and motioning for her to get in the car. Even from this distance you can see her eyes roll.

Your smile is barely hidden, bottom lip squished between your teeth.

Maybe things not being like they were between you two will be a good thing.

Change is inevitable, and time will keep ticking by whether you’re ready for it to or not.

#superbly subpar's writing #STB AU #Simply The Best AU #steve harrington #spiderman!steve harrington #spiderman!steve #spider man steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #stranger things fanfic #steve harrington series #steve harrington fic

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orangeaurora · 5 months ago

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Steve Harrington | Spidey 🕷️

Summary: You get stuck with Steve Harrington as your lab partner in your college biology class but he never seems to show up to class or make time for important homework assignments.

Imma call this aaaaa “people who love to bicker but actually love each other” fic because reader and Steve aren’t mean enough to each other to be considered enemies. :p ALSO! I will GLADLY write a part 2 of this so lemme know 🥰

Author’s note: I haven’t written anything in so long but I love this idea and had to write it myself. I hope you enjoy. 🧡

Warnings: getting cat called, and slightly grabbed (a man grabs your wrist hard but that’s as far as it goes), slight angst, cussing, uhhhh I think that’s it??

Word count: 3.9k

You sat in the cool air of your dorm room, focused on the biology homework in front of you as your roommate Robin was quickly flipping through channels on the TV to find something to watch. “-and Spider-Man!”, you hear quickly before the channel is changed again and your eyes are adverted to Robin. “Hey! Go back!” You say excitingly as Robin shrugs and goes back a few channels. “Okay, stop!” Your eyes light up as J. Jonah Jameson is going on another rampage about the city’s new hero.

“What… this?? I hate this guy.” You shake your head and laugh. “No, not the news guy! Spider-Man!” Robin rolls her eyes and smiles slightly, like she knows something that you don’t. “Ew. You know, there could be a complete weirdo underneath that mask and you wouldn’t even know it.” You shrug and go back to doing your homework. “Doesn’t matter to me.”

“Oh suuuure…” Robin says under her breath. “Huh?” You say with your eyebrows furrowed not actually sure of what Robin had said. “What? Oh, nothing!” She smiles and quickly fills her mouth with a handful of popcorn so she can’t talk anymore.

A few hours later Robin had left the dorm room to go take a shower and you hear a quick, melodic knock on the door. You sigh and stand up from the comfy spot in your bed and shuffle yourself to the door. As you approach the door you hear the sound of small items hitting the floor, followed by a mumbled, “oh, shit, fuck… SHIT!” You swing the door open to reveal Steve Harrington dropping a bunch of boxed candy and bags of popcorn on the floor. His fit frame bent down, picking up everything quickly. “Sorry I’m late, Robin, I got caught up with Spi- OH!” He jumps slightly before finally gathering himself and looks up at you, his smile dropping. “It’s you.” He stands up straight and shrugs, and scoots past you into your dorm room.

“Yeah, come right on in!” You say with a scoff as Steve lays all his stuff on Robin’s bed. “Hm… finally here to do our biology lab, Harrington?” He scoffs and starts pulling out a bunch of movies from his backpack. “Hell no. It’s horror movie night for Robin and I.” His back stays turned away from you as he talks, your eyes burning into the back of his head the whole time. Your arms cross over your chest as you lean your back against your bed. “Soooo, lemme get this straight, you don’t show up for class, you never show up to our study sessions, and now you can’t even help with the lab that YOUR name is gonna be on… even if you didn’t do any of it?” He shrugs and finally turns around to look at you. “Yeah, sounds about right.” He takes a step towards you. “Look, I’m sorry. I’ll figure out how to be included in the lab somehow, okay?” Your eyes narrow at him as you process what he’s saying.

“No you won’t.” You say flatly. Steve’s eyebrows furrow at you, his eyes looking a little bit shocked. “Wh-what do you mean?” You roll your eyes again before grabbing some of your stuff and a blanket. “You say that every homework assignment. I’m tired of picking up the slack for you.” You slug your backpack over your shoulder before walking towards the door. “It’s almost midnight! Where are you going?!” Steve says as he slightly raises his voice, annoyed with you. “To finish our lab, ya know? The one that’s due in…8 hours.” You look at a fake watch on your wrist before opening the door, revealing Robin only a few feet away from your dorm room. “Hey, idiot, where are you going?” Robin says with a smile as you walk right past her. “Enjoy your movie night.” You say to both of them as you make your way to the library.

As you reach the library, you couldn’t help but feel as if there were eyes on you the whole way there. It was a Sunday night on a college campus, lots of kids were finally returning to their dorms after a weekend of partying, but there was no reason to feel unsafe. You shake the feeling before finally finding a study room to finish your lab in peace. Thankfully you get super focused, not allowing your mind to wonder about the interaction you had just had with Steve or about the anxious feeling you had felt only a moment before. Only an hour later, you finished your assignment and smiled. Though, as you look at the top of the page where your name was written in nice, neat handwriting, you freeze for a second, tapping your pencil on the table as you think before sighing, and quickly writing, “Steve Harrington”, right next to yours.

You quickly close your notebook before you can change your mind and shove it into your backpack. The anxious feeling suddenly comes back as you realize you’re the only one in the library. You shake your head and quickly grab your things and start to make your way back to your dorm. Before you can make it to your dorm building you hear a whistle and freeze. “Hey, pretty thing!” Someone yells out and you continue walking. “Oh, come on, I just want to talk!” The voice is getting closer and closer to you as your feet start to move as fast as they can. Unfortunately, you weren’t walking fast enough as there is now a very drunk college boy walking parallel with you. “What? A guy can’t compliment a girl anymore?” He takes a slug of his drink before turning towards you. “Hm, thanks but I’m not interested. Have a good night.” He scoffs. “Come on! It won’t hurt to give me the time of day.” “It might…” you mumble under your breath before feeling a tight grip on your wrist. “What did you say?” He says between gritted teeth. “N-nothing!” Your voice gets louder but before he can respond, another voice is heard from above.

“Now is that any way to treat a lady?” Both you and the man, who’s grip on you loosens, look above you to reveal a figure perched up on a light post. The voice is sarcastic but playful as he shoots his hand out and releases a silk like substance from his hand, throwing the man away from you onto the ground. You stay frozen in your place, not sure if it’s out of fear or confusion. “Wha-?” You can’t even finish your sentence as the perched figure stands and jumps down besides you, your eyes going wide. “S-spider-man?” Your eyes light up as a smile appears on your face.

“Oh! Seems I have a fan?” The tone of the masked man is fun yet comforting, and it reminds you of honey. “Don’t get too close.” He says with a laugh as he walks towards the drunk boy who is still plastered on the ground. The masked man makes his way to the boy and webs him to the floor before crouching next to him. “Now, let’s use our big boy words and tell the girl you’re sorry? Okay?” The boy quickly nods before shaking and looking over at you. “S-sorry.” He looks over at Spider-Man, who’s shaking his head at him. “Hm… one more time. Like you mean it.”

“I’m really sorry, ma’am.” The boy looks back at Spider-Man for approval. “Much better.” Spider-man pats him on the shoulder before standing up, “Enjoy your time outside tonight!” He says as he looks down at the boy still webbed to the ground before turning his attention to you.

“Do me a favor, princess?” You nod your head, mouth slightly agape as you stand in shock still. “Go get to your dorm safely.” He points behind you as he walks backwards, never letting his back turn from you until you start walking away. You clutch your books to your chest before quickly turning around again to see if he is still there. Your heart is beating so fast that you can feel it in your throat, but you still manage to yell a clear, “Spider-Man?” In his direction. He turns back around and looks at you, walking backwards again.

“Thank you…” you say with a small smile. “Anything for you.” He yells back before swinging into the shadows. As soon as you turn around to walk into your building, you bite your lip and smile. “Oh Robin’s gonna love this.” You mumble underneath your breath.

As soon as you open the door to your dorm room, you feel an anxious energy flood over you. Your smile fades as you look over at Robin pacing back and forth and chewing on her nails. As she makes eye contact with you, her eyes light up. “Oh my god, you’re okay! I mean…” she puts her hair behind her ear. “Of course you’re okay, why wouldn’t you be okay? You were just at the library. At the library… in the dark! And I’m really scared of the dark so… in reality I’m just projecting my own fears!! I’m just being silly.” Robin laughs nervously as she sits on her bed. Staring at you with an awkward smile.

“Ooookay.” You say with a small laugh as you sit on your bed that’s across from her. Your smile grows bigger as you two sit in silence. “Oh, god, what??” Robin says with an amused but also grossed out tone. “IsawSpider-Mantonight.” You say under your breath super quickly. Robin squints her eyes at you. “I can’t hear a word you’re saying.” She says as she leans her head in closer to you. “Spider-Man. I just saw him… right now. He… he talked to me, Robin.” Your voice grows louder and louder as you speak, excitement spilling from your body.

Robin rolls her eyes as she lays back into her bed, slamming her back into the mattress. “Oh Jesus Christ, that’s what’s got you all riled up?” If only you could see the smirk on her face. “Robin, he saved me from this super creepy guy… and then called me princess.” Robin sits up from her parallel position and looks at you. “Ew.” She frowns.

Now it was your turn to roll your own eyes as you laugh and throw one of your pillows at her. “Whatever.” She laughs now too and throws one of her pillows back. “I’m happy for you, idiot.” She smiles as she lays down and pulls her blanket over her body. “Now go to bed and dream about your little spider boy.” She giggles and lays her head on her pillow, you mirroring her actions. “Oh I plan on it.” You mumble and fall into a deep sleep, every dream including the masked man who saved you tonight.

When you wake up in the morning, you quickly check your phone to see what time it is, and it immediately puts you into a panic. “Shit!” You say as you throw your blanket off of your body and pick up a pair of dirty jeans off of the floor and tug them up your legs. “What… are… you doing?” Robin grumbles as she covers her face with her pillow. “My stupid lab is due today and class starts in like…10 minutes.” You scoff as you pull a t-shirt over your head. “And lord knows Steve isn’t gonna show up and present anything so if I’m late that means both of us are going to get zeros.” Robin groans as she turns over in her bed. “Good luck.” She says as she throws a thumbs up over at you. “Mmhmm… thanks, R.” You quickly run your fingers through your hair as you shrug with approval and grab all your things, making your way quickly out of your dorm and to your class.

You had never walked faster to a class in your life. Your feet were moving a million miles a minute as you approached your classroom. That is until you hear a voice from beside you. “You look like you’re in a rush.” You stop in your tracks as you look at the boy and scoff. “Wow, decided to show up today, huh?” You look up at him, Steve. He shrugs and puts his hands in his pockets. “Decided I had enough time for you today I guess.” Your eyes squint at him for only a moment before you scoff. “Okay, Harrington.”

You shake your head as you quickly dig through your backpack and pull out the notebook that had your lab written in it, slapping it in Steve’s hands. “Review that as we walk.” You say as your feet start moving towards your classroom again. “You have a lot to catch up on. Come on, looks like we are both in a rush.”

Steve quickly follows behind you as he looks down at the lab in his hands, a smile forming on his face. “You know you really don’t have to give me credit for any of this… you shouldn’t.�� You shrug as you look up at him. “You’re smart, Steve. I know you are. You just… are occupied. It’s okay. I’ll cover for you.” You smile up at him as he looks down at you with a glimmer in his eyes, the sun hitting off of the rim of his glasses perfectly.

“We could make a deal? I’ll do the next lab by myself. I promise.” You can’t help but laugh at Steve’s words as you shake your head. “Yeahhh not holding you to that promise, Harrington. Though, I do appreciate the offer.” Steve stops walking for a second, softly grabbing your wrist. “No, I’m serious, please, let me make it up to you.” Your eyebrows furrow as your eyes meet his, seriously considering his offer. “Fine. Pinky promise me, Steve Harrington.” Steve rolls his eyes as he holds out his pinky. A sweet smile on his face as a curl falls down into his face. “Pinky promise.” He slightly whispers as you two lock fingers. As your fingers lock and your eyes meet one another’s, you feel a flutter in your chest. It feels like time is frozen until you both get knocked out of whatever trance you’re in with each other when Steve looks down at his watch that’s on the hand that is currently interlocked with yours. “Okay but seriously we should probably get to class.” You release your hand from his as you nod quickly. “Mhmm, yeah. Class.”

As you and Steve are waiting for your turn to present, you can see Steve getting antsy. His leg shakes up and down as he chews on his thumb nail, his eyes staying in one place, his face showing that though his body is in the classroom, his mind is not. “Hey…” you whisper over at him. “Relax. We’re gonna do fine.” Steve looks at you confused. “Hm? I know that.” He shakes his head and goes back to chewing on his nails, his eyes darting down at his watch over and over again. You start to grow nervous that Steve might walk out on you right now. It wouldn’t be the first time. Finally, your names are called to present your lab and Steve sighs in relief, quickly standing up.

You guys present your lab almost perfectly, besides the fact that Steve could not slow down his speech, making it known he was in a rush. As soon as you said the last word of your presentation, Steve darted out the door. You smile at your professor awkwardly and then to your classmates. “Thank you…” you say quietly as you make your way back to your seat. The seat next to you now uncomfortably empty.

As soon as class is over you close your books and make your way to your dorm. You are incredibly thankful that you have no more classes for the day as you walk through campus. You can feel your throat start to close as tears brew in your eyes. Just once you wanted Steve to actually care. So many missed homework assignments, so many missed presentations, and now, finally when Steve shows up, he reminds you once again that none of this matters to him. Did you matter to him? Why would you? He’s Robin’s friend. You’re just his lab partner. You somehow wished you were more. After almost a whole year of being put on the back burner by Steve Harrington, you still expected more from him. Wanted more from him. You quickly wipe the tears that fall down your cheeks before a voice is heard from above.

“Hey, princess!!” The voice yells down. You jump slightly before looking up and seeing your favorite masked hero looking down at you. “Why the long face, sweetheart?” You laugh softly, wiping your tears clean off of your face. “I think you have better things to do than help a girl with her feelings.” You yell back with a smile. Spider-Man quickly jumps down and takes up the space right next to you. He shrugs, “my job comes with many responsibilities.” He starts to count on his fingers as he speaks. “Beating up bad guys, helping old ladies get their cats out of trees…helping old ladies cross the street, OH and watching pretty girls walk home.” One of your eyebrows goes up as your face contorts into amusement.

“Oh so I have a stalker now?” Even though the man has a mask on, you can feel the worry on his face as he gasps. “What? No… no! That’s not what I meant! You know that’s not what I meant!” He says awkwardly and in a panic as he puts his hand on his head. “I just mean… you know, you never know what could happen because of that… creepy guy the other night.” He leans his back on the wall of the building you guys are standing next to, trying to be slick and cover up what he had said. You can’t help but laugh as you step closer to him. “Well then I guess I’m honored.” As you look at the masked man, you can’t help but feel a longing for him. You want to know his secrets, what he looks like. His favorite color and favorite movie. You want to know him. Not Spider-Man, but the man in the mask. Your smile fades as you look toward your dorm building.

“Well, I shouldn’t keep you. It’s uh, it’s sweet of you to check on me.” You start to walk backwards, making your way to your dorm. Spider-Man sighs as he throws out his hand and swings back up to the light post he was on only minutes ago. “Don’t be a stranger.” He yells down. “How could I be??? You’re stalking me, remember??” You yell back at him as he shakes his head and laughs. “In your dreams, princess!” He yells one last time before swinging away. Oh if only he knew.

You spend the rest of the day longing for another interaction with Spider-Man. Just from the two small interactions you had, he made you feel like you mattered. As you sit cuddled up in your comforter, you can hear laughter approaching your room before Robin walks in with Steve. “Oh, sorry dingus number two! I didn’t know you’d be home yet.” You sigh as you sit up and look at them both. “No problem.” A small smile forms on your lips as Steve looks over at you. He waves and scratches his neck nervously. Robin looks at you both and rolls her eyes with a loud groan. “Oh get over it already you two. I can not have my two best friends be this awkward with each other all the time. It’s killing me!” She grabs a few popcorn bags and walks towards the door again. “I’m going to the lounge to make this. You two…” she points at you both back and forth, “work this out right now. She’s joining us for movie night tonight.” Steve looks at Robin with furrowed brows and slumped shoulders, almost begging her not to leave. Like they both know something you don’t and they are communicating with their minds.

Robin tilts her head at Steve and he rolls his eyes with a quiet, “okay, fine, fine…” leaving his lips, his hands going up in surrender. Robin quickly makes her way out of the dorm room, slamming the door behind her. You can’t help but laugh at her dramatics, Steve joining in right after. “Awkward? Pft… we aren’t awkward.” Steve says as he leans against Robin’s bed, arms crossed over his chest. You smile at him and roll your eyes before pointing between the two of you. “Oh, this isn’t awkward?” He shakes his head with a smug smile. “Nah…” he laughs before sighing and looking down at the ground. “I’m sorry… about earlier. I wish I could make it up to yo-,”

“Don’t worry about it.” You quickly cut him off, not wanting to get upset, but Steve shakes his head. “No, I am worried about it. I’m sorry.” You frown slightly at him before speaking. “I just want to know why, Steve. I know I’m just your lab partner, but…” you shake your head at your own words. Steve squints slightly at you, wanting you to keep going. “But what?”

You scoff again. “Nothing. Seriously. You have better things to do, I understand that.” Steve frowns back at you now as he glides his hand through his hair. “I just wish I could explain…” you shrug at him. “There’s nothing to explain, Steve. You have your life, I have mine.” Steve pushes his glasses up his face before sticking his hands in his pockets. “Whatever you say, princess.” You smile as you look down in your lap, but suddenly a voice in the back of your head repeats the word princess back to you. It’s not the word, it’s the way he said it. It’s not mocking you, it’s sweet…like honey. You freeze, mouth going slightly dry as your head shoots up to look at him, eyes going wide in shock. The nickname, of course you’ve heard it before.

“What?” Steve says with a small chuckle, noticing the way you're suddenly studying his face. The chuckle that leaves Steve’s lips suddenly sounds familiar to you. He’s busy all the time because he is Spider-Man. A voice says in your head before you shake it away. “Nothing…nothing! We’re good, Steve, I promise.” Your mind is still running wild. You try your best to hide your thoughts, not wanting to look crazy. Steve smiles and holds out his pinky, just like earlier. “Pinky promise?” You take a deep breath before locking fingers with him again. “Pinky promise.” You smile and just as you’re about to say something else, Robin barges in the room with two bowls full of popcorn, she smiles wildly as she looks at your fingers interlocked. “Awwww… dingus one and dingus two just needed some alone time!” She says as you and Steve both roll your eyes and let go of each other’s hands. You look over at Steve one more time, his curly hair dangling in his face, his glasses perfectly framing his face, and you can’t help but smile.

Maybe your connection with Spider-Man ran deeper than just having a crush on a masked superhero. Maybe he’s been in front of you this whole time and you’ve never realized it. Whether your sudden realization was real or not, Steve Harrington had his secrets, but so did everyone else. Maybe you’d never know who was behind the masked hero, but suddenly, it didn’t matter.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve stranger things #stranger things #stranger things x you #spiderman #spiderman x reader #spidersona

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