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muzzlemouths · 5 days

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[CW: Death/implication of death]

The clock reads a quarter to midnight when Sun powers on. Too early. He isn’t meant to come online for another six hours, and the daycare itself won’t open for another hour after that. He promptly runs a scan to determine the reasoning behind his premature entrance and when it returns inconclusive he turns to Moon. It is his metaphorical toes he is stepping on by encroaching on the night as he is, after all.

It’s quiet. The kind of quiet that settles like dust. A quiet that makes one aware of the breath that stirs within their lungs or, in Sun’s case, the gentle whir of an internal fan that perpetually keeps his system from running itself into the ground. A quiet so frequently interrupted by the welcomed voice of his other half…and yet, nothing. His question goes unanswered, left to gather with the dust, and he is forced to proceed as though these strange happenings haven’t disrupted his entire morning routine.

A routine further disturbed upon having to remind himself for the second time already that it isn’t morning, he isn’t meant to be going through the start-up procedure to begin with, and he can’t be blamed for the corrupted sense of awareness he feels as a result. Sure, the lights are on, and his systems, too, return with normal results after a precautionary scan, but there is a discomfort to all of this scratching at the inner plating of his frame. Something is wrong wrong wrong.

“…Moon?”

His second attempt at communication yields no better results than the first, only a vague static answering the call, murmur-soft background noise, as though someone had plucked a phone from its receiver and then walked away. Frustrating is what it was. To ignore him was childish at best, but at worst, it was concerning. His relationship with Moon was reasonably amicable even on the longest of days, he worked better with Moon than without, so the absence was unusual as much as it was alarming.

Alone with his thoughts for the foreseeable future, Sun decides there is little point to sitting around in the midst of this confusion when he could be using the time to busy himself with more important tasks, such as tidying up all the apparent dust around here. Better yet, he can get a head-start in preparation for that day’s activities. Something to keep his mind from wandering into worrywart territory, at the very least.

An ache stemming at the tail of his exoskeleton twinges with particularly horrendous vengeance upon finally convincing his legs to move. He buries the vocalization of a wince and carries on across the carpeted room with little more than a brief mental note to mention the pain to a mechanic if it worsens by tomorrow. No use in wasting company time for what he’s sure is only the result of one or both of them landing wrong after receiving a hug from one of the daycare’s more excitable children (or several).

Still, it makes the process of retrieving a stray toy from the floor that much harder when he sees it lying in wait by the slide. If anything, bending down to reclaim the doll only exacerbates the ache until it grows into a proper sting, now difficult to ignore. Yet ignore it he does, to the best of his ability. There are things to do and he isn’t about to let a pinch of soreness slow him down now. No, sirree! He has play equipment to wipe down, craft supplies to ready, and–

and…

His hand stops just short of reaching the doll, long yellow fingers curling inward, against his palm which is painted with splotches of salt and pepper, as though a bottle of dully colored glitter glue had exploded across his fingers and hand. He straightens again and lifts his other hand, noting a similar stretch of television static, one that carries beyond his wrist up the length of his forearm in smeared blotches and specks like splattered paint in dirty snow hues.

Messy messy messy. What could Moon have gotten up to that resulted in such a mess? He’d have made a face, had he a nose to wrinkle in the first place.

Instead he allows for one small tut of disgust to escape his voice box before turning his attention back to the doll, taking note of the static that stains the carpet beside its head, and just beyond it, too; a trail made up of one scattered drop after another.

Ever curious, he knows not what to do besides follow it, hoping for an answer to the many questions burning through his system. Each continuous speck leads him in the direction of the exit, every patch of static more plentiful than the last, and as he allows the strange color to guide him forward he begins to question not only its existence, but why it all seems so familiar, as though he’s seen it somewhere before.

There is little time to mull it over. He arrives at the service desk where the trail ends abruptly, and Sun pauses with the toe of his slippers stood just an inch before a stray, black shoe that might have sent him stumbling face first into carpet had he not already been looking down. A shoe isn’t the most bizarre thing to lose in a daycare of all places, and he decides right away that it isn’t anything to worry over, just another item to drop into lost and found, but where there is a shoe there is bound to be someone missing it and, well…

Sun finds the answer he’s looking for just a few inches behind the service desk.

Face down and tucked in on themselves as they are, cloaked in the desk’s shadow, it’s impossible to tell anything about the person beyond their age, and even that is somewhat uncertain — though the size 9 shoe left behind offers a decent clue. This discovery does wonders to quell the anxiety in Sun’s chest. An adult was much easier to escort from the daycare, given the lack of parental contribution it necessitated, and it looked like this one was just sleeping! An odd place to go about it, sure — against the rules, most certainly — but it’s nothing that can’t be fixed with a purposeful tap to the ankle.

So, that’s exactly what he does. Bending dramatically at the knee, head swiveling to one side, Sun’s fingers dance as though he intends on tickling the trespasser awake before extending his index finger and tapping twice in quick succession against the exposed skin between their pant leg and sock. “Rise and shine, friend!” He chirps, “It’s time to head home now.”

He’d have preferred the tried-and-true method of rousing someone (that is, a gentle rock of the shoulders), but given that their guest was currently resting in the one area that Sun was not permitted entry to, he was forced to resort to more…creative measures. Unfortunately, this action does not yield the results he is hoping for.

“Friend?” Sun calls again, allowing his voice to raise a decibel from the polite mumble it had been before. The laughter that cuts from his voicebox is nervous and too loud on its own, his anxiety returning tenfold. The points of logic he had used to reassure himself before were now quickly dwindling with each passing second in which he received no response.

With his steps now admittedly growing frantic, Sun tiptoes around the desk to the other side, hoping for a better view of their comatose companion. What happens instead is an almost comical flailing of limbs as his slipper takes to an unseen puddle of static like it were a banana peel, resulting in a scramble to keep himself upright that only comes to an end when he braces against the nearest wall for support. The distraction is agitating, but short lived. A commotion like that would surely have awoken anyone, no matter how deep in slumber they were, and the continued lack of response does nothing to relieve Sun of the stress threatening to fry his circuits.

“Friend, this is n-no time for jokes!” He asserts, speaking at full volume, now, every word drenched in tense frustration. His gaze falls to the puddle of static soaking into the bottoms of his slippers, that twinge of recognition rearing its head once more. “I’m not in the mood for games, right now, so if you’re only pretending to sleep—” his hand comes away from the wall feeling wrong, the familiar sensation of sticky static blanketing his palm and crusting in the grooves between his joints as it further dries. His fingers curl into a loose fist long enough to observe the way each digit smears against his palm and leaves behind a tacky residue that he can feel, but not see.

He looks up. There, on the wall, two handprints interrupt the static. The first is larger, an obvious testament to the humbling misstep he’d only just finished recovering from, but the other…it was far smaller, surely left behind by the same stranger currently snoozing away beneath the desk, and it ran from the lightswitch down down down to the floor, where the accusing hand now rested just outside the desk’s shadow.

How strange, Sun thinks, tilting his head to get a better look. The way the static paints their skin, it almost looks like—

“You’re doing so well, dewdrop, just a moment longer and you’ll be right as rain again!” Sun gives the small hand intertwined with his own an encouraging squeeze as the other, equipped with an antiseptic wipe, dutifully dabs away at a scuffed knee. His young patient, having tripped and burned her skin along the carpet, is nothing less than a trooper as he cleans the static from the shallow wound. Not even a sniffle!

He tucks the wipe into the flat of his palm and trades it out for ointment, smearing a healthy dollop of it along the reddened surface before wiping his finger along the striping of his pants and reaching for a bandaid; Chica pink with pizzas on one side and cupcakes on the other.

“There, now. I’m sure that feels better already!”

Blood. Viscous, cold, pooling at his feet. On the walls, the carpet. His hands. Cherry red like a lollipop and twice as sticky…or so he’s told. Nothing a robot of his nature is meant to see or understand. His censors make sure of it. Rather than allow him to see things are they are, the incarnadine color is suppressed behind a layer of static, as if he won’t care to acknowledge it at all beyond its existence on scraped knees and split lips. As if he is meant to ignore the way it feels in its abundance, caked against his palms and festering between his open joints.

Messy, messy, messy. He feels dirtied beyond repair, filthy in a way that even a deep cleaning won’t fix. The wires in his stomach feel twisted, begging to come undone, shorting like sparklers against their ports and threatening to make short work of bringing him down. His screens are flooded with alerts that warn of an inevitable shut-down if he can’t manage to pull himself back together, but moving feels impossible, an insurmountable task. He can not think past the sensation of someone else’s life soaking into the cotton of his slippers.

And what of their guest? Sun can hardly get himself to look again, pleading with the matter of logic itself as he is forced to reckon with the knowledge that this is a rest they may never wake from. But he does look. He has to.

He wishes he hadn’t.

The brief glimpse he endures before looking anywhere else is more than enough. From this angle, the static – the blood – paints a grim picture. In spite of this, Sun finds himself circling the desk a second time and preparing to draw the body – the visitor – out from under the desk. It is a daunting task, but a necessary one, by Sun’s account. If there is nothing to be done in such a hopeless situation then, at the very least, he owes this stranger the dignity of recognition and an attempt. He can claim to have looked for a pulse. Even so, he hesitates.

There is not one to be found; Sun knows this. He knows painfully well from the static lingering on his silicone that it is already too late. Oil is warmed by the processors it fuels, and similarly, blood is meant to be hot. The soles of his slippers are cold. The pads of his fingers, against even the raging inferno of his overworked circuitry, are cold.

The body is cold.

He perseveres, regardless, dragging the stranger out from under the desk by a shaky grip on their ankle one inch at a time, pausing every few tugs to look away and regather his confidence, trying so, so hard to tune out the ever-constant music as it merrily sings through the speakers.

He begs the underlying silence. “Please have a pulse.” Tug. “Please don’t be cold.” Tug. “I don’t know what to do.” Tug. “I can’t do this alone.” Tug. “You have to wake up.” Tug. “Please.” Tug. “Please!” Tug. “Please, please, please, pleasepleasepleasepleasepleaseple—”

He knows this visitor. Not a friend, but not quite a stranger, either. His scanner attempts to process the identification of a man whose head is so thick with static that it returns as an error. His face is contorted grotesquely, mouth slightly agape and eyes wide with fear. They don’t look like they’re sleeping.

A security guard whose name fails to ping in his registry. Sun had spoken with him once, maybe twice before. He drank coffee by the mile and hardly stuck around long enough to do more than complain about the weather. Sun hadn’t been in a hurry to befriend the man, but he only wished the best for him. Squeezed a joke in where he could in an attempt to turn his frown upside-down. It had never worked before, but Sun was no quitter. Now he would never get the chance to try again.

“Focus, focus.” Sun carefully lowers the man’s foot back to the carpet again, choking on the sensation of bloodied clothes slipping through his fingers and resisting the urge to tear the rays straight out of his faceplate in response. He is inconsolably panicked and at a loss for what to do, two steps from outright laughing, the complete absurdity of the situation driving him to hysterics.

He needed to call security. He couldn’t call security. Security was–

Management. There were other employees that worked the night shift if Moon complaining about them making too much noise during naptime was anything to go by. If he sent out a general call for assistance surely someone would come and tell him what to do, even at this late hour. It was his best option. His only option.

“Don’t.”

The voice makes him jump clear out of his casings. He has half a mind to swear, but as it stands, Sun thinks the long divots he dragged into the service desk out of surprise are enough damage already. On top of everything else.

“Moon?” He whispers. “Nice of you to finally join us – and by us, I mean me and the deceased guest I discovered a moment ago. Do you have a clue what’s going on here?”

“Don’t?” Sun echoes, agitated, “Don’t what?”

“Don’t.”

If the tether keeping his sanity intact was fraying before, it’s now down to a single thread. “Why not?” He asks with great exhaustion, “Did you not hear me? This is an emergency! There is a dead body in the–”

“Call management.”

“I know.”

Silence answers. Despite having a hundred and one snarky retorts building in between each crackle and pop of his voice box, Sun has nothing to say to that. Nothing good, anyway. It takes nine steady ticks of the clock for him to recollect his thoughts.

“You…you know?” He stutters, “How could you…” but he doesn’t finish the question, and he doesn’t need to. Realization strikes him with an iron fist for the second time that day and it is no less kinder than the first. “Did… you do this?”

It’s Moon’s turn to go quiet.

That silence stretches on for what feels like hours to Sun, each passing second more agonizing than the last, until he starts to believe Moon had simply disappeared like before. He waits, and waits, and finally decides to interrupt the silence with a repeat of the question, despite already knowing the answer. Moon beats him to it.

The tired sigh that escapes Sun’s throat is thoroughly earned. “Well, it’s too late to figure something else out, I already sent out the emergency ping.”

“Not sure,” he says, and Sun can tell from his tone that it’s the truth. “Blurry. My head hurts.”

A sound like nothing he’s ever heard before tears itself from Moon’s voicebox. A growl, if he were to put a name to it.

“Get rid of it, then.” Moon insists through the noise, “Clean up, clean up.”

“It?” Sun gawks, “Moon, that – that’s a person. He has dignity, a family!”

“Had a family,” Moon corrects, “dead, now. No dignity. Who will they blame?”

The question gives him pause. Surely there was a better way to go about this, a solution that didn’t have his morals (and wires, for that matter) all up in a twist. Yet the longer he thinks about it, the more he realizes Moon is right. Management hardly listens when he tries to explain that it was the children who broke a piece of playground equipment, not him! They aren’t likely to give his explanation of simply having found the body any mind, much less understanding. With his counterpart practically admitting to the heinous act, already, informing management of the body would sooner see them decommissioned.

“Running out of time,” Moon reminds him, “Tick, tock, tick, tock, tick–”

“Alright, alright!” He wails, “What should I do, then?”

“Clean up.”

“Where?” Sun looks around with the desperation of a teenager attempting to play hooky, rays practically nonexistent with how he’s tucked them away. His eyes search the room from top to bottom before landing determinedly on the ball pit.

“Good enough,” Moon tuts, a rather uninspired response to the happenings around him. Of course he isn’t panicking, it isn’t him who takes the body by its ankles and drags the dead weight across the carpet. It isn’t him who shoves aside enough plastic to carefully hide a corpse in. But it should be him worrying, it should be him panicking, because if management finds out about their secret, it’ll spell doom for both of them.

“You’ll get rid of it – him – properly once there’s no one around, right?” Sun finishes reshuffling the ball pit, mostly confident that the ill deed is successfully hidden from view. “I’m going to have to wash each and every one of these balls before the kids arrive in the morning.”

Right, the kids. When they arrive in just a few hours, will he have things tidied up? Will he be able to carry on as though nothing happened? He’s a brilliant actor – or he used to be, anyway, before the company decided he better fit the role of a nanny – but this is well beyond the scripts he is most familiar with.

“They’re close,” Moon warns him, “Don’t let them see–”

“I know, I know.” No time to dwell on it now, he makes quick work of crossing the distance between the ball pit and the exit, and manages to slide his head and torso through the gap between doors within seconds of it opening, scaring the living daylights of the poor employee sent to greet him in the process.

Unlike Sun, they do swear, clutching a hand over their chest and fitting him with a downright awful deadpanned stare. “Fuck, you couldn’t have waited a few seconds longer for me to come inside?” They hiss.

“Sorry, friend! Didn’t mean to spook you,” Sun chirps. He is careful to keep his bloodied hands safely tucked behind his back. “It’s just a mess in here, is all, and I’m rather embarrassed. There’s still equipment to clean, toys to organize, papers to fold–”

“Sure,” the employee interrupts, “It doesn’t really–” they pinch the bridge of their nose, exhaling with notably less exhaustion than Sun is feeling right about now, “I don’t particularly care. What’s the big issue that I was called down here for?”

“Oh! I just wanted to know if the next shipment of wipes had come in, yet. Like I said before, much to do! Always busy, busy, busy!”

Their stare turns into an outright glower. “That’s why you called the emergency line? For cleaning supplies?”

Sun shrugs, feigning ignorance. “Well, that’s an emergency to me. Apparently our standards are not the same.” He watches them roll their eyes with more enthusiasm than necessary. ”Do you know how messy children can be? It’s practically a barnyard in here, every single day, and don’t even get me started on how much of a health code violation it would be if one of them were to pick their nose and then–”

“Fine, I get it,” they snap, “I’ll make sure your damn supplies are delivered before the daycare opens. Anything else?”

“Told you they were annoying,” Moon chimes in.

“That’s everything!” He replies, “thank you a mighty amount, friend!”

“Mhm,” they mutter, waving him off with nothing more than the noncommittal sound. When they do turn to leave, it’s not soon enough, and Sun just barely manages to close the door with a whisper instead of a slam.

His back rests against it a moment later, and he allows himself to collapse from there, sliding down the smooth wooden frame until his tailbone reaches the floor. His knees twinge as they tuck against his chest, and he folds both arms atop, resting his temple against them and taking one long, much needed moment to just breathe.

It had only been half of a lie. There was much to do, much to clean, and only so many hours remaining to get it done. The wires nestled deep in his chest had calmed, yet the tremor in his hands continued, as it likely would until the very last speck of blood was washed clean.

“…Moon?”

“Hm?”

Sun tucks his knees ever closer. “Why…why did you do it?”

“…”

“I w-won’t be mad, promise! I’m sure this is all just one big misunderstanding, after all – a one time event, no biggie! But…was it out of anger? Fear? I mean, did he hurt–”

“In my way,” Moon replies.

Sun’s head lifts from the dark haven his arms provide, noting with growing exhaustion that, for the very first time, the lights felt too bright even for him. “What do you mean by that?” He asks, “Did he keep you from doing something?”

“…I don’t know.”

Again, Sun’s head falls against his arms in defeat, and again, not two seconds later, it lifts, determined not to lollygag any longer.

His legs creak with vocal effort as he gets back to his feet. “Well, no point in dwelling on it now, I suppose. I’m sure it’s nothing.” He takes in a wide view of the daycare – static trailing everywhere – and deflates with a sigh. “Guess I better get started. The sooner we get the place cleaned up, the sooner we can forget about all of this.”

He takes a step forward, and only that, swiveling on his heel when he catches last night’s roster from the corner of his eye. A single drop of static had landed and smeared across the name of a child meant to go home later in the evening.

Strangely enough, it appears they were never picked up.

Sun shrugs, gathering the paper in both hands and crumpling it into a ball to dispose of the smeared evidence. A simple mistake with the roster, that’s all it is. The parents often forget to sign their name after all. Accidents happen all the time!

The paper lands with a soft thunk in the nearest trash can and is just as quickly forgotten. Sun pivots towards the play area once more and heads for the supply closet, steadfast in his determination to be cleaned up on time, and feeling more confident than he ought to be about how things ended, all things considered.

More than anything, he is just happy to have all of this behind them.

#drabbles #sun fnaf #moon fnaf #sundrop #moondrop #no y/n #death cw #blood mention cw #can you believe it? tumblr user muzzlemouths posting a fic that ISN'T y/n related?#I needed an additional example for my app. lmao #anyway! if it isn't obvious this takes place at the very beginning of Moon's glitch #his First Kill(tm) even #hope it isn't too heartbreaking for all my fellow Moon enjoyers out there <3 stay strong

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munsonsreputation · 4 months

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I THINK THERES BEEN A GLITCH

CHAPTER FIVE: FASTENING MYSELF TO YOU WITH A STITCH

↢ chapter four | series masterlist | chapter six ↣

steve harrington x fem!baker + artist

word count: [20.5K]

warnings: no use of y/n, cursing, self deprecation (are we surprised???) overall fluff

summary: things get heavy with the farmers market making its quick approach — thoughts gnawing away at you and pressure building in your bones. slowly but surely, you’re back at square one, lost in the labyrinth, thinking that the plane was going down. but what happens when Steve comes along in the midst of the storm and mess?

There was a sugary sweet aroma that clouded your apartment — a mixture of freshly chopped fruit that simmered in lemon juice and the overwhelming heaps of sugar and vanilla you mixed together all day.

Racks of fresh baked cookies cooled on a wire rack on the counters while the next batch baked in the oven. You had gone as far as to clearing out most of your fridge space — pre-filled piping bags littering the shelves along with the rest of the precut ingredients you had prepared throughout the week.

Somehow, no amount of planning and prep seemed to matter because you hadn’t anticipated being responsible for a few hundred batches of sweets for Saturday’s Farmers Market. Perhaps you should’ve posed a few more questions and concerns before agreeing on the spot, but you knew you weren’t going to leave Nancy hanging.

She was always so good to you… welcoming, big-hearted, and most of all supportive. Even if she didn’t ask, you would’ve volunteered yourself the second she brought up that she would be hosting the event.

If there was any way you could help, you wouldn’t even think about hesitating.

However, the ache in your limbs and the tiredness in your eyes were speaking a whole nother tune than your heart and mind. You spent the entire week in and out of the grocery store picking up pounds and pounds of flour and sugar — even the sweet lady at the market had run out of fresh eggs to sell you, having already picked up a few dozen days prior.

There were too many baking dishes and itty bitty teaspoons littering the bottom of your kitchen sink.

Recipes that normally took you an hour to bake had tripled with the increasing measurements.

Grocery store runs became more and more frequent with you forgetting to pick up that one very important and vital ingredient.

The menu you had scribbled down on a random piece of paper had been crossed off and rewritten and crossed off again more times than you could count. At this point it was barely legible, the black ink a jumbled mess of your handwriting that only you could understand.

Safe to say you were a mess… literally and figuratively.

There was a tingling feeling in your bones, an impatient restless prickle that flooded your senses in a way that was voicing to you that you were on the verge of a breakdown in the middle of your kitchen if you didn’t step away.

“Fuck this!” You hissed to yourself sharply.

You reached for the knob, turning it to shut off the heat completely and pulled the bubbling fruit compote away from the burner. The floorboards creaked under your heavy footsteps taking you away from the kitchen and into the living room where you fell against the couch cushions, finally letting your back rest after being on your feet all day.

“It’s gonna be okay… everything is fine, I’m just being dramatic.” You whispered reassuringly to yourself with fanning hands trying to get yourself to cool down.

But you and your consciousness knew you weren’t fooling anyone… not even yourself.

It wasn’t a foreign feeling at all — you had been here many times before staring up at the ceiling and trying to ground yourself in any shape or form. But it just so happened that you hadn’t felt like this in awhile, maybe because of how busy life had become with your new friendships and the less time you spent worrying.

You had done your best to keep it at bay, even when it came to your artist’s block, you never let it overwhelm you like this If anything you accepted it and waited it out, but now that you knew someone was counting on you… it just had to come back and bite you in the ass.

“I can’t do this!” You whined dramatically, standing up and snatching the phone off the coffee table, dialing in the numbers and pressing it tightly to your ear.

With every ring you paced back and forth from end to end of your living room. The cord pulled taut with each step you took before it was slack and taut again.

‘Hey this is the Buckley residence, sorry we can’t come to the phone right now… you should probably leave a message and we’ll try to get back to you but no promises!’

You groaned, pinching your eyes shut as you stood in place waiting for the beep to come but you really wished she would have picked it up and sounded off her lovely voice.

“Hey, Robs, it’s me,” you knew she would be concerned right away when she heard this, your usual bubbly greeting gone and instead replaced with dullness.

“I’m having a really shitty day right now and maybe you can give me a call when you get home? Love you and hope to talk soon.”

It never got this bad, to the point where you felt like you couldn’t move from where you were and even if you wanted to, you had no idea how.

The thought of letting someone you cared about down made your stomach twist and turn. You didn’t have many people in your life, let alone genuine friends. But that all changed when you met Robin and soon after her friends became yours.

Nancy trusted you and was counting on you to be there for her — to show up the way for her the same way she did you. And sweet Will was also counting on you, the boy pitched you the idea and you smiled in his face promising him that it wasn’t only great but that you’d be there to help.

You could already imagine the disappointment in their eyes if you had to tell them you weren’t sure you were the right fit just barely two days before the event. It would totally shatter them, maybe not completely, but enough for them to never ask you for anything ever again because you’d only let them down.

Even when you didn’t mean to, it always happened, and here you were about to repeat it all over again. Losing the people who genuinely cared about you the same way you cared about them just because you couldn’t get out of your own head.

All of your life you had believed that everything good and right just ended up breaking, burning, and ending — it was always your fate.

DING!

“Oh my god!”

You scrambled off the cushions in a haste, the phone toppling over onto the floor as you ran into the kitchen and threw on the oven mitts as quickly as you could. The smell of burning was only faint, the timer you had set on the microwave beeping two more times before shutting up.

You whipped the oven door opened, a big gush of heat enveloping the air whilst you reached in and grabbed the pan. Frantically searching your kitchen for any free space on the already cluttered counters, you made room on the kitchen table, placing it down on a dish towel to prevent it from developing a heat stain.

Much to your surprise, the cookies were not at all burnt: the colorful sprinkles of funfetti still remained vibrant embedded within the vanilla sugar cookies. You wedged the metal spatula underneath, checking and making sure they were perfectly golden, which in fact they were.

“Fuck my life.” You huffed, throwing off the mitt and raking your hands through your scalp.

The pressure was building, the weight on your chest feeling like the whole town was counting on you when you knew deep down they weren’t. The show would still go on with or without you but it just was principal – being inconsiderate or not.

The phone began to ring, muffled sounds from against your living room carpet as it had fallen over in the midst of the haste. It was probably Robin, concerned about the voicemail you left minutes ago.

“Hey sweet—”

“Steve!”

It was supposed to be a greeting of pleasant surprise not expecting him to be on the other line, despite spending the last week non stop on the phone with each other when you both were free. But all Steve heard was panic and distress, your warm and surprised hello replaced with everything opposite of that, making his mind race.

“Woah, hey, did something happen? Are you okay?”

You couldn't spare him from the truth or not, and it didn’t really matter because he’d end up finding out somehow. You sighed, peeking back into the disaster of your kitchen before looking down at your lap, fidgeting with your fingers.

“I… well, kinda, not really, I don’t really know.”

“Do you need me to drive down there? I can come right now.”

There was shuffling in the background, his bed squeaking from getting up from it and the sound of his car keys being swiped off the counters. It had you backtracking as quickly as possible, regretting being so vague and making him worry like this knowing he was so far away.

While the thought of him coming down to see you after a week apart sounded enticing, it would be entirely selfish to let him do so. You weren’t Steve’s responsibility to take care of, no matter how much you felt inside for him and how his presence could put you at ease right about now.

For now, you’d settle for the next best thing: him over the phone.

“Wait, no, that’s not what I mean, I’m sorry…” You squeezed your eyes shut, sniffling a deep breath in, “I just—just was having a really bad day and then I almost burnt the cookies I had in the oven. I’m not hurt, I promise.”

There was a deep sigh at the end of your sentence, the one where he could picture your shoulders falling defeatedly and that terrible frown he hated to see on your face. He could imagine it would be the same sight as when you sat across from him at the diner and felt so horrible about yourself.

If only you were a block away, he’d be at your doorstep in a heartbeat ready to tackle whatever was going on like it was his only duty in the world. To be quite honest he hated the distance between the both of you, like some sort of curse that only you two had to go through.

Way to go for Dustin and Suzies long distance problems.

There was another squeak, his back hitting his bed again before he spoke. “What’s going on?”

You shook your head, not wanting to dump all of it on him after the day he probably had. “N-nothing. I’m just being dramatic and getting in my head about the farmers market thing.”

There was a migraine already coming to life from the pulse on your temples just thinking about it again.

“C’mon tell me what’s bothering you.” He pressed, unwavering in his efforts to help you get it off your chest.

You took another deep breath, falling back onto the couch cushions and this time ready let all the pent up stress go by finally telling someone the truth.

“I don’t know if I can do it… I mean, I didn’t anticipate for it to be this stressful, you know. Which is stupid of me, I mean what did I think it was gonna be? A walk in the park? I swear, I’m not lazy or anything, I just didn’t realize—”

He cut in before you could even think about finishing that sentence, scoffing incredulously, “Stop it, you don’t have to tell me you’re not lazy because I know you’re not.”

His voice was soothing and sure, not a hint of uncertainty behind it that made you think otherwise. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at your own negativity that you promised yourself you would stop doing but would always have a habit of.

“Saying it out loud makes me feel like I am.” You attempted to laugh at yourself to lighten the spirits, but Steve let out a disapproving grunt and you almost see the visual of him shaking his head.

“You’re such a hard worker, I mean, that’s why Nance picked you. She knew you could do this and I do too.”

Even over the phone he never failed to make your heart melt and cheeks blush. Call yourself cheesy or whatever, but he was the greatest pick me up on days like these.

Staring up at your ceiling you began getting lost in him despite the lack of visuals. “I kid you not, I think I went back to the grocery store like five whole times. My arms are going to be ripped with how many pounds of flour and sugar I’ve been picking up.”

He chuckled, trying to picture it in his head. Poor you having to lug bags and bag of flour from the store all the way to your car then back home.

“You know you could’ve called, I would have come down and helped sooner.”

“I didn’t want to bother you. You’re already doing a lot at work and—”

“Cupcake, I categorize tapes. My job is far from stressful.” His tone went stoic, pretending like he didn’t know what you were talking about.

Steve did more than just categorized tapes. He dealt with the horrible and impatient customers, even the rowdy teenagers who kept wandering back to the adult film section. He put up with a whole lot at work — but you were never someone he had to deal with.

A relief of sorts is what you were – someone he’d call or run to with no hesitation because it just felt right. No obligations, no whys or hows, just because in his bones, you felt like that person for him.

His almost.

You’re the one he looked forward to calling after a long hard day knowing that you would be able to make him forget all about it. He could lay there in his bed, eyes shut with the phone glued to his ear and you on the other end of it. Maybe it wasn’t the best substitute for sleep, but in his eyes it was the best rest he could ever get if you weren’t here laying beside him like before.

Still, your apologies never ceased, too concerned for his own wellbeing. “But you’re on your feet all day and you’re really tired and—”

Steve cut you off, stopping your unnecessary yet thoughtful concern for him.

“And I still would’ve come down even if I was all of those things. You don’t have to worry about bothering me, you know you never do.” He said it sincerely, a happy and eased way about it like there was no other way to explain it.

“How do you always do that?” You murmured, voice finally settling into a more relaxed mood the longer you spent away from the chaos.

“Do what?”

You wiggled around, tapping your fingers against the phone, “You know what I need to hear even when I don’t say it outloud.”

Steve had always been great at that and for someone who claimed to never be good with words, he just knew exactly what to say. He’d like to think it was because the kids needed constant advice in their teenage lives and he came to be better at guiding and explaining things to them.

But you never asked for advice nor did he feel like you ever needed it. Everything that he’d spew to you came from the bottom of his heart, things that he always wanted to tell you without reservation.

He pretended to think for a second before replying obviously, “Hmm, maybe it’s because I care about you?”

“You care about me?”

His laugh echoed lightly, thinking you were playing around because how could you not know? Your silence answered his question, and he just knew he had to tell you how serious he was.

“Of course I do!” You could tell he sat back up on his bed, voice a little stronger now as he continued, “I care about you and I can’t stand hearing you talk so badly about yourself when I’m head over—”

A loud ring erupted through the receiver, a second call on the other line completely cutting Steve off as he was about to put it all out on the table.

“Shit!” You winced pulling the phone back and rubbing your ear from where it was ringing.

“What!?” Steve shouted loud enough to hear with the phone still pulled away from you.

Looking down at the display, the last name ‘BUCKLEY’ illuminated in bright orange.

“Umm, Robin is calling… I left her a voicemail and she’s probably worried and I—”

Steve let out a breath of relief, sighing out as he settled back on the springs of his bed. “You can put me on hold, it’s okay.”

“O-okay, sorry, just a minute.” You squeaked, switching the line with your brain still processing what he was on the verge of saying.

“Hey Ro—”

You couldn’t even get the full greeting out before her voice came to you rushed — you could imagine that’s exactly what Steve heard when you picked up his call a few minutes ago.

“Oh thank god! I thought something bad happened for a second. Are you alright?” She asked worriedly.

“Yeah! Just kinda had a mini breakdown, but I promise that I’m—”

“Do you want me to come down? I can call Steve or Nance and get a ride there.” She offered quickly without hesitation.

You truly had the best friends in the entire world… how did you manage to get so lucky?

“No! No! I swear I’m okay… it was just some stupid thoughts about the farmers market thing. You know the stress and whatever.” You reassured her, hoping she wasn’t too strung up on it.

“Are you sure?” She pressed again just for good measure, “I know Steve would drop everything for me and him to come down and help you.” Her voice lifted with a bit of teasing that you caught.

You smiled self indulgently, happy to know you had people who were willing to come all the way down here to be with you — it showed that they really cared, and even if you didn’t need them to, hearing it outloud warmed your anxious heart.

“You’re so sweet, Ro…but I swear, I’m okay! Steve actually called me.”

“He did?” She gasped.

She wasn’t actually too surprised considering that these days after scoring your number all Steve would talk about was getting home from work to give you a call before you headed to bed.

The next morning she would be bombarded with him going on and on about the conversation you two had — little things like what you had for dinner, a stray cat you started feeding, entirely mundane yet sappy things that had him hooked because you were the star of those stories.

Nevertheless she loved hearing about it — a perfect start to her morning, lunch break, and the entire shift of the day before doing a full repeat the next day.

“Yeah, he’s on the other line right now.”

A squeal ensued from her end, one that made a smile pop upon your features because her happiness always had its special way of radiating and lifting up everyone around her.

“Oh perfect! Merge the call!”

“Are you sure? I can tell him I’ll call him back later.” You offered, wanting her to know she would always have your full undivided attention.

“You can merge it! I actually have something important I really want to tell the both of you if it’s okay?” She said making your mind race with a million different things she could be planning to tell you and Steve if it was this important.

“Of course, give me a sec.”

You heard her “mhm,” before you switched lines again and this time Steve’s whistling came through the receiver.

“S-sorry, she was checking in.” You cleared your throat, not doing a great job of masking the croak.

“Was she jumpy?” He joked, knowing she had a habit of doing that all the time.

“A little,” you snickered, “she wants me to merge the call. Has something important to tell us.”

“Okay, cool, yeah that’s fine. She called out of work today so I didn’t get to talk to her all day.”

Robin calling out of work was a rarity, sure the job was a little boring, but working with her best friend compensated for that. Steve was usually up to date in advance whether she would be calling out or not – so getting to work today and not seeing her was incredibly weird.

You cleared your throat once more, fingers twirling around the cord as you spoke kindly, not wanting to let what he did for you go unnoticed. But Steve never did things to be thanked for, you knew that for sure, but still, you would cherish him for taking the time out of his day to be there for you.

“But umm, I really appreciate what you said earlier, y’know… encouraging me and whatnot.” Your voice was soft, filled with a mixture of gratitude and warmth.

“You know all you have to do is ask and I’ll be your biggest supporter.” Steve responded happily, making sure that it stuck with you.

Your fingers hovered over the merge button, contemplating your choice of words before you decided to let it go at the last second. “And Steve?”

“Hmm?”

“I-I care about you too…a lot, just so you know.”

You said with an oath-like-whisper hearing his breath hitch with a thick swallow. Clearly he was a little taken aback by your sudden leap of boldness that was usually hidden under your bashfulness that he found endearing, nonetheless. Before Steve could say anything else, you clicked the merge button, a quick static ringing through the receiver before it cleared up.

A joyful Robin came through the other side. “Can you guys hear me, alright?”

Steve coughed, trying to steady his heart that was pumping faster as he hung onto your words for dear life. He tried to think of something else in the meantime, knowing he needed to at least survive this phone call before he got to pace his room for the rest of the night and replay the words in his head.

“Y-yeah.”

“Yuppers!”

You obviously did a better job at trying to seem nonchalant.

Robin squealed, the sounds of her getting comfortable on her couch filling the line before she spoke again.

“I have some really big major news to spill but—”

“But first tell me why you called out of work, dingus? I had to deal with Keith all alone today!” Steve retorted.

She scoffed loudly, “God, do you ever shut up and listen, Harrington? It’s a part of my story.”

“Wait, you called out of work because of this big major news?” You asked suspiciously.

“Yeah…well actually no! I called out of work for a reason that led up to the big major news.” She informed you both.

“Oh! Well, whenever you’re ready!” You chirped ready for the news.

“Okay so remember Vickie?”

Steve clicked his tongue a few times, “Isn’t she still dating that jerk from Purdue?”

“Not since last month!”

“What happened between them?” You wondered, not knowing much about Vickie and her history with Robin.

There was a heavy sigh before a devastating confession. “He cheated on her.”

“Ouch.” You grimaced, biting down on your lip.

“What an asshole.” Steve muttered.

“Exactly! But anyway, we ran into each other this morning at the bus stop and we kinda just hit it off and we spent the day together then she kissed me!”

You gasped and Steve cursed. The both of you were shocked by not only hearing about poor Vicky’s cheating situation, but on top of all that, the fact that she and Robin had swapped spit after how many months of pining.

“You blew me off for a girl!?”

“Oh shut up Steve, as if you didn’t do it to me before either!”

If you weren’t so flabbergasted, you’d make a comment about how the two still fought like siblings even over the phone, but you didn’t, too intrigued and wanting to know more details.

“Did she initiate the kiss?”

“Yes!”

“Like a peck kiss or like a full fledged make out kiss?” You pressed.

“I-I don’t know! Maybe a little bit of both? I was just following her lead, okay? Last time I kissed a person was back in sixth grade when Donny Humberford dared me to… it was unpleasant and quite honestly was my awakening that I never liked boys.”

You giggled as Steve went for his round of questions, the two of you taking turns like it was some sort of interrogation.

“Well, c’mon tell us, was this kiss at least pleasant.”

Robin sighed a sigh that sounded straight out of a rom-com, you could picture her kicking back her legs and looking so enamored by just the memory itself.

“The most pleasant kiss I think I’ll ever get.” She sing-songed cheerfully.

“What about if Phoebe Cates kissed you?” He challenged.

“Okay, woah, that’s totally unfair! Vickie and Phoebe are both hot babes!”

You jumped in again, this time with a very important question that needed to be answered. “Did you foot do the pop up thing?”

Stuttered words came from Steve, who had no idea what you were talking about. “The what? Is that some sort of sex thing?”

Robin snorted. “Ew no!”

“Steve!” You shrieked, covering your face.

“What?! You said foot and thing in the same sentence and that makes me think of some really gross stuff that I don’t even think the rated X section has.”

Robin gasped, slapping a hand over her mouth, “You’re totally right! Wait, do you think Keith stole all the foot fetish tapes?” She speculated seriously.

“What the hell is wrong with your boss?” Your face twisted up in horror.

“He’s a creep.”

Steve was next with a considerate yet weird warning, “Please, if you ever come to visit us, do not wear opened toed shoes at the store.”

“Jesus Christ, yeah, I’ll make sure I remember that. Anyways, the foot thing!”

“Oh yeah, the foot thing!” Robins snapped gleefully.

“Would someone just explain the goddamn foot thing?” Steve complained.

“You know! When you kiss someone you really really like and your foot does that little pop up thing because you’re enjoying it because it’s with them.” You tried your best to explain.

“Guys don’t really do it though… they pop something else, if you know what I mean.” Robin cracked with a laugh before Steve choked on his spit at the vulgary.

The line reduced to chortles, you and Robin dying at the joke, while Steve couldn’t help but smile, waiting for you both to settle.

“And you want to call me filthy?” He pointed out when it finally died down.

“No but seriously, she kissed me out of nowhere and I didn’t get the chance to really even process it and I’m just realizing that and, holy shit! I kissed Vickie!”

“She actually kissed you first but okay.” Steve corrected, though Robin didn’t seem to catch it.

“Vickie and I’s lips were pressed together! I felt her mouth on mine! Oh my god! I kissed Vickie!”

It wasn’t long before the call was filled with her squeals and screams, Robin completely forgetting about you and Steve while she remembered it all in her own world. Her heavy panting filled the line then, taking a breather from the screams and her recollection of every detail.

“Honey, do you wanna process that alone?” You suggested indulgently, hoping she would take you up on the offer because it really was a special moment you wanted her to process.

Thankfully she didn’t even hesitate. “Yeah, I gotta go!”

“Bye-bye now, don’t dream too much about it.” Steve sing-songed before she hung up with a heavy clunk.

The static rings through for a millisecond as she disconnects, before you and Steve are alone once again. Good-natured and proud laughter comes from both of you, so ecstatic for your friend.

“That’s adorable! I’m so happy for her!” You gushed with a squeal.

“I should’ve known something was up! She never calls out of work like that and doesn’t give a reason why.”

“I bet you she’s screaming into her pillow right now.”

“Or she could be pacing her room with her face in a pillow and screaming.” He added as you both agreed that it would be a very possible ‘Robin-thing-to-do.’

Steve seized the moment with a question of his own. “Have you ever done the foot thing?”

Laughter came out the second he finished the query, you just couldn’t help the fact that he was asking about that all of a sudden – not that you minded, but you just never imagined Steve Harrington asking about a corny foot pop.

“Now all I can think about is foot fetish.” You fake gagged.

“You’re so dirty minded! Okay, okay, has your foot ever done the pop thing…that’s better?”

“Much better,” You crooned, thinking for a moment about all the times in which you’ve been kissed with nothing sticking out, “And, no, I don’t think it’s ever happened to me.”

“Really?” He sounded surprised, as if it was some sort of shock that you’ve never experienced such a thing.

“The foot pop is, like, totally memorable, trust me.”

Steve was half regretful of bringing up such a dumb question, hoping it didn’t make you feel uncomfortable. The last thing he wanted was to remind you of your ex that he already knew you weren’t too fond of.

“Well who knows? Maybe one day right?” He put it out there into the universe, crossing his fingers that his optimist came through the way he wanted.

Your small laugh was all it took for him to know everything was just right. “One day.”

Perhaps it was the hour and the lack of sleep you had been getting for the past couple of days, but you let out a yawn, apologizing in the middle of it as Steve chuckled and told you not to worry about it.

“I should probably go… I need to get started on the cupcakes and package the cookies up.” You groaned, reality hitting as you looked around your place that was still a complete disaster, and didn’t magically clean itself up.

“Why don’t you call it a night huh? I’m sure you worked all day.”

Steve’s voice filled with the same concern as the beginning of the call, still not understanding why you were putting yourself through so much when you were already doing the best you could.

“Been up and moving since 7 a.m..” You yawned again, rubbing your eyes.

Steve shook his head, not that you could see him, but he was sure you must have felt his discontent for overworking yourself through the phone.

“You did so much work, you deserve a break.” He repeated sternly.

You rubbed your forehead, knowing he was more than right. “Yeah but then that means I’ll still have more work to do tomorrow and—”

“And I’ll come and pick you up and we can bake the rest of the stuff at my place. I’ll help and it’ll be a nice change of scenery for you.”

Steve was notorious for doing and saying things without using his head, oftentimes leading to horrible and awkward situations. But when it came to you, more times than not, everything he did and said was without thinking of himself and more for the best interest of you.

He knew you’d been bending over backwards for this event and the last thing he wanted you to do was go at it all alone. Steve knew you were more than capable of doing it all by yourself, but he didn’t want you to – not when he was there willing and able.

“Don’t you have the morning shift tomorrow?” You suspected, having both his and Robin’s schedule memorized by heart.

“Well Robin owes me so not anymore.” He retorted cheekily.

Sure, maybe he should have given Robin a break considering kissing Vicky to be an incredible milestone, but if he could survive a shift alone with Keith so could she. Plus, it was for you, so Robin couldn't be too upset if she wanted to.

“If you’re going to call out I don’t want to make you do more work.”

“You’re not making me, I want to.”

He’d do anything when it came to you without even second guessing it. There was something deep down inside of him hoping that you knew and understood that because he needed you to.

“You’re too good to me.” Your chest rose and fell, a happy breath that was a glimmer of hope to his ears that you knew.

He took his own breath, glancing over at the alarm clock on his bedside table, “Get some rest and I’ll be over in the morning.”

“I could drive there if you want? Save you some gas and let you sleep in a bit more.”

“I know you could, but I want to. So please?”

Why Steve was so generous when it came to you, you’d never really understand considering the mess you were. A part of you liked to think that you were the mess he wanted and there was nothing more you wanted to be than his.

“Y-yeah, sure, thank you.” You stuttered, gripping the phone tightly

“Get some sleep okay? You deserve it.” He cooed, a smile leaking through his voice that you could see even over the phone.

“I will.” You promised to smile at the thought of getting to see him so soon.

“Night sweetheart.”

“Night Stevie.”

Steve shouldn’t like the idea of waking up at the crack of dawn and proceeding to drive to a town an hour away on the one time he called out of work — but when it’s Roane and he’s coming for you, he loved the journey.

He felt more lively than ever even if he had woken up ten minutes before his alarm and ran out of instant coffee to make before he left. All of the little inconveniences didn't matter when he was taking the roads that led straight to you.

There’s a vast difference between the town he grew up in and yours. Hawkins should feel like home, and at times, it really is — his closest friends are there, but then again his parents always come back eventually. And when they do, it feels less than that — like him playing a game of hide and seek trying to avoid them until they go out of town again.

Sometimes there were moments where he just wished that they both packed up their things and relocated permanently so he could stop banking on the moment where they finally woke up and made an attempt to be an actual family — the one he still yearned for even after all of these years of disappointments.

It’s the harsh truth he’s had to face since he was a young teen realizing that they’d always come home, but never for him. A feeling of cruelty that reminded him that no matter how patient he was, his parents would never notice the way they’ve neglected him through the years.

He kept quiet, stayed hidden in plain sight when they were around knowing they could never make up for it — the damage had been done and his home was never going to be home as long as they were around.

But in hindsight, that’s why he enjoyed visiting Roane these days.

He didn’t have to hide or worry about running into one of his father’s friends from the office or his mother’s girlfriends, trying to uphold a conversation with them that he clearly didn’t want to be in. He knew close to nothing about his parents and their whereabouts and didn’t want to unless it was them coming home early and him needing to leave for the next few days.

In Roane there’s no one he’s hiding from… just someone he’s desperate to get to.

But of course an early morning in town isn’t complete without a pit stop at Taylor’s. He’d be damned if he showed up at your doorstep at this hour without a dozen cronuts and your favorite coffee.

He was welcomed with the chime above the door, inhaling the smell of freshly ground coffee and baked breads, a type of homeyness that could never be replicated unless it was coming from your kitchen.

Like second nature he knew what to get, an order of assorted cronuts, your rose latte with an extra pump of vanilla syrup, and his very plain iced mocha with an extra shot of caffeine to get him through, but he doubted he really needed it when you’d be there beside him the whole day.

“It’s going to be $19.89.” The cashier announced, ringing up the total and he nodded, reaching into his back pocket.

Flipping open his wallet, there was a giddy smile that spilled on his face. The yellow notepad paper folded up and placed within the clear pocket of the billfold, your handwriting reading ‘to: stevie <3’

It’s probably the worst way to store his most prized possession, but the damn thing got him through long work days and even longer ones at the arcade when Max and El begged for $5 to spare — he doesn’t mind them asking if every time he opens his wallet, he’s greeted by something that reminds him of you.

He probably looked like a psycho taking too long to grab a $20 bill with him distracted. Finally sliding the cash across the counter, he waited for his change before tucking it back into his wallet and stuffing the receipt into his pocket and stepping off to the side waiting for the drinks to be done.

“Steven!”

The greeting came from the woman walking through the front door, the chime of the bell above her not at all audible with her voice bellowing within the small space. She wore a big big smile, arms held out wide as she approached him.

He cracked a grin, letting her pull him in as he hugged her warmly. “Dorothea.”

She was just as lively at seven in the morning as she is at ten at night at the diner.

“I haven’t seen you around in a while. You two haven’t stopped seeing each other already have you?” She lifted a weary brow, voice laced with a bit of teasing.

Steve shook his head, shyly smiling at her insinuation of what you two had going on. “I’ve just been working a lot, these days. I’m going to see her right now, just came by to pick up some breakfast for us.” He gestured towards the counter of packaged goodies.

“Aren’t you such a gentleman? You know if I could clone ya, I would!” She pinched his cheek playfully.

God, she reminded him of his great grandmother he hadn’t seen since he was seven.

“That’s uh…very sweet of you. Thank you.” Steve smiled sincerely, hoping he didn’t look too strained.

She gripped onto his arm, squeezing as she smiled from ear to ear. “Well tell her I said hello! She hasn’t been to the diner in a while, must be locked up in her apartment painting or something.”

“That and baking.” Steve replied with a proud grin. “She’s in charge of a booth at the Hawkins market tomorrow.”

“No kidding?” She tilted her head, strikingly, always amazed at the amount of things you were able to juggle.

“You should come, she’ll be happy to see some familiar faces around.” He extended the invite warmly, cursing himself for not having a flyer on hand to give her in case.

“Order for Steve.”

He gave her another smile, “Hope we see you there,”

“I’ll try my best, pumpkin! You two enjoy your breakfast, now.”

And he was off, back on track to his destination with the goods secured knowing it would make your morning better even if you were not so much an early bird. It’s little things like this that he knew he could do to make your day a little less stressful especially since he anticipated plenty of baking for the next few hours.

But he hoped with his presence you’d find it in yourself to not put so much pressure on yourself. He was there for a reason, wanted to give you a hand and take some of it off your plate so that you could relax a bit.

Sure, he didn’t really know much about baking, but he was willing to learn for you.

The drive to your place was short, not too far away from the cafe. Your apartment complex was tucked away from the main parts of town, hidden just a few miles away from Taylor’s and the diner.

It was a quiet yet cozy neighborhood, everything about it screamed your name.

Flowers of all kinds littered the boulevard, bright yellows and pinks peeking out through the tall green grass and dancing in the sun, accompanied with a light breeze of air as he drove by.

Stray kittens and puppies roamed the sidewalk like community pets, nuzzling up against the ankles of children who walked hand in hand with their parents and siblings towards the bus stop for school.

Tall oak trees that had been standing for years lined the sidewalks housing birds and their babies on branches where they also got the best view of the sunrise at their peaks.

Elderly couples mingled with others, dressed in their cozy morning attire and some still in their pajamas hoping to get some exercise in the summer nice weather that would soon be replaced with autumn.

Quite frankly this place held everything and more that Steve wanted for his life. The atmosphere filled with some sort of magic potion that had him wanting to stay forever if it meant that he got to walk these same sidewalks and drive down the same roads with you by his side.

It was stupid and far-fetched idea considering the circumstances he was in, but he’d still like to think that someday this would be the place he called home. Somewhere where he didn’t have to just watch happy people living their lives with the ones they loved, but where he could be doing the same too.

“Here we are.” Steve whistled, turning his wheel into the complex a few blocks away from the main homes.

He was glad you lived on the ground floor, not because it would save him time to take all the items into yours, but because your place greeted him through the windshield every time he pulled up and placed his car into park next to yours.

Your front porch, while not having much space, was still decorated with everything that made you, you.

Fresh herbs planted in a small basin that sat on the railing of the entrance and a trellis of green vines resting against the wall beside your front door. There was a welcome mat placed at the doorstep along with a pair of gardening boots that were too big your size, an attempt to scare off potential burglars who want to mess with a hypothetical giant with a size 10 foot — Steve laughed like a maniac when you told him about that.

He shut the car off, reaching for the coffees and juggling the box in one hand as he shut the door with his hip and approached your front door steps.

Setting down his drink, he brought his fists up to the door knocking firmly. “Sweetheart, it’s me!”

He waited, listening to hear your voice call out for him followed by your footsteps thudding against the wooden floors as you ran towards the door, but all he heard was silence. Not even the sound of music playing through your record player or the morning news on your television.

Just pure silence.

He frowned, knocking again this time a little louder. “You in there? It’s Steve.”

Still no answer.

He pressed his ear to the door, complete silence, not even a peep of water running from the shower which confirmed his suspicion that you were still very much asleep. Though he wasn’t surprised, you were probably in bed sleeping soundly after all the work you did yesterday.

Steve set the items down on the porch, looking around the area until his eyes landed on the pot tucked away in the corner — it was a fake succulent where you planted a spare key. He tried to tell you how unsafe it was to keep a key out there in the open but you claimed no one would try to pluck a key out of a creepily real looking cactus.

Smart girl you were.

“Gotcha.” He smirked, plucking the key away from the bottom of the pot and approaching the door with it in hand.

“I’m coming in, cupcake.” Steve called out one last time with a knock. A warning, hopeful that you finally had woken up but to no avail there was still silence.

He sighed, sticking the key into the lock and turning it open and carefully pushing the door in not wanting to startle you. But alas, he didn’t think that it was even possible when you were cramped up on the couch sleeping soundly.

“Oh, christ.” He said under his breath, quietly stopping in his tracks.

You had a blanket partially pulled over yourself keeping you warm enough to bear the entire night. Your hair was sprawled out across the cushions, strands resting along your cheeks. You slept like a baby, curled up in an awkward yet comfortable position.

Steve quickly picked up the coffees and baked goods, shutting the door as quietly as possible as he toed off his shoes and rested the items onto the coffee table.

He looked towards the kitchen, finally aware of the sheer magnitude of work you had been doing. Sure it was a bit of a mess, but he was relieved a bit to know that you got some rest like he suggested.

“Sweetheart,” Steve whispered softly, bending at the couch where he shook your shoulders gently.

You only stirred, keening as you nuzzled yourself deeper into the cushions, eyes pinching tighter to stay asleep. He felt terrible for having to be the one to wake you up, but it had to be done.

“Honey, it’s almost seven… you gotta get up.” He spoke a tad louder, brushing back your hair out of your face until you pressed your cheek to his hand, gluing it there so he couldn’t move.

“Hmmm, no it’s not.” You argued sleepily with your eyes still closed, licking your lips as you remained comfortable.

You were cute even at this early hour and he would have loved to let you stay in bed but he knew it would throw off your entire game plan and have you rushing more than you already were.

“C’mon doll,” He shook you again, this time with enough firmness to get your eyes pinching and peaking open.

He gave you a small smile, mouthing ‘good morning,’ as you stared blankly at him, not a single thought behind your tired eyes other than it had to have been a dream that felt too real.

“I had to use the key to get in… you fell asleep out here last night.” His voice was faint, not wanting to rudely pour all this information on you so early in the morning.

Clear confusion accompanied the tiredness, just starting to really wake up and fathom that Steve was hovering above you and it wasn’t a trick your brain was playing on you..

“W-what?” You yawned, shutting your eyes again and giving them a rub.

“It’s 7 in the morning, sweet thing. You overslept a little.” His thumb moved up to caress the skin under your eyes, soothing your harsh rubbing.

You moaned out an objection, shaking your head against his hand, “No, I didn’t.”

He laughed, shaking his head at your positivity before finally pulling his hand from your cheek to lift his sleeve and hover the watch over your face.

“Look, honey.”

It took you a second, eyes still clouded with fatigue as you squinted up at the hands of the clock. Slowly you began to process it, the short hand pointing sharply at the 7 and the mere fact that Steve was in fact before your eyes with the purest look of fondness despite the hour.

“Holy shit!” Your eyes widened, pushing the blankets off yourself in a haste and sitting up.

“It’s okay—”

Your eyes darted to him, frowning deeply, torn between embarrassment and stupidity for having him wait out there for god knows how long.

“I swear I set a timer for fifteen minutes,” you huffed, pointing towards the coffee table for the stupid kitchen timer that he proceeded to pick up and shake.

“I was supposed to take out the trash and pack up the cookies.” You explained, watching as he sat it back down and gave you a reassuring shake of his head, unbothered by the situation.

“It’s okay, maybe you just didn’t hear it.” He tried, hoping you would give yourself the benefit of the doubt instead of beating yourself up.

You took a deep breath, offering a tight smile as you patted the space next to you and gathered the blankets over your shoulders. He took a seat, getting comfortable beside you, watching how you closed the space until your knees were knocking against each other.

“I’m really so sorry… were you waiting long?” You glanced over to him.

He shook his head, reaching over to brush your hair over your shoulder. “Nope, I just got here. Thought I told you to rest up last night?”

“You did,” You said guilty, watching his hand drop back down to his lap, “Buuut I just wanted to get a few more things done and I was supposed to have a power nap then clean the place up.”

You combed your fingers through the roots of your head, resting your elbows on your knees as you realized the mess was still very much there and Steve had to be here to witness the catastrophe.

Just as quickly as his hand dropped to his lap, it came back out to rest over your knee, fingers rubbing assuringly as he gave you a sequence of squeezes to get you looking at him again.

“S’okay, you needed it.” He assured you, his touches never ceasing as his chin poked out towards the coffee table. “I got you some coffee and your favorite.”

Sure enough there was a box of piping hot cronuts filling your apartment with their decadence, and a cup of your favorite morning drink rested right beside his half finished one.

Steve’s generosity was something you never thought you could get used to, but by now you should’ve known that he always went above and beyond… at least for you.

“You didn’t have to.” You whispered thankfully, closing your eyes as you tilted your head onto his shoulder.

He slotted closer to you, keeping his thumbs rubbing your skin in random patterns as you felt him shake his head against yours, simply murmuring, “I wanted to,” in the quiet space.

For once, in the last few days that you spent in the haze of stress and anxiety, today felt like the calmest morning you had all week. Despite you nearly burning your apartment down and falling asleep in the living room in less than 24 hours, with Steve here, it seemed like he brought some sort of magical potion that had you thinking everything was going to be okay.

It was difficult for your heart to swell and get tight in the confines of your chest when you realized that peace could be this. The two of you spending mornings like this, even when you were the farthest thing from peace – maybe it was him who could give it to you.

The two of you sat around for a few minutes in complete silence, just enjoying each other's presence for what it was worth right now. Something about it felt domesticated in the best way possible, knowing the simplest things in life like this were free.

“I’m gonna go shower really quick.” You announced, slowly pulling away from his side and stretching your arms out.

He retracted his hand from your skin, being the first to stand up, “I’ll put your coffee in the fridge for now.” Steve headed towards the kitchen with your drink in hand.

Your feet continued across the floors padding towards your bedroom, bed still freshly made having not slept on it the night before. Sure your back should have been aching from sleeping on the less than suitable couch, but you got the rest you needed and that’s what mattered.

You pulled open your closet, settling for a loose dress to sport instead of jeans knowing they’d probably be covered in flour and sugar by the end of the day. You pulled your towel from the hanger on your door and walked across the hall towards the bathroom.

Catching a glance at yourself in the mirror, you looked exhausted — the clear fatigue that had been building up over the last couple of days settled and ended up with the after effects of the burnout showing on your skin. A cold shower was what you needed, icy water cascading your body, doing its very best to wake you up and rid you of the exhaustion.

You didn’t keep Steve waiting long, out of the shower in less than fifteen minutes and by then you could hear the slight clambering of dishes coming from the kitchen.

“Have you eaten yet?” You shouted loud enough to hear, combing your fingers through your semi-damp ends.

More clambering came through the door, before you heard a loud dramatically loud scoff, “Without you? Of course not!”

You grinned in the mirror, rolling your eyes at his quick wit before finally shutting off the lights and heading down the hallway to see what he was up to.

Once you got him in sight, his hands were drying the dishes in the rack and there was no longer the clutter of the dirty ones in the sink. He stacked the mixing bowls on top of one another before noticing your presence lingering behind him.

“I took out the trash and did some dishes. Didn’t want to get started without you.” He hung the damp towel over the oven handle before gesturing over to the empty trash can that was once overflowing.

“Steve, you’re a guest.” You chastised, going around the kitchen to pick up the small bits of trash that stuck around.

“A considerate one at the least.” He shrugged his shoulders, following you around like a lost puppy and offering his hand out to take the remnants of the garbage from you to toss into the bin himself.

“Well, thank you.” You grinned, moving around him to throw it in trash, before he grunted out a snicker.

“C’mon let’s sit down and eat before we get going.”

He had already brought some plates out, moving next to the drawers to grab some utensils. For whatever reason, warmth bloomed in your heart, happy to see that Steve was just as comfortable in your home as you were in his. Simplicity in him knowing where things were was a sort of happiness you couldn’t explain.

You bit your lip, walking over to the fridge to open it before looking over your shoulder. “Did you want me to make some more food?”

He shook his head, opening the box of cronuts and fishing two out for the both of you. “I’m okay, but I could whip up some scrambled eggs for you?”

He looked up from the sweets, seeing you nod your head with a desperate look on your face as you held your stomach. Last night you hadn’t eaten much so you really needed to make up for it by having a hearty meal to set you up for the rest of the day's work.

“Coming right up.” He drummed his fingers off the dining table, as you switched places.

The kitchen was soundly, not much with chatter this early in the morning, but with the sizzling from the pan as Steve poured in the eggy mixture and the soft buzz of the toaster oven where you warmed up the cronuts. It wasn’t like the morning at Steve’s where you waltzed around the kitchen — it was much slower, yet filled with the same amount of domesticity.

Steve could tell you were still tired, the grogginess seeping slowly out of your bones the more you sipped on your coffee and tapped your toes against the tiles watching the oven closely. You weren’t trying to hide it from him on purpose, but he noticed that with every small yawn you let out, you turned away from him, trying to brush it off with a headshake.

He didn’t put a spotlight on it though, just happily smiling to himself as he stirred the eggs and watched you in his peripheral vision. The high pitched ding rang through the small space and you sighed contently, slipping on the oven mitt and reaching for a pair of tongs to grab the pastries, plating them nicely on two plates.

“You can start eating if you want.” He insisted, turning his head to follow you when you skimmed past him

You hummed disapprovingly, setting them on the coffee table before making your way back to him,“No, come on I’ll wait for you. Let me wash the–”

He lunged over, getting in the way of you turning on the faucet, “Stop it, you’re gonna overwork yourself.”

You huffed at the absurdity of the situation, seeing as though he was the one who was already overworking himself and it was barely 8 in the morning.

“I’ve barely done anything all morning.” You argued with a light laugh, attempting to get past his arms and switch the water on.

Still he stood his ground, not letting your pushing move him with your nudges, “Considering the amount of work you did last night, you shouldn't be doing anything right now.”

You crossed your arms over your chest tilting your head at him. “You’re not gonna give up, are you?”

He shook his head, pointing back at the living room with the spatula still in hand. “Not a chance! Now go sit down, I’ll be there in a second.”

“Fine!” You drawled, heavily stomping your foot down and turning on your heel back to the living room.

Steve’s eyes never left yours, even when his back was turned to you, he could feel you attempting to tidy up your living room in the slightest way, to which he simply bellowed, “sit and relax,” before you were shuffling back into the couch cushions, mumbling how he had eyes on the back of his head like a mother would to which he laughed.

The kids would certainly agree.

After a few minutes, you heard the burner shut off, and his footsteps walking over to you.

“Breakfast is served.” he announced, setting the eggs in front of you.

“You’re an angel.” You looked at him, grinning as he handed you a fork from where it was hiding behind his back.

“I’m flattered.” He took a seat beside you and picked up his plate, “So tell me what’s the plan for today.”

You took a bite out of your eggs, chewing and swallowing them down. “Yesterday I made the frosting for the cupcakes so today we’re gonna make them and ice them.”

“What flavor?”

“Maple and Raspberry.”

His face twisted, lips curled up before he spoke, “I’ve never heard of that combination before.”

“No silly,” You covered your mouth from giggling, “The maple frosting is for the brown sugar cupcakes and the raspberry frosting is for the hibiscus cupcakes, but they also do have a little bit of raspberry in them.”

His bottom lip jutted out over his top one, nodding at your correction, before he lifted a playful brow at you. “But can’t you tell I trust you so much that I thought Maple and Raspberry would be good together?”

Steve trusted you more than he trusted himself which said a lot considering that he was usually pretty set and stone with the way he did things in his own life. After all, his parents didn't play a big role in his so he had to figure out a lot of it by himself. But when it came to you, trust came easy knowing you wouldn’t drop his hand if you told him you wouldn’t. That was the territory between you both, promising and keeping your word – never letting the other fall.

“If we have any extras maybe we can test it out.” You suggested with a nudge of your elbow into his arm as the two you both smiled and continued to eat.

“How was work yesterday? I didn’t get the chance to ask you over the phone.” You shifted your knees towards him.

His face covered with mock horror, while you playfully gasped, watching him set his plate down.“Hell. I honestly think it was the most grueling eight hours of my life.”

“It couldn’t be that bad.” You tried to reason with disbelief in your voice, because really, how bad could it have been?

“Being forced to work a shift with Keith is literal hell. I mean for one he could not shut up and for someone who claims they love movies, he just kept talking over all of the stupid tapes I put on to try to shut him out.” Steve rolled his eyes at the recollection, so thrilled that he wasn’t stuck in the same predicament today.

“And isn’t Robin working with him today?” You stifled your laughter, for your dear friend who was probably dealing with Keith all by herself right now.

There was a devious smirk replacing his distaste for yesterday realizing he had planned it accordingly without realizing.

“Yep, but she’s got a half day so technically she’s only spending half a day in hell with him.”

“You’re horribly considerate for someone who was upset that she called out for a girl.”

Steve shrugged nonchalantly, knowing he couldn’t be too upset at Robin. After all, she was his best friend and sure he was pissed for having to work with Keith, but he was happy that she finally got to spend time with Vicky, the same girl she had been pining over since forever.

“Had I known it was for Vicky I would’ve called out too and came down here to help out sooner, but I thought she caught the flu or something.” He turned his nose up, happier that his best friend didn’t catch anything bad except the love bug.

Your face contorted with irritation at yourself, waving your hand in the air, “Trust me when I say you’d be glad you skipped out on the mess yesterday.”

He didn’t skip a beat, shaking his head at you being ridiculous because he’d never miss out a chance to be with you.

“I wouldn’t have minded anyway.”

While his words were true, and you definitely believed that he wouldn’t have minded considering he cleaned up the place while you were showering, you felt a little hopeless knowing he was picking up the pieces when he didn’t have to.

“You know I still feel a little bad that you’re spending your day off helping me bake.” You placed the plate onto the table, letting your shoulders sulk deeper with your hands twiddling in your lap.

“Why?” He lifted his brows, genuinely confused at why you would feel bad for him where there was nowhere else he’d rather be.

You gave him a small shrug, looking up at him with uncertainty. “Because you should be doing something you want to do or better yet resting in bed preferably.”

He hated when you tried to look out for him more than yourself, immediately taking your nervous fingers away from your lap and holding them in his. You stared at him, holding on tight and wondering what was going to come out of his mouth.

“I am doing something I want to do with the person I prefer to be with right now.”

There was a twinge of vulnerability in his tone and you could see the way it painted his features whole. How you could tell, he was telling the truth about wanting to be here with you and not just doing it because he felt obligated to.

Your heart was seriously going to break itself out of your chest soon.

“You’re gonna regret saying that once I turn your kitchen into a disaster.” You joked, squeezing his hand in yours and not letting go.

He pursed his lips, shaking your comment off, preparing for the said disaster in his kitchen as long as you were going to be there. Becoming a deadweight with his hand in yours, you easily pulled his arm up, neck adjusting to get the time on his watch.

“If I’m planning it out in my head correctly then we should be done by this afternoon and that way you can drop me off before traffic hits and I’ll drive down tomorrow morn—”

“Pack a bag and spend the night.”

“Huh?”

“Just stay the night at mine that way you won’t need to drive down so early for the farmers market.” He explained like you should’ve known it was the plan all along.

You couldn’t help but throw your head back, staring at the ceiling as you called out his name in faux exasperation.

“Steveeeee.”

“What?” He pursed his lips slyly, pulling you by the shoulders to get you looking at him again, “you’ll get to spend a few extra minutes in bed and you’ll be saving gas. Basically killing two birds with one stone.”

“But I don’t want to be stuck in your hair the entire day.” You protested.

His brows lifted suspiciously as his lips twitched up trying to resist the grin, “Woah, you plan on gluing yourself to me or something? Cause if you are, I don’t know if I could forgive you for messing up my mane.”

“You’re impossible,” You nudge his shoulder with a weak fist failing to hide your smile, “I don’t want to be a burden. What if you have plans?”

“I do have plans, silly.” He began, reaching for your hand and rubbing his thumbs across your open palms, “and all of them involve you.”

“You know you’re making this very hard for me to decline.” You attempted to harden your features, but to no avail the smile crept through.

He patted your knee with a victorious look on his face. “Good. We can spend the day baking and prepping then we can sit back and relax. Maybe go out by the pool and sunbathe… Oh! And I got a new tape so we can watch it before bed or something.”

“Sounds tempting.” You fizzled through your teeth, squinting your eyes decisively.

“That means it’s working and you should say yes.” He whispered, like a voice of reason.

“Okay.”

“Great, now go pack a bag.” He patted your leg, one, two, three times before standing up and gathering your empty plates in a stack.

“Will you do me a favor while I do that?” You stood, trailing behind him into the kitchen where he was placing the dishes in the sink.

“Yes, I’ll wash the dishes—”

“No, not that!” You laughed, gesturing him towards the counters where a rack of cookies sat alongside other crafty materials. “I need you to package the cookies in little plastic baggies and tie them off with ribbon.”

“I can definitely do that, too.”

“I got a few done last night but fell asleep before I could finish.” You picked an example up, showing it to him.

“Don’t worry about it, I can do the rest.” He took the baggie from your hands, ushering you away with a shoo of his hands.

You thanked him before heading back into your bedroom quickly grabbing the canvas bag that hung above your door as you sifted through your drawers and closet for some clothes.

You picked out a floral dress for tomorrow's event, and settled for an extra set of intimates — you packed an oversized tee and some jeans in case but you knew Steve would let you borrow some of his if you needed and he still had your pair of overalls that he hadn’t given back yet.

“Do I double knot them?” Steve called out.

“Yeah and you can snip the ends to make them even!”

“Got it, thanks!”

You slung the bag over your shoulder, drawing the curtains and unplugging your lamp just in case since you’d be gone for the night… maybe even the entire weekend. The only thing left to pack was your skincare products, throwing them in a small pouch and making a mental note to set them on the bathroom counter when you got to his to prevent any from leaking out onto your clothes.

Steve finished off tying the last baggie of cookies, bunny earring them and snipping off little bits of the ends to try to make them look as cute as your sample did.

“What do you think?” He held his work of art up as he heard your footsteps coming closer.

You grinned, holding your hands out before he plopped it into your palm while you inspected it.

“They’re adorable!” You giggled, smoothing the frayed edges of the cut ribbon.

“Are you trying to be nice? You can tell me if they look bad.” He pouted, attempting to take it back from you to redo the bow knowing you took pride in anything that was yours.

You shook your head, keeping it towards your chest and away from him. “No, I’m serious! They look so cute, thank you for doing them.”

His cheek was met with a quick kiss, before you brushed past him putting down your things on the living floor before sauntering back into the kitchen with a mission to get everything ready to go.

“Y-you’re welcome,” He coughed out, kindly covering the crack in his voice with a sweet smile before he turned to watch you, “Anything else I can do?”

“Stop being so nice.” You poked out your tongue, beginning to pack the cookies into a brown bag for easier transportation.

He huffed, helping you without being asked, “Now that would turn me into Mike and I don’t think you’d want that.”

“Do you have some vendetta against him or something?” You questioned, hands hitting his with every grab and toss.

“Oh we all do” He snorted, swiftly sweeping the bag away from you, before pulling the keys out of his pocket.

“I’ll go put your stuff in my car.”

He proceeded to grab the rest of your belongings, lugging the bag you packed and the other stuff to his car all in one go. You triple checked all the appliances making sure everything was unplugged and turned off before you began drawing all the curtains to completely dim the place for the next couple of days.

“Ready to go?”

“Yep, just gonna grab the paintings.” You nodded, pointing to the small crate full of finished canvas that you would be selling at the market.

He didn’t let you even try, immediately beating you the distance and grabbing the box, holding it on his hip as he held the front door open for you. Sticking by your side as he watched you lock up, being your second eyes and even pulling on the handle for an extra precautionary measure.

The air conditioning had been running, thankfully cooling down the vehicle as you buckled in and watched from the rear view mirror while Steve closed the trunk shut and rounded his way into his seat and did the same.

“Why don’t you close your eyes until we get to my place?” He suggested, glancing over to you while turning on the radio trying to find a station you would enjoy.

A dramatic gasp left your lips as you slapped down his visor, opening the mirror to check yourself out. “Wow, do I look that tired?” You half joked, placing your hands on your cheeks in horror.

“Stop, that’s not what I meant,” He chuckled, reaching over to flip it back into place with a tight regretful smile, “What I meant to say was you didn’t get much sleep last night and it could help a little bit to just close your eyes before doing more work today.”

“But I feel bad, you’ll probably be so bored in complete silence.”

He wondered if you always worried about him this much and while it was cute, he’d have to tell you to stop eventually, because worrying would do you no good, especially if it was about him.

“You know, you’re gonna need to stop feeling bad for me all the time.” He lectured, tilting his head at you.

“I can’t help it when you’re stuck with me.”

“Will you please just try to nap at least?” His voice was more optimistic and you nodded skeptically.

“Fine, but you have to wake me up if you get bored.”

“Deal. Here, this’ll be more comfy.” He said, leaning across the console and reaching for the lever to lean your chair back all the way for max comfortability. You covered your face, laughing behind them as you wiggled and got comfier in the seat.

“Comfier?” He brought his hands back to the wheel, watching as you nodded your head with closed eyes.

“Way better than my couch.” You mumbled, positioning yourself towards him, still getting snug in the confines of his car.

He pulled up the emergency break, beginning the journey with one last look at you. “I’ll wake you up when we get there, sweetheart.”

Steve knew you were a natural in the kitchen — ran that place like it was your second home, but what he didn’t anticipate was how you worked when it came to strictly baking. Perhaps him suggesting the nap on the drive to his place was a great idea considering the fact that you were wide awake and running on that coffee he picked up.

He could barely keep up, straying behind to wherever you would go — oven, pantry, fridge, sink, repeat. It was endearing and far from something that Steve would categorize as chaos, in his eyes this was your comfort, somewhere it all just came to you naturally, which also included dishing out tasks, ones that Steve was happy to take up.

His bottom lip was pulled between his teeth, brows scrunching towards the center of his forehead while his hands squeezed the piping bag and wrists swirled it slowly around the tops of the cupcakes.

You bent at the hips, looking through the glass window of the oven checking up on the loaves that had been baking, making sure they were rising properly. Standing up straight, you dusted your hands sneaking up behind Steve to catch a glimpse from over his shoulders.

“You’re doing great!” You whispered cheerfully, not wanting to throw him off his focus.

His shoulders only bumped as he chuckled, head tilting abruptly to the side before finishing off the swirl and setting the piping bag down.

“It’s a little crooked don’t you think?” Steve frowned, picking up the treat and holding it out in front of him.

You shook your head, rubbing his shoulders, “They’re perfect and you’re a complete pro already.”

“Okay now that’s a reach.” He placed it down, turning to you with an unconvinced yet charming grin.

You tucked your cheek into your shoulder, shrugging, “What? I’m being serious! I messed up like a whole dozen cupcakes before I ever got good and here you are only three in and they’re gorgeous.”

“You’re really making me consider switching careers to part time cupcake piper you know that?”

“I’ll hire you on the spot.”

“Geez, offer a man some insurance first.”

Your face twisted apologetically before spreading with a self indulgently smile, “Probably can’t do that, but I can assure you I know how to properly dress a cut if you end up slicing your hand open!” You chirped sweetly, tapping his cheek with an affectionate pat chuckling against your touch.

The ding of the timer set off, prompting you to turn around and make your way back to the oven, slipping on the mits. A gush of hot air enveloped you as you took out the hot loafs, setting them on the stove. Quickly you shut the door, tossing off the mits as you inspected them with your eyes first.

“How do they look?” Steve asked, coming beside you as you poked the tip of a knife through the center checking if it was baked all the way through.

A quick second to examine the knife to ensure there was no residue was all it took before you nodded, “Wonderful, but they’ll look even better once I glaze them.”

“What do you need?” He rose his brows heading over to the cabinets ready to get whatever you needed.

Likewise you went towards the fridge, “Powdered sugar and preferably whole milk — ah ha! Whole milk it is.” you clicked your tongue, peeking past the door to see him looking through the tins and bags.

He cursed under his breath, closing the door a bit to meet your eyes. “I don’t think I’ve got any powdered sugar in here. I should've asked you last night if you needed anything before.”

You shook your head, turning back towards the fridge, “That’s okay, we can go to the store together later?” You suggested going to put the milk back.

He snapped his fingers, pointing at you. “Better idea, why don’t you go now and I’ll stay back and finish frosting up these cupcakes, hmm?”

“I could wait for you, I don’t need to frost them right away.”

“You need a break, sweetheart. I’ll be fine, here,” He paused, walking out of the kitchen with you trailing behind him into the living room, “Take my car and let me give you some cash.”

“Steve, I don’t need your money.” You countered with a light chuckle, taking the keys from him as he reached into his pocket shaking his head.

“No seriously, take it and get whatever you need. I feel like shit for not asking before and making sure I had all the ingredients.”

He truly felt horrible and you could tell in the way he scrunched his brows and shook his head more at himself than towards you. The last thing he wanted was to fuck up your whole process that he knew you always took the time to run through effortlessly.

“You’re already doing enough, you know.” You remind him with a tender rub to his shoulder, “It means a lot…you talking to me over the phone, bringing breakfast over this morning, and taking all the way here to make sure I wasn’t lonely.”

It was a true sentiment that you spoke and meant every word of. You were sure that no amount of baked goods or thank yous would ever be enough to show Steve how grateful you were.

“I wanted to, you’ve done so much for everyone, me especially.” He knew you went out of your way for everyone including himself, putting everyone first except you.

“Well, I wanted to.” You assured him.

“In that case, I want you to take this and get whatever we need. Please?” He placed the bills in the palm of your hand, smiling when you nodded and palmed it.

“Do you want anything specific? I think I’m just gonna pick up a bag of powdered sugar and a small thing of white chocolate chips for the scones.” You picked up your purse you had thrown onto the coffee table where you arrived.

He shook his head, walking you to the front door and pulling it open, waiting as you slipped back on your footwear. “I’m alright, I don’t need anything. Just drive safely and don’t be scared to use the horn if you need it.”

You let out a laugh, tiptoeing and placing a kiss on his cheek, “I will and don’t stress about the cupcakes, they already look perfect.”

As you buckled your seatbelt and adjusted the mirrors, you took one more look out the windshield, waving a “see you in a bit,” to the boy watching from the driveway. It was funny to think that the first time you’d been there, you had been sitting in your own car anticipating the entire moment of meeting everyone and now you were there in his car knowing you’d be back in no time.

Hawkins wasn’t new territory to you. You have frequented the place for years, but it was just a little funny that throughout all the years, these roads never led you to Steve, and all your friends for that matter, until now.

The grocery store you walked into was the same one where you met Robin and from there the rest was history. Funny enough, you hadn’t been there since that interaction — it felt like forever but at the same time it had only been a matter of weeks. Time was silly thing, and it just so happened that all the fates aligned in some magical way.

You strolled through the aisles with a small basket in hand, picking up the necessities while also checking out what they had in stock this time of year. It was in the produce section that you ran into the sweetest lady in town, Joyce, who was seemingly glaring at the tower of apples debating on which ones to pick.

“Granny Smiths, Fuji, and Galas are the go-to if you’re gonna use them for baking, but if not then any will do, just make sure none of them have noticeable dents.”

You snuck up beside her, stifling your laughter as she jumped for the initial scare, then again, but with a smile on her face when she realized that it was you.

“Honey! Oh my god, I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever!” She quickly engulfed you in a hug, before you finally greeted her properly.

“Are you here with Steve?” She asked, looking around to see if he was nearby.

You shook your head, checking out the pile of apples and picking some for you and him as a snack.. “No, he’s actually back at his place frosting cupcakes for tomorrow.”

An impressed smile was plastered on her face, her cheeks lifting with a cheeky blush, “He’s just the best huh?” she teased, as you giggled and rolled your eyes playfully.

“Who’s the best?”

The deep voice bellowed a few feet behind you, prompting you to look over your shoulder, and down came Hopper sporting a surprising pale pastel button up, lugging two boxes of Coca-Cola. He gave you a pointed look, something that silently said, “please don’t comment on my non-work attire,” to which you honored, obviously.

“Hey Hop,” You waved, reaching out to give him a small hug after he placed the drinks into the cart. He patted your arm, before letting his drape over your shoulder as you laughed and let him be.

“We were talking about Steve,” Joyce started, “He’s back at home helping her out with the bake sale for tomorrow.”

He peered down on you with a stern nod, “Well isn’t that great. Drove down here yourself? Car not giving you any issue right?”

He really was a dad right down to his core. If you told him how you’ve been avoiding driving your car for the past couple of days, he would probably suggest he go check it out then and there.

“Oh no, Steve actually picked me up this morning and let me take his car to come here for some stuff we needed.”

“He let you drive his car?” He questioned, taken aback and clearly so as he dropped his arm and propped it up on his hip.

“I know, crazy right. He has a lot of trust in me.” You coughed up a laugh, while Joyce piped in something about how she thought it was sweet of him to do.

“Says a lot considering he never even lets me take her for a spin.” He shook his head, dramatically clicking his tongue at all the times he had failed to get the keys to the Harrington vehicle.

Joyce groaned, tilting her head at him.“That’s because you’re a forty year old man that drives like a drunk sixteen year old on prom night.”

“Ouch!” He shouted, face coated in fake hurt as she brushed him off.

Turning her attention back to you when you asked, “Will I be seeing you guys tomorrow?”

She smiled brightly, clapping her hands towards herself, “Oh of course! I’m helping Karen run her book exchange booths.”

“And I am acting as security.” Hop announced, plucking an apple and taking a bite out of it.

“Just you? Where’s the rest of your unit?” You pestered him jokingly.

He only shrugged, mouth full of half chewed up apples as he replied.“I have no idea, but the event will need some securing.”

“Honey, it’s a farmers market. I don't think there’s anything to be securing.” Joyce reasoned.

“We’ll see about that.” He shot back with no harm.

Their bickering was always light hearted and fun, something you could appreciate because it was the laughter that always kept the relationship lively. And in any relationship for that matter, laughter was like the heartbeat to it all, something so witty, but essential — you wondered if you and Steve sounded like that from time to time.

You took a deep breath, smiling as you opened your arms, and reached over to give Joyce a farewell hug.

“Well I should get going, I don’t want to be gone too long.”

“Of course, tell Steve we said hello and we’ll see you all tomorrow.”

“Will do!” You said, pulling away, and doing the same to Hopper.

“Bye kid.” He patted your head before letting you go your separate way.

The drive back home was as pleasant as the drive over, just lacking in company. You didn’t think that you’d get used to driving Steve's car without him being there in the passenger, but still, it was a thoughtful offer and it did give yourself some time to clear your head of all the stress that you endured yesterday though much of it was already gone since you woke up this morning.

You placed it in park when you got into his driveway, grabbing all the grocery bags in one go before you exited the car and made sure it was locked up. The front door was surprisingly unlocked, meaning Steve hadn’t moved since you left. You’d lecture him about leaving the door unlocked when there were freshly frosted cupcakes that burglars would most definitely take first.

“Steve, I’m back!” You called out, toeing off your sandals at the foyer before you made your way into the living room dropping his keys back onto the coffee table.

“Still in the kitchen!”

You lugged the bags along, lifting them in the air as you walked through the doorway.

“I know you told me you didn’t want anything but I ended up grabbing a bag of tangerines and I was thinking we could make some drinks for when we go out to the — oh my god!”

They fell with a heavy clunk to the ground and thank goodness there wasn’t any glass in there, but the poor apples would definitely be bruised. Steve turned his head over his shoulder, quickly shutting off the water as you stared at the loaves sitting on a raised plate as the excess icing dripped off the sides.

“Sur-prise?” He cracked a nervous smile, wiping his hands dry, hoping to receive the right reaction from you.

“You iced the loaves?!”

If your tone came sharper than you meant, he didn’t notice it and neither did you. Steve was too busy watching the surprise wash over your features — the way your eyes widened and mouth hung open.

He leaned against the counters, still watching you until your eyes finally met his. Picking up the index card you had brought from home, and walking over to the pantry, pulling out a now empty bag of powdered sugar, and placing them on the counter.

“I may or may not have lied about the powdered sugar but yeah, I read the recipe card and followed it to the tee.”

He paused, opening a drawer to retrieve a spoon, scooping up a little of the excess that dripped into a bowl before handing it over to you, “Here, give it a taste, please.”

You could tell he was nervous, eyes leaking anticipation while he held it out, his hands nearly shaking. It was cute that he got so nervous, like you could ever be mad at him for trying his hand at something so thoughtful of him to do. So you took the spoon, sticking it into your mouth before you promptly hummed around it, nodding your head at him with wide eyes that should’ve been enough to tell him he did great.

“Fuck did I mess it up?” He spoke with an uneasy feeling, swiping his finger into the bowl and grabbing a sample to taste, pressing his lips together to try to decipher if something was terribly wrong.

You shook your head hastily, removing the spoon from your mouth before twirling it in the air, “No you nailed it, like absolutely nailed it!”

Still even with your assurance, he seemed to doubt himself, picking up the bowl for himself, moving it around to test the consistency of the frosting. He held it out towards you, tipping it back and forth.

“It’s not too runny? I think I added more than a capful of milk.”

Instead of trying to ease his worries with words, you simply rounded the corner, taking the bowl away from him so all he could focus on was you. It was cute that now you could see what Steve meant when he said you go into your head all too much — maybe he was right when he said self-doubt would get you nowhere but a headache.

“You did perfect,” You began, dusting off the powdered sugar off his t-shirt, looking up at him with a grin, “not too runny, not too thick. Just right.”

It was enough to stop him in his tracks, ironing the worries away in the same way he did yours more often than not. The hand on his chest didn’t leave, when the words stopped, in fact you kept it there, smoothing the wrinkles of his shirt without really thinking much of it, while Steve tried to keep his composure and heart in his chest.

“S-so what did you buy?” He deterred his sights, looking towards the floor where the groceries still sat.

You squinted, hand stopping its movements, as you flashed him a sneaky smile shaking your head before slightly digging your fingers into the dough of his chest.

“No, we’re not just gonna skim over that whole thing…you lied to me!” You shrilled.

And like that, the kitchen erupted with laughter, Steve failing to keep up the innocent act, and you beyond astounded that you fell for it. He held his hands up in defense as playfully pushed him away, even stepping back as he tried to move closer, just to be theatrical.

“Okay technically I didn’t lie lie!” He countered with his hands waving in the air. You crossed your arms over your chest, raising a brow at him, “I thought I didn’t have enough of it but after you left, I measured it out and like the recipe said, a half cup sugar for each of the loaves and I just so happen to have one cup.”

He was the sweetest boy you’ve ever met: not a chance you could be upset even if it was just pretend.

Steve had already done so much for you in less than 24 hours. From dealing with your anxiety over the phone, to driving all the way to you, and then on top of that trying to take the stress off your plate.

There was a pinch between your brow, beginning to grow deeper and your lip caught between your teeth. The longer you didn’t say anything, the more Steve caught the tell-tale signs of your guilt knowing you hated that he was doing so much and you finally got a break you deserved.

He was just as quick to reassure you, stepping forward and testing the waters to see if you’d close the space and to which you did, pouting up at him with an adorable frown until your chest met his in a hug.

You could feel him smile against your head, hands wrapped around your body as he tightened the hold tenderly, “I wanted to do it. You needed a break.” He murmured into your hair as you chuckled into the fabric of his shirt.

It felt routine by now, and you didn’t need to thank him verbally when he gave you a nod as soon as he pulled away and saw the sincere look upon your face. The way he was able to read you like an open book felt personal, the only kind of way that you wanted to be read by him. Ins and outs of you already memorized so carefully with little to no room to question if he was right or not.

You didn’t want him to question anything, especially not you.

Taking a deep breath, you shakily let it out, slowly pulling away from each other until you looked over the counters and to the ground.

“Tangerines.” You called out, moving across the tiles.

“Huh?”

“I picked up some tangerines at the grocery store.”

You handed him the netted bag of fruits that he easily ripped open and let them spill over the table top, “They’re in season?” He pursed his lips, inspecting the fruit carefully.

You nodded, reaching out for the remnants of its packaging, smoothing it out to show him the label, “They’re from Long Beach, California.”

It piqued his interest, looking over at you like you’d know the answer to his curiosity, “Do you think they grow on Sunrise Boulevard?”

You giggled, shrugging your shoulders while you unloaded the rest of the items. “Probably. I’ve never been so I don’t know for sure.”

“We should go someday.”

He extended the invitation as if you, a paycheck to paycheck living individual, could ever afford a trip like that in a heartbeat. But it was the fact that he extended it in the first place that had your insides twisting and turning like a lovesick fool.

We. The possibility of you two going together. And he said it as sweetly as it sounded, honey dripping from his lips, with a smile oh so beautiful that you could really believe that maybe you two could go together one day — even if the rest of your friends tagged along.

As long as he was there with you there was always the possibility of we.

Steve often transported you back to middle school, the days where you caught yourself kicking your feet and blushing like an idiot over a boy who said all the right things. The only difference is Steve didn’t let you crash and burn on the ground. With him, things feel different.

“We should.” You said, lifting your hanging head, not caring anymore about hiding the red flush of your cheeks.

“Good.” He smiled with a nod that he was more so giving himself, his brain spitting out all of the celebratory phrases it could think of after seeing the double vision of your rose blush.

For once, the both of you seem to be a bit braver in your endeavors, holding the intimate eye contact in the silence of birds chirping from outside the flung windows and the whistle of the wind. If you two were a cartoon animation, your hearts would have been jumping out of your chests, and interlocking hands by now.

His eyes didn’t stare blankly at you, and yours certainly didn’t shoot dangers through him. It was as if you both were swimming in each other, taking one another in without a single word spoken because none needed to be said.

You both knew it and you both could hear it in the silence.

“Why don’t we go for a swim, yeah? Call it a day with the baking and just… just spend some time?”

Together he wanted to say. Something that should’ve slipped freely but instead died in his throat, too scared to let you know what spending time together really meant to him, between the both of you, actually.

“I’d love that.”

You kicked Steve out of the kitchen, claiming that he could at least let you finish up the cleaning after he had lied to you about the powdered sugar. You could hear him from the stairs, still arguing that it wasn’t really a lie, making you shake your head and snort while you wiped down the counters.

He emerged as you finished washing the sticky icing bowl, wearing nothing but a pair of swim trunks with two towels under his arm. You were sure, he caught you staring for a second, before kicking you out the kitchen to go get changed while he made you both drinks and skimmed the pool for dead leaves and critters.

Getting changed in the confines of his bedroom felt like the first time you had been there all over again. Only this time you weren’t a stranger and he’s not waiting on the other side of the door for you to be done.

This time you’re a piece of his life and he’s waiting for you.

Slipping into your swimwear, you caught a glimpse of yourself in his mirror. It had occurred to you that this was the first time you would be as bare as you would be in front of him. Sure you weren’t a prude or anything, but you always felt a bit shy, and your feelings for Steve didn’t make it any better.

Not wanting to leave him waiting for so long, you plucked a random shirt from his dresser and threw it over yourself before jogging down the stairs and out the sliding door where he stood with the pool stick in hand, grabbing whatever that was floating on the surface.

“I’m back,” You made your presence known, moving beside him to see the small pile of leaves he gathered on the side of the pool.

Your nose turned up at the little critters that crawled away into the grass, before Steve whistled and pointed to the shaded umbrella, “M’almost done over here, I put your drink over there.”

The pool loungers had been tugged under the shade with towels laid out over the cushions and a variety of snacks sitting along inside the drinks.

“I just juiced some of the tangerines and stirred it with some tequila and margarita mix I had left. If it’s too strong, I can add more juice or make you another.”

You thanked him, walking over to take a seat and sip on the drink while you waited for Steve to finish the pool maintenance. A lot of his home was taken care of by him, and you could understand why if his parents weren’t home too often – it forced him to take up everything and keep everything in order.

You wondered why Steve never gave himself the credit he deserved. Only in his early twenties already taking on what most people in their late twenties still had a hard time getting a grove with. Yet he made it look flawless with little to no complaints about his situation and how this responsibility might have been too much for him.

But deep down in the pit of your stomach, you wondered if this place was really his home or a home he was looking after until he found his. It wasn’t entirely the same situation as yours, hell, you got out the moment freedom striked.

Steve had everything: enough money to pay for rent at a decent apartment nearby, all the life skills in the world, and himself — you just wondered why he was staying.

“How is it?” He called out, back facing you from the other side of the backyard where he stuffed the pool scopper back into the shed.

Your hand raised above your forehead blocking the sun as he walked towards you, the other picked up his drink handing it to him when he sat on the end of your lounger, thankfully blocking the remnants of rays for you.

You watched him take a sip, nodding his head at himself before looking over to you for your opinion.

“Good! Not too strong actually, I think the tangerine juice is great.” You bubbled, taking another sip of yours before placing it back on the table with a clink.

He hummed through his drink, before setting it down and taking a look at you. You had made more space for him on the lounger despite him having his own only a few feet away. Your legs tucked under yourself, and arms came to wrap around your midsection, attempting to hide from his gaze despite his t-shirt that was already drowning you.

You were naturally sheepish, and he knew that but he hoped you weren’t doing this just because he suggested it. The last thing he wanted was to force you into doing something you didn’t want to be doing. Hell, the both of you could be inside sitting in silence, and Steve would be happy, long as you were there.

“You know, we don’t have to swim if you don’t want to. We could just sit out here and talk, whatever you want okay? Whatever is comfortable—”

“No, no, I’m fine! I—I’m just a little shy, that’s all.” You shook your head, attempting to relax your tense muscles, untucking your legs from underneath you.

He grinned, nodding slowly, as his fingers grazed the sleeve of his shirt on your body. “That's okay, nothing wrong with that,” he assured you, meeting your eyes with a impish glint, “nice shirt by the way.”

“Thanks… for letting me borrow it, I mean.”

You looked down at the graphic, finally aware that it was an Eagles t-shirt, that unbeknownst to you was one of his favorites and only worn during special sports occasions. However he decided in his mind that anytime you wanted to wear the garment, it was a special occasion in itself. He wouldn’t want to have it any other way.

“Always.” He grinned, looking down into his lap, not wanting to frighten you with his ceaseless content.

The heat of Indiana wasn’t as fierce as it had been for the past summer and you hoped it would stick around, at least until tomorrow so you all could survive a pleasant farmers market afternoon. For now, you’d enjoy whatever mercy the season would have on the town with no complaints, especially when there was a mansion with a view sitting right beside you.

“Wanna get in?” You snapped out of your thoughts, eyes following his movements as he asked you and took another sip.

You sat up, legs extending over his as you looked out at the aquamarine reflection of the water. “Uh, yeah, do you have any sunblock, by any chance?”

He clicked his tongue, tapping his fingers against your shins. “Shit, yeah, sorry I totally forgot. I think the kids used up the last bottle but I have the spray kind, if that’s okay?”

“Of course.” You nodded, lifting your legs and letting him slide away.

He walked through the sliding door again, and you could hear the slight rustle of him looking through cabinets and cursing at himself that the kids must have misplaced it. With him still busy you took a deep breath, tugging the shirt off your body and smoothing your fingers over your skin.

You had nothing to be insecure about, not when it came to Steve's eyes. He’d seen you stripped down with your emotions – sadness, insecurity, exhaustion and everything in between. Him seeing you in a bathing suit was far less intimidating than it seemed.

“Sorry, I think Dustin must’ve knocked the cap off or something but it still sprays and… oh, h-hey.”

The sunblock slipped from his hands, poorly failing to juggle back into his grip in time before it clanked against the concrete. You didn’t give him an answer, simply lifting your brow before you choked out a fit of laughter, hunching over yourself to grab your tummy.

Steve didn’t mean to be such a man, but just a split second ago, you were covered up in his t-shirt which alone made his head spin, and now, he was seeing skin that had never been exposed before and he felt like he might pass out and knock his head into the concrete. Perhaps it would have been a terribly gruesome way to go out, but at least you were the last thing he got to look at before he went.

“I—I’m sorry!” He stuttered, turning away sharply as his throat bopped with a swallow, “I didn’t mean to say that, it kinda just slipped out. Feel free to totally hit or slap me right now, because that was super duper weird of me and—”

You stood up, prompting him to seal his lips as his eyes slowly turned to watch you pick up the sunscreen, beginning to spray the formula onto your arms, working it into your skin.

You looked up at him through your lashes, washing away his embarrassment as he saw you shake your head.“It’s fine, really. I don’t think it was weird, at all… just super duper funny.” You teased, scrunching your nose at him.

He breathed out a sigh of relief, still looking apologetic in his features.“I feel like an idiot,” he added, rubbing the back of his neck stiffly.

You tilted your head at him, wiggling the bottle in the air. “You can make up for it by getting my back for me?”

He took it from your hands, watching as you spun around and pulled your hair away. “You sure?”

You hummed, “Positive, unless you’re gonna say ‘hi’ to my behind too.” You joked, turning over your shoulder to see him scoff a laugh before spraying you down.

He was careful, asking permission before his hands even touched your skin, and then again when he had to work the product under the straps of the suit. His fingertips are light and gentle, and at the same time meticulous, making sure not to miss a spot and let a single sliver of your skin get burned by the sun.

“Want me to get yours too?” You suggested, spinning back around when his hands finally dropped from you.

“Only if you want to.”

“Spin, Harrington.” You twirled your finger in the air, grasping the sunblock and getting to work.

It was different, feeling your touch without a layer of clothing in the way. Sure, you’ve both slept in the same bed, practically in each other's arms with him shirtless, and you two definitely touched each other in the softest way that no one else did. But your touch right now was suffocating, eating him whole as he tried to breathe through it and tell himself that you were too good for him.

“You have a million beauty marks.” You murmured, breath fanning over his neck making him go dizzy.

He swallowed, turning over his shoulder to watch you rub the product over his shoulder blades, your fingers working mindfully under his gaze.

“B-beauty marks? Moles, you mean?”

You met his eyes, shaking your head with the softest look upon your face. “I prefer to call them beauty marks.”

“That’s cute.” He whispered as a reply.

“Yours are too.” You complimented, feeling him exhale soothingly while your hands worked the rest of the skin, ending it off by tapping your fingers against the beauty marks, “all done.”

You twisted the bottle shut, tossing it on the lounger for later when you two would have to reapply. Turning towards him you ran your hands up and down your arms, waiting for what was next.

“Are you a strong swimmer?” He lifted his brows, watching you think.

You blinked, thinking of all the rare moments you’ve ever been in a body of water there in the midwest. “J-just a little. Why?”

“Don’t want you to drown.” He said, a smirk growing on his face.

You shook your head, not understanding what he was getting at.

“Why would I— Steve!”

A squeal ripped through your throat, as he scooped you up into his arms bridal style, carefully walking you both over to the edge of the pool where hid your face in his chest expecting a gush of water without warning. He couldn’t help but chuckled, adjusting your higher with a small toss until you wrapped your arms around his neck securely.

“You ready?” He bellowed out into the air with a hoot, cradling your head gently for extra measure.

“Whenever you are.” You pinched your eyes shut, tucking yourself more into him as if that would make it less worse.

And like that, cold water engulfed your body all at once. Even in the big splash, Steve’s arms never left your body, keeping himself glued to you as you both came up to the surface and your hands brushed your hair away from your face.

“I got you,” Steve laughed, shaking the water away from his face and never daring to let his arms leave your body.

“It’s so cold!” You whimpered, immediately wrapping your legs around his hips, pulling yourself closer to his body where your jaw trembled against his collarbone.

He could feel you shaking in his arms, taking a bit longer to adjust to the coolness given the fact that you hadn’t been to a pool in ages. His hands ran up and down you back, pausing in between passes to knead your skin.

“You’ll warm up soon,” He guaranteed, kissing the side of your head before resting his chin on top of yours, the two of you fastened together with a stitch until your shivering fizzled out.

Usually Steve’s pool was filled with the bustle and shouts of children, water splashing everywhere and him standing on the sidelines with his hands on his hips, reminding the kids not to run on the wet pavement.

Though today it might have been the most peaceful it’s ever been.

Turns out, you’re not the best swimmer after all these years with little to no access to any pool or beaches, but you are one hell of a floater, giggling as Steve waded the water beside you, mimicking waves and moving you along the expanse.

You two attempted to race, doing laps back and forth, but you gave up a few seconds in, elbows resting on the concrete as you watched each stride he took against the water until he was back to you. Rubbing his eyes, he caught his breath and looked at you in disbelief.

“You beat me?!”

“By a long shot.” You joked, before he playfully rolled his eyes and swam closer to you.

His hands sneaking underwater reaching out to grip your thighs and throw them over his hips where you quickly held on tight as we took you both to the center of the expanse. There was little to no room between you both anymore, the personal space bubble had popped long ago and now it was a shared out that sheathed the both of you.

Steve didn’t think he could let you go, even if he tried.

With your backs beneath the sun, everything felt right. Clearing the air, you breathed in the mix of chlorine and each other. The only sounds were the whistle of the wind, the swoosh of the water around you, and your harbored inhales and exhales.

It was all consuming in the best way possible.

For Steve, the city he had lived in his entire life felt as cruel as the loves in his past. And there were a lot of loves: platonic and romantic, yet nothing felt entirely like this – not even close. There was always a flaw, a blemish in time that made the past never work out the way he had hoped, but there was a gut wrenching realization that ever since he saw you, there was no need to look back at those shortcomings.

He was quieter than usually, eyes studying you without even realizing it, still you didn’t shrink under his view. You followed his sights, watching as his orbs moved from a part of your face to the next, taking you in like an art piece, memorizing every detail like his life depended on it.

And for a moment a wave of realization washed over you. The way you were in Steve’s arms, the way he was looking at you, the way you looked at him — friends didn’t do the things you both did, especially when your other friends were around.

Steve was just your friend when he gave you a long-sleeve to borrow, drove down to your art gallery, talked you through your worst moments, offered you a bed to sleep in, slept with you in said bed.

But maybe you and Steve were never destined for the whole friendship thing. You both had crossed so many lines unforgiven, and there was no way either of you could deny the truth by saying goodbye.

You had to step into it and let go.

You swallowed, arms tightening around his neck while your chest rose with a deep puff. Only then did he snap out of the haze, blinking slowly until he shook his head and snapped his eyes to yours silently apologizing to which you brushed off with a half-hearted smile.

“You know, some beauty marks have meaning.” You revealed, hushed tone just loud enough for him to catch against the breeze.

His breath hitched, tips of his fingers caressing your spine, tracing it up and down absentmindley like second nature.“Y-yeah?”

You nodded, eyes meeting him, almost pleading for him to let you. “Can I tell you about them?”

“Please do.”

His grip on you was tight enough to allow you to let go, letting your arms float freely in the water, before thumbing the marks on his skin delicately.

“You’ve got a bunch of tiny ones by your eyes,” You whispered, carefully swiping over them with your thumbs, “these ones mean that you’re hard working, which you are.” You said obviously.

He’d be willing to work harder to make whatever this was permanent. To wake up from the dark night he’d been sleeping through since he could remember. He’d do it all, if it meant getting to wake up to you, everyday… to wake up and be yours, it was that simple.

Your thumb moved down to the double freckles on his cheek, murmuring, “Sensitive.”

“Like a cry baby?” He questioned, still full of jokes despite the inner monologue that was eating his entire being up.

You breathed through your laugh, holding his face still as you clarified. “Like someone in touch with their emotions.”

Steve never had the best upbringing, you knew that, and while your understanding of the whole picture was very little, you knew that he didn’t let that define him. He didn’t treat his past as an excuse to be horrible to other people, in fact it made him better. Softer in his approach to situations that he did his best to guide instead of control.

Honesty was the freckle on his chin. Steve never tried to prove himself to be a good person, worthy of something greater than the things he was given, even when he was. He had trusted the wrong people in the past, did and said things he was never proud of, but he didn’t ever pretend like those moments didn’t happen.

His reputation, the one that should've scared you away and prevented you from getting to know the real him, was in your eyes, the most delicate thing about him. He didn’t try to put up a perfect facade for you, but he did prove that he threw out all the bad, every cloak that hid his true colors and daggers that fought every truth — he threw them out, not to become someone new, but to finally be him.

How you wished you could’ve been brave enough to say it all because you wanted him to so desperately know.

And how Steve wished he could dive into your mind and swim through your thoughts as you stared at him with complete tenderness. Something he didn’t think he could ever get used to because what about him could possibly make you go slack-jawed? He didn’t know what you saw him, but quite frankly he’d listen if you’d tell him. He’d listen to anything you had to say.

“Any other ones?” His grips moved down to your waist squeezing gently and seeking the connection in the midst of your silence.

You hummed, giving him a soft smile before he reciprocated it, visibly enchanted by your ability to get lost in him the way he got lost in you.

“You’ve got a special one right here,” You let your fingers brush over his cupid's bow, caressing the spot back and forth.

His eyebrows jutted up curiously, breath fanning over your thumb as he spoke. “Special, huh? You’ve gotta tell me now, sweetheart.”

He pulled you in just a little closer, your chest bumping into his and your foreheads just inches apart, and like that, you were a little more brave with nothing left to be scared of. Your hands cradled his face, forcing him to keep his eyes on yours with every word that left your mouth because you wanted him to understand, to see himself the way you saw him.

“Empathy. The world lacks it, but somehow you’re full of it.” Your words flowed with conviction as does the admiration that sparkled in your eyes.

“H-how?” His voice broke, as if he could barely believe that he had an ounce of it within him.

You rolled your shoulders back, determined to get him to see it in himself. “Well for starters, you’re a great listener. Always listening to me ramble about dumb stuff and—”

“Nothing you say is dumb.” Steve said sincerely, fingers caressing your back warmly against the coolness of the water.

“See, you’re also good at reassuring me.” You grinned, teasing him because he proved himself wrong.

He rolled his eyes comically as you went on. “And you always try your best to understand me, even when I’m a mess and nothing makes sense. You try and you put yourself in my shoes to try to understand.”

“I always want to understand you.” He murmured, eyes staring into yours with fondness that was difficult to not shy away from, but you forced yourself to bear it.

“I know, and that’s why you’re such a good person, Steve.” You smiled, rubbing your thumbs along his cheekbones following his structure.

Steve Harrington was quite possibly the best person you’d ever get the honor of knowing the way that you did. You truly wanted to share him with the world, to give everyone a look at the finest person who was everything and more jumbled up into one being, but at the same time you wanted to be selfish, to keep him to yourself because no one deserved him, sometimes you felt like you didn’t either.

You just got lucky.

“I hate not knowing what you’re feeling.” He admitted, swallowing thickly, remembering all those times he had to poke and prod in order to get down to the root of your sadness.

You nodded understandingly, hating how closed off you were in the past. “Sometimes I’m too scared to say it outloud.”

You wanted to be more like Steve, not wanting to be defined by the things that you hate, the things that you were afraid of, or the things that haunted you in the middle of the night. You wanted to throw out your sword and live in peace just being defined for what you loved… the people you loved.

“Why?”

Your eyes met his curious ones with reluctance, nerves kicking into gear more than ever because you knew what saying the truth meant.

“B-because, I don’t want to mess things up.” You said, nervously massaging the back of his neck with gentle touches hoping he couldn’t feel them shake.

All this time you thought it was black and white. Too scared to let the past go because of the years you had put into them, and too scared to move forward because you didn’t want a repeat. The extremes that held you back, believing that failing once meant failing forever — all of that meant nothing anymore.

All you could see in your mind was you and Steve intertwined, all of the bad that you had thought up was put behind you and you never wanted to look away from him.

“You couldn’t mess anything up, not between us.” He said firmly, one hand loosening from your body to grab at your elbow, bringing it back to his cheek where he wanted you to feel him.

All this time he thought it was burning red. Chaos and dramatics without ever solving anything. The highest of highs and lowest of lows, a dangerous path that never led him anywhere except heartache and pain. The treacherous journey that was always destined for failure — he didn’t feel that anymore.

All he could see in his head was him sneaking back and forth from your town with you in his bed, and nothing would ever be the same.

“Are you sure?” Yours eyes locked, his washing away any lingering feelings of doubt with a simple nod.

You saw the thick swallow and bop of his throat while his hands traveled to your jaw, holding you there. “I’m positive because I’ve been feeling too.”

And like that you both were wide awake.

“S-say it please,” Steve pleaded running his thumbs over the bottom of your lip wanted to feel it so he knew it was real.

“I-I could show you instead.” You murmured, taking his wrist in your hand, feeling the thumb of his pulse.

He nodded, resting his forehead against yours, feeling you breathe against him like a lifeline reaching out.

“Please.”

Finally you both were letting it go, stepping into it together because what you had was golden, like daylight.

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a/n: happy new year everyone!!! I’ve missed you all so much and I’m so sorry I’ve been gone for so long — I took a break from posting as avidly in order to prioritize letting myself rest up and enjoy my break. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, and a big thank you to my love, Effie, for helping me proofread this and always giving me the best advice ever!!! I can’t wait for you all to read the next chapter!

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