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frostandflamesfanfic · 1 year

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Of Sweets & Sweaters (Steve Harrington x Reader)

Of Sweets & Sweaters (Rated T)

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader (gender neutral)

Word Count: 2.1k+

Warnings: Brief language and suggestive comment made by Steve, nothing too crazy.

Summary: Stevemas Day 5- A few months after the Great Hawkins 'Quake, Robin decides to throw a little holiday celebration for the party and the older kids. However, Steve isn't too happy with the dress code. Is there anything you can do to convince him otherwise?

“Hey, babe?” Steve’s voice called out from your shared bedroom.You had to bite back the smile that threatened to stretch its way across your face at his tone of voice. It was fairly obvious what his whining could be about. What was so wrong about having a little fun in the process?

“Yes, honey?” you replied in the sweetest tone you could muster.

“You love me, right?”

You couldn’t help it; a small snort escaped. “Of course I love you. Why would you ask that?”

“Because if you loved me,” your boyfriend’s voice grew louder as he approached the kitchen, “you wouldn’t be forcing me to wear this absolute and utter monstrosity.”

He stepped into the room wearing the brightest red sweater you had ever seen in your life. Covered in pom-poms and tinsel, Steve looked as though he had stepped right out of an offensive Christmas card. To top it all off, there was very exaggerated Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer stitched into the front of the sweater.

You gave a low whistle. “Damn, babe,” you mused. “And here I thought it looked good on the mannequin. This is so much better. I think red really is your color.”

“Oh, yeah?” Steve raised an eyebrow. “Well then, where’s yours? I wouldn’t want you to miss out on sharing this experience with me.”

You smiled and held up your hands, which were currently covered in dough. There was a dusting of flour all over your clothes, making you look as though you had spent plenty of time in the fresh snow from the previous evening. For the last few hours, you had been slaving over a hot oven putting together the fixings for some of your friends’ favorite holiday desserts.

Dustin loved brownies, especially when you folded pieces of Three Musketeers bars into the batter. Eleven had found herself becoming partial to your peanut butter blossoms, although it’s most likely because Mike introduced her to the best part: the Hershey’s kiss. There were cookies for Max and Lucas, who preferred to have their snacks on the go. Nancy always preferred the elegant classics, so you went with a chocolate silk pie, which you knew she would love to share with your queen of sweets: Robin. For Eddie, you made your spiked eggnog meltaways, which you knew for a fact Jonathan always stole a few bites of when no one else was looking.

“My god, it looks like a bakery exploded in here,” Steve remarked, walking over to the counter to swipe some cream cheese frosting that you made for Argyle and Will’s pineapple-banana hummingbird cupcakes.

“Hey!” you exclaimed, swatting his hand away after he stuck the dollop in his mouth. You tried your best to shoo him back from your workstation. “You have your own desserts coming. I’ve been baking for four days now. Wait your turn, mister.”

“Desserts, as in plural, hm?” Your boyfriend sidled up behind you and snaked his arms around your waist, face buried into the crook of your neck.

“I may have made that chocolate bark you love so much,” you said with a hum, allowing yourself to melt into his hold for a moment. There was something so special and intimate about these moments with your boyfriend. Steve made you feel like you were the most important person in the world, not just to him, but everyone. You always hated attention, but the love and admiration you noticed in his eyes every time he tells you he loves you makes you overlook that distaste – if only just to see him happy.

“Oh, yeah?” Steve smiled against your skin, his lips pressing against it in the form of many light kisses. You had to refrain from giggling. “What else?”

“And there might be some fresh gingerbread in the oven right now.”

There was a gentle nip to your ear, which was accompanied by wiggling fingers that danced along your sides. “Mmm, nothing else?”

You gasped and turned to swat at him again. “Steven Joseph Harrington!” you exclaimed. “You get your mind out of the gutter this instant! How dare you try to seduce me while I’m baking for the children.”

Steve groaned. “I can’t help it how hot you look in that apron, babe,” he whined. “Just want to eat you up.”

A hot flush burned at your neck as it spread up and across your cheeks. “Well, maybe later,” you stuttered out. “But for now, I have to get back to work on these treats if they’re going to be ready for us to take to Robin’s tonight.”

In preparation for the holiday season, yours and Steve’s shared best friend, Robin Buckley, had decided to throw a little impromptu party for your friends. After everything that had gone on in your small town over the years, she was determined to salvage one of the happiest (or, to quote the great Andy Williams, the most wonderful) times of the years. She had been planning the party for weeks, selecting only the “best” Christmas films of all time and records that would keep everyone feeling the Christmas spirit – even if it meant playing a few Black Sabbath songs for Eddie. Everyone was meant to bring something to eat and you had volunteered to bring the desserts. While you had nothing against the local bakery, there was nothing like the taste of a freshly made baked good that came from the heart rather than a plastic container.

The only catch? The dress code was U.C.S.O.:

Ugly Christmas Sweaters Only, otherwise known as what Steve liked to refer to as his own personal hell.

Speaking of your boyfriend, he sighed and stepped away from torturing you momentarily to run his fingers through his dark brown hair. “Fine,” he relented. “Do you need any help, though?”

With a sigh, you glanced around the warzone of a kitchen and placed your hands on your hips. Everything was pretty much done for the most part. There were a few things in the oven, but everything that needed to be prepped before the party was already set aside and cooling. “I mean, I think I’m just about done. Just have to clean up and get everything out of the oven.”

“If you want,” Steve offered, “I can finish and clean up so you can get ready.”

You felt your heart grow soft as you smiled at the man before you. “Really?” you asked. “You’d do that for me?”

Your boyfriend shrugged. “Of course! How could I say no to my baby like that? I would be, like, the world’s worst boyfriend then, wouldn’t I?”

You giggled and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Not the worst. But you would most certainly still be the cutest.”

“Well, shucks, babe,” Steve teased as he began to roll up his sleeves. “I’m flattered.”

With a wink, he pulled on his yellow rubber gloves and procured a sponge from beside the faucet. His outfit reminded you of the old days, back when your relationship was still new and the two of you were battling an alien dog that had eaten one of your babysitting charges’ cat. While you were glad those days were behind you, there was still a part of you that missed the adventure and worried if the quiet domesticity would be enough for Steve.

It wasn’t that you were afraid it wasn’t what he wanted– the two of you had had a lengthy conversation about your futures, with both of you being in agreement of wanting to start a family together at some point. You were more worried about the fact Steve may become bored with the idea of a domestic you, where the most rebellious thing you did each day would be whether or not you cut the crusts off your sandwich.

“Babe?” Steve’s voice cut through your thoughts, snapping you back to reality. When you glanced over to acknowledge him, you noticed the concern practically radiating off of his face. “Are you okay?”

“Hm? Oh, uh, yeah,” you tried to console him. “Just…got lost in thought is all.”

Unfortunately, that hardly did anything to lessen the stress your boyfriend exhibited. His frown only deepened as he set down the sponge and pulled the gloves off to cradle your face in his hands. There was an emotion you couldn’t quite place flickering in his expression. It was almost like a twinge of sadness mixed with…guilt?

“Are you sure?” he asked, more urgently this time. “You looked like you were in, like, another world or somethin’.”

Oh.

It made more sense now. Ever since the earthquake, Steve had been increasingly protective over you. He worried about your every move for months, especially since you had become seduced by the siren song of a ticking clock. The same song that took the lives of so many others. It almost took you away from him, too. The night you froze in his arms, shaking in fear with eyes rolled toward the back of your head. They didn’t know your favorite song, they didn’t know how to save you. In an act of blind desperation, Steve had hummed the only song he could think of, which was coincidentally the first song you danced to at the kid’s Snow Ball: Time After Time.

You can still remember how soft and broken his voice sounded as he sang to you.

“If you're lost, you can look, and you will find me,” he whispered between tears. “Time after time. If you fall, I will catch you, I'll be waiting. Time after time.”

If you didn’t believe in the power of true love before then, you did the moment you broke free from the trace and came face-to-face with Steve’s teary hazel eyes. When he finally realized you had come back, he pulled you into a dizzying and searing kiss you can sometimes still feel if you think about it. It wasn’t just a declaration of love, or the feeling of relief, but a promise of a future he one day hoped to share with you.

“Steve.” You reached up to grab his face with your own hands. “I’m fine, I promise. I was just thinking about things.”

“Are- are you sure?” His voice came out a bit crackly, as though he was on the verge of anxious tears.

“Absolutely one-hundred-percent sure,” you assured him. With a bit of additional height gained from being on your tiptoes, you pressed a kiss onto his lips. I’m here, it said. And I’m not going anywhere.

“Now. I’m going to go get cleaned up and get this flour out of my hair so we can get ready to go. If we make them all wait for too long, Robin’s gunna put us on dishes duty.”

Steve groaned. “But we already did so much…”

“No, I did the baking. You just stood there and looked pretty.”

Your boyfriend playfully lifted a nearby dish towel and proceeded to swat at your butt with it. “Okay, that’s enough outta you, babe. Go get ready.”

- - - - - - - - - - - -

About an hour later, you arrived back downstairs feeling refreshed and excited for the holiday festivities that undoubtedly lay ahead of you for the rest of the night. You tugged are your sweater, hoping the material wouldn’t rise up too much over the course of wearing it. When you had washed the sweaters, you had made the mistake of drying yours a bit too long. You were pretty sure it had shrunk, but there was nothing else you could do about it.

“Well, damn,” Steve let out a low whistle. “I think it’s official. My baby can make anything look good.”

Flattered, you blushed and gave your boyfriend a playful twirl. The sweater wasn’t that much different than his. Fashioned from a similar red colored yarn, your sweater boasted more snowflakes that pom-poms. A non-red-nosed reindeer outfitted the front, its grin appearing a little too eager for the holidays. Tinsel adorned the neck and wrists of the top, as well, ensuring that you’d definitely stand out alongside Steve.

“Why thank you,” you teased. “But I still think you wear Melvald’s originals better than I do, babe.”

“Remind me to burn that store to the ground one day.”

You rolled your eyes and slipped on your coat. “It’s not that bad, Steve!”

“Says you!!” your boyfriend argued. “You literally look smoking hot, while I’m over here looking like a very festive tomato.”

“Ah, yes. But you’re my festive tomato.” You pressed a quick kiss to his cheek before you picked up a tower of cookie containers. Was this potentially too many desserts? Possibly. But what else are the holidays for if not enjoying sweet treats with the ones you love most?

“Come on, tomato boy!” you called from over your shoulders. “Help me load in these desserts so we can go show the kids just who means business at Christmas trivia.”

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Author's Note: Anddd we're back. How's everyone enjoying Stevemas so far? We're almost halfway through at this point, and I have to admit, I'm starting to lose a bit of steam. I have about four unplanned fics left to write, so if anyone has any Christmas (or other holiday season) ideas, please feel free to send them my way!

If you enjoyed this story, make sure to leave a comment, tag a friend who might be interested, and give this post a cheeky reblog! These types of interactions really help me out as a writer. They tell me what you like to see and keep me motivated and writing! I mentioned this last time and I think it helped out a bit with the engagement, so if you want to stay in the loop of all things Stevemas or any of my other fics, don't be afraid to follow or ask to be included in my tag lists. I promise I'm a very friendly person who won't spam you too much with my fandom musings :)

Until next time, my little sparks <3

Taglist: @bakerstreethound