Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Stephanie entered the house with as much enthusiasm as she could muster. Truth be told, she was sick to death of meaningless house parties. They had all become so repetitive.

Dancing,

loud music,

spin the bottle,

beer pong.

She was sick of it and couldn’t wait to graduate in a month. Yet here she was, in a classic cat costume the night of halloween, right on Steve Harrington's porch. It had been Chrissy that dragged her here, claiming that Steph's "Mopey behaviour" was a lack of fun and excitement in her life. She had rolled her eyes at that. She was having plenty of fun, thank you.

As soon as she stepped over the threshold, the smell of body odour and beer made her prickle. Pushing the rancid smell to the back of her mind, she walked and grabbed a solo cup, scanning the room for Chrissy. Her eyes rolled back in her head as she saw Chrissy squashed onto the couch next to none other than Jason Carver. She could make out their faces through the dim lighting of the lounge; Carver unbothered as Chrissy stared at him with stars in her eyes.

Eugh.

Jason was a total douchebag; Chrissy just had love heart eyes every time she saw him. 

Steph marched over, and said loudly, "Hey Chrissy- Oh and... What's your name again?" A smirk graced her lips as Carver's nostrils flared. She wasn't a moron; Carver knew damn well she was bluffing. I mean, they had shared nearly every class this year. 

Oh, how she loved pissing him off.

Jason’s expression darkened, and he leaned back, arms crossed. “Real original, Steph. Got anything better?”

“Plenty, but I'll save them for next time.” She shot him a sardonic wink, smile dropping, relishing in the irritation poorly disguised as indifference on his face.

Chrissy, oblivious to the bitch-fest happening between them, beamed at her, “Steph! I’m so glad you actually came!” 

Stephanie broke out into a grin, “Yeah, well, couldn't leave you with dickweed Carver all night could I?” Stephanie gestured goofily at Jason, who rolled his eyes.

“Oh stop it,” Chrissy frowned, but her eyes sparkled with mischief. “Why don’t you join us instead of standing there?”

“Yeah, come hang, Steph,” Jason taunted, smirking. 

“I think I'll take my chances at beer pong instead.” As much as she didn't want to play beer pong, she shuddered at the thought of being that close to Jason.

“Beer pong?” Chrissy perked up. “Let’s do it! Jason, you can be on my team!”

Oh lovely.

Holding back a grimace, Steph agreed. “I’ll find someone else,” Stephanie said, her eyes scanning the room. Her eyes landed on Nancy and she grinned.

 “Hey Nance!” she called, waving her over. “You're on my beer pong team now. I need a partner who can actually throw.”

Nancy’s face morphed into one of trepidation. “Fine...” She reluctantly agreed.

As they made their way to the table, Jason smirked, looking far too comfortable. “Good luck, you two. You’re gonna need it.” The girls shot each other a look. His ego was bigger than his head. 

“Thanks, we’ll just take the win while you’re busy chasing after your balls.” Stephanie shot back, determination crawling into her brain.

The first round began, and with every toss of the ball, onlookers grew. Cheers erupted with each successful throw, beer splashing out of cups onto the ground. Nancy was surprisingly good, her skills scoring them cup after cup.

They came to the match point. She stepped up, focusing on the cups lined up in front of her, blocking everything else out. The ball flew from her hand and landed perfectly in one of Jason's cups.

"Take that Carver!" She giggled, throwing her hands up. Maybe beer pong wasn't so bad. But only when she was winning.

The crowd erupted in cheers before dispersing back into a mix of sweaty dancing, and Jason’s smirk disappeared. 

“Lucky shot,” he grumbled, dragging Chrissy back to the couch, tugging her arm aggressively. Chrissy offered Steph a thumbs up. Her smile faltered. Jason could be so rough sometimes.

She moved outside for a much needed smoke break. Honestly, parties could be so exhausting sometimes. Pulling a cigarette out of her purse, she rifled through the contents for a lighter. 

Shit.

"Need a light?" A deep voice from behind her made her jump. She’d recognise that voice anywhere. It belonged to the one and only Steve Harrington.

"Fuck, Harrington, you scared me." She scoffed, turning her body to face the taller man. He was dressed in a surprisingly accurate rendition of Marty from Back to the Future, a shiny pair of glasses resting on his perfectly styled head of hair. She rolled her eyes. 

Steve didn't look at her as he leant on the railing, pulling a lighter out of his back pocket and using it to light the cig that rested between his lips. He inhaled deeply, closing his eyes, before exhaling the smoke into the cold night air, and Steph had to ignore the flutter that sparked in her belly. 

"So do you need a light or not?" He said, the cigarettes now perched between his fingers.

"Yeah actually." She almost smiled. Her and Harrington had been rivals for years. No one really knows where it started. It was suspected, however, to have arisen after Harrington orchestrated a prank on the cheerleaders in middle school. Harrington looked at her condescendingly. 

"Aw, that's too bad. You're not getting it." He chuckled as he lifted the cig to his lips and took another drag.

"Prick." 

This was exactly why she avoided parties. It just wasn’t worth it. First Carver, now Harrington. What a night.

Ripping her cat ears off, she stormed back through the house, making sure to shove Harrington with her shoulder as she passed.

"Dude, what'd you do this time?" Tommy chuckled. 

She was already out the door before he answered. 

She should have ripped that stupid cigarette out of Harrington's mouth and taken a drag from it. That would have really pissed him off. Her mouth right where his was and -

Thank god they were graduating in a couple of weeks and she would never have to see his smug little face again.

As she was passing his BMW parked in the driveway, she thought of a plan. An awful, terribly rude plan, but god it be funny. She smiled.

Oh Stephanie, you are a genius. 

She searched for Eddie, who usually sold the goods around these sorts of parties. 

It didn't take long for her to find him behind a bush smoking a joint with his lunchbox tucked into the shrub beside him.

"Well, well, well. Stephanie Anderson, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

She chuckled. "Well we both know Steve Harrington right?" 

He raised his eyebrow, a smirk beginning to form on his face.

“Go on…”

His smirk only grew as she recited her plan. 

☮︎

"Who the fuck put out an entire pack of cigs on my fucking windscreen?" Steve roared, causing partygoers to pause their drunken mingling. 

Eddie and Steph watched from behind a tree as Steve searched the area for the culprit. Unfortunately, their snorts and cackles weren't exactly quiet, and Steve spotted Steph giggling almost immediately. Honestly, Steve should be grateful between Eddie and her, they managed to smoke enough for him to notice.

"You little-" He cut off his sentence as he began running towards her, to which she shrieked and giggled, sprinting the way to her car. Luckily she was already 10 feet ahead of him, and it didn't take much to speed off in her little car, watching him yell profanities and flip her off through the rearview mirror. 

Oh boy, Chrissy was gonna love hearing about this.

☮︎

Graduation day came and went, and Stephanie was now a working member of the public. But that involved actually finding a job. Her part time job with Robin hadn’t lasted long before her parents made her quit to focus on her studies. Honestly, she was grateful, considering the Mall had burnt down months later and Steve Harrington had also started working there.

Steve working there was definitely worse than it burning down. However, thanks to her found friendship with Robin, she had been able to land a job at the infamous family video. Her first shift was tomorrow, and it was safe to say she was nervous, as one is when starting a new job. 

She laid out her uniform for tomorrow. A ridiculously formal collared button up and her favourite jeans. She had yet to collect the vest and name badge. She sighed, shrugging into her pyjamas and pulling back the cover on her twin size mattress. Her new home in the trailer park had been less than forgiving since her Dad had gambled their house away. 

Oh well. At least she hadn’t lost the car. And Eddie was her neighbour.

Chapter Text

The rumpled collared shirt squeezed Stephanie's neck, a reminder of why she had relegated it to the back of her closet for such a long time. It had been at least three years since she’d worn it, and now it felt foreign and constricting. And far too tight. As she adjusted the collar, she felt a wave of anxiety wash over her. It was suffocating her, a reminder of her desperation. First shift, she reminded herself, this job needed to work out. Her dad’s last episode had drained her, financially and emotionally.

She stepped into the store, bell rattling gently to announce her arrival. Her nose was immediately filled with the smell of musty carpet and plastic from the tapes. The dull orange light from the fluorescents reflected in her blue eyes. 

She greeted Robin with a smile, clutching her purse in her hand. 

"How's it going, colleague," Robin began but Steph cut her off with a grimace. 

"Don't.. ever call me that again." They both giggled. “I came in early, I needed to make sure I spoke to someone I actually knew before, y’know, officially starting.”

“Valid point. However, I do have to leave early tonight...” Robin scrunched her face up, expecting the worst.

“That’s okay. I guess I’ll live,” Robin visibly deflated as Steph jokes. “Before you leave though, do you have a locker or something I could put my bag in..?"

"Oh- Duh, of course. Follow me." Robin led Steph into the staff room and showed her the locker she would be inhabiting for her employment. It shrieked as she pried it open and they both cringed.

"Might need some oil, it hasn't been used in a while." Robin smiled. 

"Noted."

☮︎ 

"Anyways, just chuck your stuff in there - I've gotta run; I'm going to the drive in with Vickie." 

"Have fun Robs. Before you go though, who's on shift with me? I haven’t got a copy of the roster yet.”

This was when Robin's smile faltered. 

"Ah. So actually, this drive in thing- It was a bit last minute, and I needed someone to cover for me and-”

"Oh my God Robin, just spit it out, it can’t be that bad," Steph said teasingly. 

"UmsobasicallyigotStevetocovermyshiftand-"

It was in fact that bad.

"What?" She half yelled. "Steve is the one training me? Oh my God, some warning would've been nice!" Steph punched Robin’s arm lightly as her brow furrowed.

"Yeah well otherwise you wouldn't have shown up.." Robin said meekly. “And truthfully I don’t even know why you hate each other so much, Steve really isn’t that bad.. He’s changed a lot since senior year, you know.”

Steph sighed. Robin did have a point. Steve had always just gotten under her skin like no one else.

His stupid, perfect hair and his stupid smile and his-  

"I'm sorry Steph-"

"Robin I'm not mad at you, It's fine. Okay, I'm sorry for being a bitch, but it's like the one guy that just gets on every single nerve has to be the one I work with. AND he's training me. AND you won’t even be here for emotional support.” She smiled weakly.

She took a deep breath. As much as she wanted to take her stuff and leave, she was officially broke. She rested her head against the cool metal of the locker. 

"You know what? It's fine. It's fine. I can do one shift and then, I don't know, find another job, maybe?"

Robin swallowed nervously. "Funny story. We're actually short staffed at the moment so you actually wouldn't be like let off work, for another.. Two months give or take?"

"Two months? Oh my God, surely that's illegal. What if I just stop coming to work?"

"Well I wouldn't know would I? Anyways, I've seriously gotta go now or Vickie’ll have my head."

She darted off, yelling a quick, “Have fun!” Over her shoulder as the bell rang, signalling her leave.

At least Harrington wasn’t witness to that interaction. 

And If it's just Steve, why bother being so uptight? 

On that thought, she began to unbutton the top 2 buttons of her shirt, exhaling fully as her chest was freed from the constricts of her polo.

"Didn't even see me yet and you're already undressing?" Steve said, appearing from the front and leaning on the door frame. 

"Fucking hell... What is it with you and sneaking up on me? And for your information, I'm unbuttoning my shirt because it's uncomfortable, and it's only you here, and I couldn’t care less about what you think."

Steve’s eyes lingered on the buttons for a second too long, before he looked up and rolled his eyes. 

"All fun and games until Keith drops in for a surprise inspection."

Stephanie froze, hands still over her buttons. "What?"

Steve then burst out laughing, slamming his hands on his knees and he cackled boyishly.

"Oh my God, you should've seen the look on your face." He pretended to wipe a tear from his eye.

"Ha ha. You're hilarious." Steph said sarcastically, relaxing herself and standing. She then brushed straight past him to the counter, making sure to step on his toes as hard as she could as she walked past.

"Ow! What the hell? Stand on my toes again and I’ll tell Keith you tried assaulting me."

"Oops. Didn't see you there. Also, as if Keith would believe you, Steve Harrington, over me. Wait a second," She paused. Steve listened, suddenly tense. "Have you gotten shorter or is that just me?" 

Steve unstiffened, rolling his eyes. An action the pair knew like the back of their hands.

“Touché."

She flicked her blonde ponytail in his face. He tightened his fists. They were push and pull, opposite sides of the tide.

"Real mature, Anderson." He folded his arms across his chest and Steph couldn't help but glance. He had definitely gotten stronger since she last saw him. 

She shook her head. Probably just the angle. 

"So are you just gonna stand there like a cardboard cut out the whole shift or are you gonna actually teach me how to do my job?"

Steve bristled, clearly annoyed. "Yeah whatever. If you can't keep up, I'm not waiting for you."

She rolled her eyes. "It's a VHS store, how hard could it be?" 

☮︎

Very hard, it seemed. 

"I just don't get it, how do you know which order they go on the shelf?"

Steph was kneeling in front of the bottom shelf, two VHS' in her hand. When Steve didn't respond, she turned around, and a deep frown set into her face.

Steve's eyes were down, head empty. 

"Are you staring at my ass?" Steph said incredulously.

"What?" Steve blinked back to reality. "Why would I be looking at your ass? You’d need to actually have an ass for me to look at first." He rebutted, flustered, standing up straighter in an attempt to exude nonchalance and reestablish his dominance.

Both of which were short lived as not one, but two VHS' thudded into his chest.

"You do it then." She stood up, brushing dust off her jeans. 

"No. It's your job too. I'm teaching you."

"Guess what."

He raised an eyebrow. Daring her.

"I. Don't. Care." Steph pushed him out of the way, making her way to the staffroom, door slamming with a bang behind her. 

Steve turned slowly, paling slightly as he came face to face with a man standing at the counter, VHS in hand, jaw slack and eyes wide.

"Sorry about her, Sir. Women," He chuckled. "You know how they can be." 

The man nodded slowly. "Tell me about it. Got three youngsters at home, what a handful."

Steve laughed. "Your total is four dollars." The bank note slid into the register with ease.

"Have a nice day, Sir!" He called out to the man as he left the store. As soon as the door shut, Steve stormed into the staff room, where Steph was just out of sight, leaning against the back wall outside, the door slightly ajar to allow a warm breeze to mingle with the air conditioned air in the store.

"What the fuck is your problem, Anderson? First of all, there was a customer in the store. Do you know how much trouble I would be in if that little scenario got back to Keith? I'd be fired."

"Actually, if I recall correctly, we're short staffed at the moment. The worst you're getting is a slap on the wrist, Harrington.” Stephany took another drag, not even turning around.

Steve ignored her, moving on to his next point. "Secondly, can you just stop being a bitch for like, 5 minutes, so I can actually get teaching you over and done with.” 

Steph exhaled heavily and tried to ignore the sting of hurt. "Firstly this, secondly that- This isn't a thesis Harrington. I’ll try to keep my bitching to a minimum; I wouldn’t want to hurt poor Stevie’s precious feelings.”

Steve groaned. "Oh my God. I cannot stand you. In fact, I wouldn't care if you dropped off the face of the earth so I never had to see your stupid face again-"

Steve's loathsome ramble was interrupted by a ring of the bell at the counter. 

"Hello? Can I have a hand please?" A young female voice called.

"Off you go Harrington." Stephanie shooed him away and smiled sweetly as she walked back inside, snuffing her cigarette out on his name tag which he had foolishly left on the table. 

His nostrils flared, and he snatched the now, slightly charred, name badge off the table to use his insufferable charm on some poor woman. Stephanie’s stomach grumbled noisily, reminding her of her lack of breakfast. And lunch. Vending machine muesli bar it was then.

She was going to get home late tonight; Steve and her had the closing shift. She'd be surprised if she got home and her dad was still awake. Most likely he'd be passed out in a pool of his own vomit again, and she would be the one cleaning it up. Again. 

She had to resist the urge to grab another cigarette from her pocket. Instead, she got up, strode over to the rewinding rack, and pulled a few off. 

It's not that hard. Fuck you, Steve.

☮︎

Steve walked in the staff room ten minutes later, no number in his pocket. Maybe Robin was right, he had lost all his charm. He halted in the doorway, seeing Steph sitting cross legged on the floor, tediously rewinding tapes, tongue poked out the side of her mouth in avid concentration.

"Should I grab a camera? Is Stephanie Anderson actually working?" 

Steph didn't even look up. "You wouldn't know what that means would you? How’d you go charming that poor lady? I'm surprised she didn't run out the door immediately after seeing your face."

Steve scoffed. "At least I try."

"Who says I haven't been?"

"How about the fact that you're single? I don't think I've seen you on a date since high school actually. Is that because you've already slept with everyone in Hawkins?"

As much as she hated to admit it, that one really stung. She swallowed thickly.

"You can't talk. How are you and Nancy?" She smiled, feigning confidence.

That struck a serious nerve.

"Fuck you." Steve spat.

"I'd rather not!" Steph countered, before Steve slammed the door on his way back out of the back room.

Oh boy, Robin was in for a treat.

☮︎

After his shift from hell, Steve had immediately called Robin to vent about how horrid his day had been. It didn’t go as well as he would have liked.

"You implied she was a slut!? And didn't expect her to retaliate?" Robin yelled down the phone, and Steve pulled it away from his face and flinched.

"Yeah, well, everyone knows Nancy is a sensitive subject! And in my defense she was a bit of a slut…"

"No, Steve, you need to get a grip and move on! It's been nearly a year since Nancy. She's in a committed relationship with Jonathan, and you need to accept that. Honestly, do you even still like her, or do you just miss being in a relationship?” She paused to gather her thoughts. “Also, I know you did not just call Stephanie a slut. I’m sorry Steve, but when you talk about her you sound a lot like King Steve.”

Steve sighed, his chest aching at the mention of his former self. He wasn’t that guy anymore, but Robin had a point. He did sound like King Steve. And honestly, he didn't even like Nancy like that anymore. It just pissed him off that Steph could get under his skin so easily. He almost had to give her kudos for how well she could do it. It took a special kind of irritation to piss him off that bad. 

"I know Robin.. I'm sorry. I’ll do better."

 “Can you just please, for my sake, just try to be nice. You don't even have to be nice just.. relax or something. Please?"

 "I'll try Robs. I'll try. Best friends?”

“Best friends.”

☮︎

Stephanie, however, came home to exactly what she had expected. Dragging her dad to the tiny trailer bathroom, gagging at the rancid smell of alcohol and vomit. 

"Come on dad.." She dragged him again from the bathroom to his bedroom and heaved him onto the bed, tucking him in. He still stunk, but that was his problem, not hers. She had already done enough. 

Sighing as she retreated back to her end of the trailer, Stephanie undressed and stepped into the shower, the hot water making her relax and loosening her tense muscles. 

The repetitive cycle of life.

Fuck.

Tomorrow was going to be a nightmare.

Chapter Text

After an uneventful week of shifts with Robin (thank god), the time had come for Stephanie to face Steve once more. 

As she had gotten settled in with the job, her tight fitting button up had been replaced with a more casual polo top, top buttons undone. Since the weather was starting to heat up, her hair was swept into a loose ponytail, a few stray strands hanging from the front. She had also replaced her casual jeans with a pair of denim shorts. No way was she spending an entire shift in spring heat with a weak front desk fan, air con in the staff room stuck at 25, and jeans. 

No thank you.

Stepping into the back room, she sighed with relief when Steve was nowhere to be found. She moved to put her bag in her locker, but her peace didn't last long before a bumbling Steve Harrington crashed through the doorway. 

Steph raised a dubious eyebrow.

"I'm surprised you didn't knock the door off its hinges."

"Now's not the time. I have bad news."

Steph's blood ran cold. 

Had something happened to Robin?

"Keith is coming in to supervise our entire shift. For maintenance. Apparently we have a new arrival of stock and he needs us to go through it.” Steve groaned.

A week ago this would've sent Steph into a state of pure panic, but now she was just annoyed. An entire shift with Steve and she couldn't get on his nerves.

Steph frowned. "That's it?"

"What- What do you mean that's it? This is bad- This means I actually have to pretend to like you!"

She soured. "And isn't that just so terrible."

His face softened slightly. "Oh come on, I didn’t mean it like that-"

Steph had already walked away.

"You know what? Fine! I did mean it," He called out to her. "Moody bitch."

Stephanie paused in her tracks. "What the fuck did you just call me?"

"I called you a moody bitch, Anderson! Use your listening ears for once!" 

She spun on her heel, strutting back over and shoving a pointed finger in his face.

"Listen here, Stephen. The only person who gets to call me a moody bitch is me. Not Robin, not my friends, and certainly not you. Are we clear?"

Steve stood his ground, leaning in, feebly trying to ignore the feeling of arousal curling inside him.

She was hot when she was mad.

"I don't know, are we?" He spat instead.

Something inside Stephanie snapped.

She lunged forwards, pushing Steve against the window with a thud. The only problem was, he was much, much stronger than her.

He reached for the closest thing he could grab. Her hair.

He pulled her ponytail harshly, and leant forward to whisper in her ear. "Don't test me, Stephanie."

Sheph whimpered, and her heart sped up as his warm breath fanned against her ear. Steph’s initial shock faded into an uncomfortable realization, a tingle in her lower belly. She quickly masked it with anger, pushing him back harder. Steve noticed her momentary hesitation, his smirk widening, and she felt her cheeks heat up despite herself.

He let her go and she nearly fell to the floor.

"You're such a dick."

"Don't pretend you don't like it."

"Oh I'm not pretending actually."

"Sure sweetheart."

"Don't call me that, ugh." She scoffed in disgust, adjusting her now messy ponytail. 

"Is princess better? You certainly act like one."

Just as she was about to retort, she was interrupted by Keith.

"Good to see my employees getting along well." He said dryly. 

Steph froze, her hand still mid-adjustment on her messy ponytail. Steve turned to face Keith slowly.

Keith gave them a scrutinizing look, tapping his foot as if daring them to continue bickering. “Money doesn’t come out of my paycheck for you idiots to act like you’re in a playground,” he added, clearly annoyed.

"Honestly, I have nothing better to do, and we just got a big delivery so I need you two to sort through it and unpack and blah blah blah. Just make sure everything goes smoothly, because in case you haven't noticed, this is my paycheck too." He clapped his hands together. "And if I catch you bickering like an old married couple again, you're getting double shifts for the next month."

They both flushed.

We're nothing like an old married couple.

Steve forced a strained smile. “Of course, Keith. We’re professionals.”

Steph shot him a death glare but managed a polite nod toward Keith. “Understood,” she said through a gritted smile.

It was almost ironic, their jobs laid in the hands of an asshole who spent his free time eating cheetos and staring at girls' tits in the arcade.

"Listen to me," Steph whispered. "No funny business. You need to at least pretend you like me, okay?"

"Not happening."

"Do you want to keep your job?" She smiled.

Steve rolled his eyes. "I’m only doing this for my job."

And for Robin, he recalled.

Steve was closer to Stephanie than he realised, and he could feel the brush of her arm as he moved. Steph huffed and stepped away, crossing her arms.

“You’re still a jerk,” she replied, attempting to brush past him, but he stepped into her path, blocking her.

“Oh really?” he said, voice low. “Because if I remember correctly, you started this one.”

Steph tried to ignore the flutter of nerves that billowed in her stomach as Steve’s voice rasped.

“Can you move? Some of us actually have work to do.” She snarked.

Steve let out a slow exhale, glancing her over in that same infuriatingly calm way. 

“Fine. By all means, princess,” he said, voice dripping with sarcasm, and stepped aside with a grand arm gesture.

With Keith settled in the corner of the storage room, munching on Cheetos and watching them like a hawk, Steve and Steph exchanged a look of pure disdain before turning back to the task at hand. 

Unpacking and organizing a new shipment of products. 

The boxes were stacked haphazardly, and Keith had, of course, decided that they’re responsible for unpacking the entire stock by the end of the shift. 

The fact that Keith had them working on a Sunday, when the store was technically closed was bad enough.

They reluctantly got to work, each pulling a box from the stack and tearing it open with far more force than necessary.

“Careful there, Anderson,” Steve remarked with a smirk as he caught her nearly tipping over one of the larger boxes. “Don’t want you to break a nail.”

Steph rolled her eyes, yanking a box cutter from her back pocket. “Oh please, I’m not as delicate as you think I am.” She slashed open the tape on her box, the swift motion causing her loose ponytail to brush against his arm. Steve tensed but quickly cleared his expression, feigning nonchalance. 

They began unloading the contents in silence, each trying to avoid brushing against the other in the small storage room. The cramped space made it nearly impossible. Every time they'd reach for a box, they were forced to lean in close, sometimes brushing hands or arms.

After one particularly close encounter where Steph reached up and her elbow grazed his chest, she shot him an exasperated look.

“Can you back the hell up? I’d like to breathe over here.”

Steve crosses his arms. "I don't believe that's a very polite way of asking. I know manners are difficult for you, but maybe give it a try?” He said condescendingly. 

Smirking, Steph replied, "Oh I'm so sorry Stevie. What I meant to say was, can you please just give me some more space? It's making me so nervous." Steph pouted, smiling and looking up at Steve, who had a deep blush crawling across his confused face. 

Steph’s face dropped, "I'm kidding asshole. Fuck. Off." She rolled her eyes.

Steve scoffed and his face morphed into a snarl. "Just shut up and do your job. I don't wanna be here either." 

A plan formed in Steph’s head as she frowned.

She grabbed the box underneath Steve's next box, causing the full box of tapes to crash down onto his legs. 

"Ugh what the hell? You psycho!"

"Everything alright in there?" Keith called out. At some unknown point he had retreated to the front counter to presumably sit in front of the fan and watch R-rated movies on the store TV. Stephanie wished she was in front of the fan, and not in a room that felt like an actual sauna with no air con or fans.

Definitely not helping that their tight proximity caused Steve’s body heat to radiate into Stephanie’s personal bubble.

"All perfect!" Steph replied, turning her attention to Steve. 

"Aw Steve. Are you okay? Need Mommy to come kiss it better?" She said condescendingly, rubbing his legs, which were now turning a fair shade of red. 

Steve gulped, trying to ignore the way Steph's hands felt against his legs. 

They were incredibly soft and gentle, and-

I hate her. She hates me.

"Go fuck yourself, Anderson."

"Oh I'm sure you'd love that, wouldn't you?" She snarked.

Fed up, Steve stood abruptly and left the room. 

"I'm going on my 15!" He yelled. 

Steph rolled her eyes.

Typical men; can't handle a blow to their ego.

In reality, Steve was worked up. Sexually worked up. He hadn't been laid in months, and it was really starting to show.

It wasn't Steph, it was just a conventionally attractive girl that was near him. That was it. She wasn't even that good looking.

Liar. She was the hottest chick in town.

He squashed that voice down. 

He just needed to get laid. That was it. That would help. Then he wouldn't have to think about Steph like that at all.

While Steve was gone, Steph took the opportunity to grab the walkman from her bag. Technically it was her dad's bag, but it was the closest one to the door when she left this morning. She checked the tape in the deck. 

Born in the U.S.A.

Springsteen, classic. It would be better than listening to the janky air con splutter all shift.

Unbothered to rewind the tape, it started off track six.

Interesting.

As the music started playing, Steph returned to unpacking the boxes, Springsteen’s melancholic voice filling her head. With the song blaring in her ears, she didn’t notice when Steve slipped back into the room.

Lost in her own world, she hummed along to the lyrics, her focus entirely on the boxes in front of her.

Leaning casually in the doorway, Steve smirked, amused at her total lack of awareness. He considered sneaking up to startle her, but he felt that would be a tad bit boring, even for his taste. And he didn’t need Keith up his ass either.

He just shrugged internally, moving to sit back next to her, returning to work. He saw her eyes trace him as he walked over.

Not totally unaware then.

He could hear the faint sound of the music echoing from her headphones and began humming along with her. 

After a minute she paused, slowly pulling the headphones off her head so they settled around her neck. 

"Are you... Humming?" She asked.

"Dunno what you're talking about."

"Sure Steve."

"Ha! You just called me Steve. Like, for real this time."

"I definitely didn't. I think all those fights you lost are getting to your head."

Ignoring the sting, he retorted, "Whatever you say, Stephanie."

She pulled the headphones back over her ears to cover the red starting to colour them.

Steve turned back to the boxes in front of him. He stole glances her way every so often, trying to brush off the strange feeling gnawing at him. He didn’t want her attention. He just hated silence.

Liar.

There was that stupid voice again.

He ignored it.

They worked side by side in silence for the rest of the shift, avoiding eye contact, their previous banter forgotten as they focused on the ever-shrinking mountain of boxes. But as the last box was crushed and put away, Steph caught herself stealing a glance in Steve's direction, only to find him already watching her.

Their eyes met for a brief moment, neither of them saying a word, and for the first time, neither of them had a snarky retort ready.

She felt the need to say something to break the tension. Before she could open her mouth, Keith’s voice echoed from outside. “Alright, lovebirds, show’s over. Get out, and don’t forget to lock up.”

Snapping back to reality, both Steph and Steve began to exclaim;

“We’re not lovebirds; I’d never date Steve-”

“You couldn’t catch me dead talking to her voluntarily-”

Keith interrupted their spiel by approaching the door.

“Oh shut up. Seriously, it’s so obvious. I don’t wanna deal with this again.” He waved a cheeto crusted hand in their direction. “Sort it out.”

They both grimaced.

Steph slid the walkman back in her bag, sliding it across her shoulder.

“Seeya next week, asshole.” 

There she was. Back to before.

“I’m already looking forward to it.” Steve replied sarcastically, getting the finger over her shoulder as she opened the door, and Steve tried not to imagine that same hand wrapped around his cock. 

Fuck off.

Steve stood there for a second, processing the shift. They both still hated each other's guts.

Right?

Honestly, he had no idea anymore. He felt their banter had simmered down; it was not as cruel and more… friendly? Maybe he was reaching.

Grabbing his stuff, he made his way to his BMW parked out the front. Steph’s car also sat in the lot, which caused his brow to furrow. It’s not like she was sitting in the driver’s seat or anything, and Steph was not the kind of girl to hang around after work. Especially on a Sunday. Ignoring the nagging feeling that something was wrong settling in his stomach, he unlocked his car, and into the driver's seat.

Odd.

Chapter Text

"Come on piece of shit, start."

Stephanie groaned into the steering wheel. 

She was used to her junk car not working, but of all times? Sunday night, where she had no other method of transportation than walking and her car. Walking was dangerous enough as is, who knew what other things lurked in the Hawkins forest after dark? She could call Eddie or Chrissy, but she was out of quarters for the phonebooth and it was already six thirty. Sighing loudly, she got out of the car and locked it behind her. She knew that calling a tow truck would be nearly impossible at this hour, especially with no money. For a moment she contemplated asking Steve for a lift, or even a quarter, but she hesitated.

He hated her. And she hated him too. No way would he give her a quarter, and no way would she ask.

She sighed again, and started walking in the direction of home. If you could call it home. After her mom had died, her father had fallen to ruin. 

And substance abuse. Of which included drinking, and gambling. The two of them were forced out of their preppy Loch Nora home in favour of a small little cabin in the trailer park, right next to the Munsons’. It was a bit further of a hike than Loch Nora, and also a more uninviting walk. 

The sun was already set, the road bathed in a blue twilight, and less comforting than she would have liked. She stared at the ditch she was walking in, head swimming.

She slumped in annoyance as she heard the sound of brakes slowing and BMW engine slow to a stop beside her.

She sighed once more as she turned, "What do you want Steve? If you're here to pester me about my faulty car then I'd appreciate it if you saved it until next week."

The "I've got enough bullshit on my plate already” dropped from the end of her sentence.

Steph attempted a smile that was more of a grimace, and went to keep walking.

"I was actually wondering if you wanted a lift." Steve stated. Robin’s reprimand echoed in his head. He needed to try and be nice. 

"You, the infamous Steve Harrington, hater of all women whose names are Stephanie Anderson, want to give me, a woman named Stephanie Anderson, a lift?" 

Steve steeled and resisted the urge to just drive away. "You sound shocked. I'll have you know that my kindness does actually stretch beyond charming women and babysitting kids, and also I owe it to Robin, so for the love of God, just get in."

"Oh right, why else would you offer me a lift other than charity?" Stephanie spat, bristling at the inclination that the offer for his lift was one made only out of pity. 

Steve scoffed. "You know that's not what I meant. Now, unless you want to get kidnapped or something before making it to Loch Nora, I'd suggest you get in."

Steph frowned.

Of course. Steve didn’t know Loch Nora no longer housed the Andersons. 

"I'm good, thanks."

Steve groaned and rolled his eyes. 

"I don't understand why you won't say yes. Yeah, we hate each other, but I'd be cruel to just leave you here." The car is now at a stop, Stephanie facing Steve exasperatedly. 

"So be cruel Steve! Just let me walk home! I'm sure you wouldn't mind if I got kidnapped and died anyways." She was yelling now, hands  flying in all directions, making accusatory gestures at Steve.

"Well I'm not gonna fucking leave you here!"

"Do it. You don't have any sort of moral obligation towards me," She moved towards the car door, leaning into the open passenger window. "I can't ride with you."

Steve's expression hardened. "Fine. Since you wanna be little-miss-independent so bad, I'll let you walk. Don't come crying to me though."

He rolled up the window and sped off down the asphalt.

Steph sighed. Honestly, she didn't want to walk home. She actually desperately needed a lift. 

She just couldn't ask Steve to drop her off at a house that no longer belonged to her. 

The walls, once decorated with her mothers tasteful collection of items bought from a shopping magazine, were now empty. Her bedroom, which used to be covered in girly posters and medals from her high school glory days, was now barren, packed in boxes or sold to some secondhand dealer.

That was why she couldn't ask for help.

As she reached the intersection, and looked both ways to cross, a heavy truck with pine logs strapped to his tray pulled to a stop. The raspy voice of a middle aged man called out to her. 

"W'as a pretty lady like you doin' all alone t'night?" He slurred, the actual truck driver cackling along with his clearly intoxicated passenger. 

She ignored both of them, speeding up her walk to get across the road. 

Ignore them, ignore them, ignore-

"Why don’t you go ahead and keep trucking? Pardon the pun."

Was that Steve?

Steph whipped her head to face the direction of the noise so fast she almost broke her neck.

There Steve was, hands crossed over his chest, leaning against the door of his car. The expression on his face was polite and contained, but Stephanie recognised the true emotion in his eyes. It was rage, something she was familiar with, as often it was directed at her. 

Not this time though. 

"Does it look like I'was talkin' to you?"

"You'll be talking to the police if you don't get outta here now." Steve’s voice never faltered, not even for a second. 

Grunting in annoyance, but deciding it wasn’t worth it, the men drove off down the intersection. 

She was surprised Steve had stepped in. And that he had stopped.

"Gonna accept my lift now?"

She nodded slowly, walking over to the passenger seat, whispering a quiet thanks as she got closer.

They sat in silence for the first half of the drive, aside from Steve snarking a quick “I told you so”. Steph was pressed against the passenger door, curled in on herself and as far away from Steve as she could manage. She didn't know what to do about going home. Her dad sure as hell wouldn't notice. He'd just wake up tomorrow and realise he was still on the couch. She could probably sleep in someone's garden, but even the thought made her want to shrivel up and die.

She could practically feel Steve’s rage as it began to bubble up inside him, threatening to overflow at any moment. This was more than just a ride home. This was about everything. This was about them hating each other, and maybe the fact they didn’t even hate each other that much anymore. 

"What were you thinking?" Steve questioned, breaking the uncomfortable silence and giving way to his anger. 

She didn't respond, thoughts swirling like a tornado in her mind.

"Anderson? Come on, answer me, damnit!"

"I didn't want a fucking lift off of you! I don't want your pity, I don't want you to care, I don't want help. Just go back to hating me, it was so much easier."

"I don’t feel bad for you, I just don't want to be responsible for the reason your face is plastered across a missing persons poster all over the town!"

Ah. Will Byers. 

Stephanie rose to the bait.

"Right, because this is all part of your ‘charity work.’ Well thanks so much, you bloody saint." She scoffed.

Steve groaned but didn't respond.

"Just tell me why, at least." He pleaded.

Silence.

"Come on Anderson! Tell me! Fuck!”

"Why the hell do you want to know so bad? Can't help sticking your nose in someone else's business?"

"It is my business if you're getting catcalled in the dark by some drunk pervs rather than getting a lift with me! Then it’s my business!"

Steve felt sick. He knew she hated him, God, he would hate himself too. But choosing to walk home in the dark? Being subject to the lowest of the low that Hawkins has to offer? Steve needed to know why. Not because he cared. Maybe he did. Sue him.

Steph twisted to look at him and when he glanced at her for a split second he could've sworn he had never seen her as angry.

"Fine! If you wanna know so goddamn bad, I'll fucking tell you! My mom died last fall, understand?”

Steve’s breath caught in his throat. He had no idea. “I’m sorry.” He breathes, but Steph powered on. He had a feeling that had worked itself up to this moment, and he just happened to be on the receiving end. 

“My Dad couldn’t handle it and started drinking and gambling, and now suddenly you're in your twenties working at a goddamn family video to pay the rent on a shitty cabin in a trailer park! Okay? I don't live in the rich little hobbit hole of Loch Nora anymore Steve! I have responsibilities that you couldn't imagine! Every single night I go home to find my dad passed out in a pool of his own vomit! Who do you think cleans that up? My maid? No. It's me. I clean it up. I clean up the goddamn sick and I tuck my stupid fucking dad into bed so the cycle can repeat tomorrow. I have been dealing with the past year on my own. So sorry if I don't want to accept your goddamn charity offer to drive me to a house that doesn't even belong to me."

Stephanie doesn't even remember when she started crying, hot angry tears burning lines into her face.

Steve stayed silent for a minute.

"I'm sorry.. Steph, I didn't know."

"Yeah I know you didn't fucking know! I didn't tell you. Exactly for this reason. So now I'm stuck in this stupid fucking car with you.” Her fury dissipated into something weaker. “I don't even know what to do."

Steve had never heard Steph swear so much in one go.

"You're staying with me for the night." He stated without an air of conviction.

Steph froze.

"I am not staying at your house." She almost laughed, the sentence was so strange.

Steve pressed his lips together. "You can sleep in the guestroom. There's an ensuite in there, so you can still shower and brush your teeth." 

"No. Stop being nice to me. Just take me home."

Steve groaned in frustration. "Can't you see? I'm trying to help. Just because I'm offering you a place to stay for one night doesn't mean I don't hate you,"

For some reason, the words feel foreign in his mouth. If he really did hate Steph, would he be offering her this?

Probably not.

"Also, there's no way I'm driving you to the other side of town in the middle of the night."

Stephanie wanted to argue that it was only six thirty. 

She didn't reply. 

"Listen. If you seriously wanna be sleeping on the side of the road or walk miles back to your trailer, be my guest. Seriously," He stopped the car suddenly. "Now's your chance."

Stephanie didn't move.

Steve scoffed. "Of course. You’re all bark no bite,"

"Shut up, Steve.” It seemed Steph’s usual fire was back. “I'll sleep in the guest room and leave first thing tomorrow morning. Deal?" 

Finally satisfied, Steve agreed. "Deal."

The rest of the drive was silent, but significantly less awkward, looming trees casting long shadows over the car.

Glancing over at Steve, Steph had to admit, he was quite attractive. Maybe it was the way the shadows crept across his hands that were gripping the steering wheel, or the way his hair flopped into his face after a long day or-

No.

I hate him.

I'm just tired and delusional.

Steve pulled into the driveway of his mansion, almost ignoring her completely as he stepped out of the car and went to unlock his front door.

"You coming?" He said, bored.

Breaking from her frozen trance, she stepped through his front door, recognising the house from the halloween party last year. Funny how she had put cigarettes all over the car he had just driven her home in.

Not her home, she reminded herself.

Flushing red suddenly, she was reminded of one very cruel detail.

"Uh Steve? I don't have any clothes to change into?"

Steve, also now a dark shade or red, replied, "Um, I'm sure my mum has something?

Steve stomped up the stairs, and Steph followed suit, watching in amusement from the doorway as Steve rummaged through his mothers clothes.

"So there are these?" He held up a pair of bougie grey granny panties, stifling a smile.

Stephanie turned even redder, laughing awkwardly. 

"As much as I appreciate the offer, I’d rather die. I'll just steal some of her pyjamas, I'll be fine."

Steve gulped. "No underwear?"

Steph scoffed.

"No, Steve. No underwear. They're just pyjamas. No big deal. Unless you can't keep your dick in your pants for at least one night, but I'm sure a big boy like you can manage, right?"

She walked over and patted his cheek condescendingly.

Steve coughed in shame. "Yeah, duh.." He said quietly. He ignored how he was currently eye level with her tits. He also ignored how good she smelled. Totally.

"Good. No trouble there then." She smiled, leaning into the drawers next to Steve and pulling out a nightgown. Steve bit his bottom lip and sucked in a breath. 

She was going to kill him.

☮︎

"Steve, are you listening to Madonna?"

Steve froze. He was in the middle of cooking dinner, (microwaving food), and Steph had caught him at the moment where he was humming along to the song, spoon in hand.

He frowned. "What, can a man not listen to Madonna?"

Stephanie laughed. "I didn't say that, it's just surprising.. that's all."

He shrugged.

He took a moment to take in Stephanie. She was wearing a pair of his mother's track pants and a shirt that went down to her mid thigh-

"Hold on- Is that my shirt?"

Stephanie shrugged. "Your mother's pyjamas were a bit too promiscuous for my taste. I thought I’d keep some dignity for when it’s just me and a bed, not when I’m wandering your house." 

Steve barely heard her. He was busy trying to cover the evidence of some very strong feelings he definitely shouldn't be having about Stephanie.

No underwear. My shirt. My house.

Fuck. He was a goner.

Steph frowned. "You alright?"

"Fine." He strained.

He was most definitely not fine.

The beep of the microwave knocked him out of his trance. He placed the two bowls of mac and cheese on the table and began eating. 

Steph sat down across from him and did the same. 

They ate in silence. 

For once in their lives neither one of them had anything horrid to say to the other.

Steve finished first. He placed his bowl in the sink, told Steph to do the same, and stopped at the bottom of the stairs.

"I’m going to bed now, let me know if you need anything." He climbed halfway up the stairs before he hesitated.

"Goodnight Stephanie." He said quietly.

"Goodnight Steve." She smiled.

Maybe Steve wasn't as terrible as she thought.

Chapter Text

Streaks of light filtering in through the blinds pulled Stephanie out of her sleep. The sheets underneath her crinkled softly as she sat up, scrubbing a hand through her knotted blonde hair. It took a second for her to realise where she was, and when it did, her stomach dropped to the floor.

Steve Harrington’s house. 

Her eyes shot open and she strained her head to listen for any sort of sound that might indicate that Steve was awake. 

Nothing.

Silently relieved, Steph pulled back the covers and stepped onto the fuzzy carpet that decorated the floors. Her mind was racing with what to do. Stay? Wait for Steve to wake up and drive her home to her Dad? Leave quietly and spend the entire day making the arduous trek back to the trailer park?

Her options were limited, and she decided the safest one would be to stay with Steve until he woke up and thought of something better. Thankfully, neither of them were scheduled on today, with Robin and Keith shifted to handle the lazy Sunday opening hours. Stephanie was honestly grateful, she wasn’t sure how to begin mentioning this to Robin.

Silently, Steph tiptoed from her room out into the hallway, a small smile creeping onto her face when she walked past Steve’s bedroom and the slightly-ajar door was letting his soft snores echo into the house. She snuck a glance into the room, and her heart did a flip.

He was lying on his back, mouth open, a large forearm slung over the side of his face. If Steph didn’t know any better, she’d think he looked almost… cute. 

Continuing her journey down the stairs to the kitchen, she began rifling through the plethora of cupboards the Harrington home seemed to have. Disappointingly, almost every one was empty or full of what looked to be ridiculously expensive tableware. Eyebrows furrowing, she opened the pantry.

Surely he’s got something in here?

She was right, partially. There was something. An albeit very moulded loaf of bread, 3 cans of butter beans and a giant bag of crisps. Absolutely nothing substantial whatsoever. 

Isn’t he loaded? Where’s all his food?

Steph tried the fridge, which was somehow more barren than the pantry. Eyebrows now forming a giant crease on her forehead, she pried the freezer open. Finally, some food. A box of frozen Eggos, crushed slightly and shoved to the side. 

She pulled them out, shutting the freezer door with her free hand and sliding the toaster closer on the bench. Pulling 4 waffles out, she pushed the toaster down and leant back on the counter, hoping Steve would wake naturally and she wouldn’t have to go in there and ask where his car keys were so she could drive herself back to the trailer park. 

Once the waffles were done, she flicked them onto a plate sourced from the less expensive selection of eating utensils and grinned internally when she spotted a sad knob of butter residing in the fridge door she had missed earlier. As she pulled a knife from the drawer and began buttering the slightly-burnt Eggos, a deep voice from in front of her made her drop the knife onto the plate with a loud clang. 

“What’re you doing up?” It was Steve, standing at the bottom of the stairs, hair sticking in all directions, shirt crumpled and a hand rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“Oh my god, Steve! You scared the shit out of me,” Stephanie exclaimed, her hand now clutched to her chest, the other bracing herself on the counter. “Give a girl some warning next time, jeez.” She scowled.

“Oh sorry, I didn’t realise you lived here,” Steve deadpanned, making his way to the kitchen and snagging a buttered waffle off the plate, shoving it in his mouth. 

“Hey, I was gonna eat that,” Steph pouted. 

“Are the other three sitting on the plate in front of you not enough?” He quipped, one eyebrow raised in mock query. “And plus, these are my waffles. You just happened to be the one to put them in the toaster.”

And, well she couldn’t argue that. So she didn’t. She just picked up the next waffle, threw some butter on it and ate it. The silence was comfortable, surprisingly. She wasn’t used to having this space between them that wasn’t filled with backhanded comments or insults. 

“Do you want a shower? I forgot to offer last night.” 

Truth be told, Stephanie had honestly just fallen into bed, exhausted by the day. Now though, she was reminded of the sticky feeling of sweat and work that had built up on her skin. She desperately needed a shower.

“Yeah, that would be great. I might wash my work uniform first though, I don’t want to get back into it.”

Steve paused, thinking for a moment.

“Just wear some of my clothes. I’ll put your uniform and stuff in the wash while you shower, and you can just wear some of my stuff while we wait for it to wash and dry. It’s just easier.” 

Right Steve. It’s just easier to get your co-worker-enemy-who-happens-to-be-really-hot-to-wear-your-clothes-instead-of-just-waiting. Whatever. He wasn’t complaining.

Stephanie shrugged, “Sure, If you don’t mind.”

“Not at all. Plus I can definitely tell you need it.” He chuckled as Stephanie reached over to smack him on the shoulder.

Oh. That was new. She had never initiated physical contact before, teasing or otherwise. 

Steve on the other hand was reeling internally, his shoulder buzzing from where her hand had slapped him.

Stephanie tried to ignore how solid and warm his shoulder felt. 

“It’s your house, lead the way.” She gestured dramatically to the stairs, trying to ignore the rapid beating of her heart. 

She followed him up the stairs and definitely didn’t stare at his ass the whole time. She stood awkwardly outside Steve’s bedroom, waiting for him to grab her some suitable clothes. He returned a moment later, bundle of clothes in hand and directed her to the shared bathroom at the end of the hall. 

“Here you go. There should be a spare toothbrush and towel in there, but give me a yell if you can’t find anything.” Steve shoved the clothes into Stephanie’s arms. “Where’s your uniform; I’ll put it in the laundry.” 

“Should be on the floor of my room.” He nodded, turning away, but she stopped him. “Hey. Um. Thank you, Steve. For doing this? You didn’t have to, and I really appreciate it.” She smiled softly, not waiting for a response, before looking away and closing the door of the bathroom.

Steve just stood dumbfounded for a minute. She said Steve. She called me Steve.

Blinking slowly, he walked to the guest bedroom to get her uniform. He stopped in the doorway and swallowed thickly, all the blood in his head disappearing at once. Peeking out from the pile of clothes on the floor, was the distinguishing pink lace that belonged to a pair of underwear.

Oh Steve was so fucked.

☮

Stephanie stepped into the shower basin, breathing a sigh of relief as her muscles relaxed under the harsh spray of hot water. She could almost feel the sins of the way wash off her skin and trickle down the drain. 

She had missed having this much space to shower.

After wetting herself down fully, she took a moment to inspect her soap options. A bar of soap caked onto the soap dish, or a near empty bottle of “Men’s ultra tough body wash”. She closed her eyes and sighed. 

Beggars can’t be choosers. 

And so she began to lather the soap all around her, the smell of sea salt and mint infiltrating her nostrils.

Her thighs clenched. She knew this smell. Of course she did.

It was unmistakably Steve. 

She was going to step out of this shower, reeking of none other than Steve Harrington. Oh god.

Part of her felt like this was the universe playing a cruel sick joke, but the other part felt tingly and oddly satisfied. She was going to smell like Steve. She was going to step out of this shower, and wear Steve’s clothes. She grinned to herself.

Once she was out of the shower and wrapped in the ridiculously soft towel Steve had so generously provided, she finally looked through the ball of clothes Steve had bestowed upon her. 

A white and green Hawkins Tigers shirt. A pair of plaid boxer shorts. Something was missing.

Underwear.

Fuck. FUCK. 

Her only underwear was shoved in between her family video vest and her jeans. 

The clothes Steve had taken to the laundry. There’s no way he hadn’t seen.

Stephanie felt herself turn bright red. This was not good.

She slipped into the shirt, trying to ignore the very apparent lack of bra, which was also with Steve, and pulled on the boxer shorts. They had a very wide leg, so one wrong move and Steve would be seeing some real personal stuff.

Once she had brushed her teeth and willed herself out of the safety that was Harrington’s bathroom, she turned the door handle and walked back downstairs.

☮

Steve’s heart was beating a mile a minute. 

Be normal. Coworker. Hate. Hate her. Pink underwear- Fuck.

He was so not being normal. He grabbed the lump of clothes and almost sprinted to the laundry, careful to angle his hands away from the lace. 

He nearly broke the door of the washing machine off in his haste to throw the clothes in, throwing them in the barrel at superhuman speed. 

Stephanie’s black bra and pink underwear are caught on the spinner in the middle of the washer.

Two thoughts pass through his mind,

God, the universe hates him, and, Jesus, how big are her tits?

Trying to be respectful is getting harder and harder. 

Much like something else…

Goddammit!

He flicked the clothing off the spinner, poured in some detergent and slammed the washer shut. His eyes were wide and his heart was pounding. 

He set the washer going and bounded out of the basement, taking the stairs two at a time. 

Steve stood in the living room, face flushed and dick throbbing in his shorts. He shoved all dirty and perverse thoughts out of his head. 

“Steve? Did you just run a marathon or something?”

Steve looked up and his heart stopped.

Stephanie was standing less than a foot away from him in his clothes. Steve’s nostrils flared as he inhaled deeply. She smelt like him.

He could just see the outline of her breasts through the shirt, and the boxers were obviously too big the way they swallowed up her form.

She’s kinda adorable.

Ew, what?

Steve didn’t respond, and only shuffled slightly to hide his crotch behind the dining table chair.

“Just putting your clothes in the wash,” He replied, voice strained.

Realisation crossed Stephanie’s face. 

“You didn’t see my underwear, did you?” She smirked.

What a bitch.

“You know, the pink lacy ones?” She asked innocently.

Steve was so hard he thought he could pass out. 

“Maybe,” he squeaked.

“Is that why you’re all red in the face?” 

He didn’t answer.

“Cat got your tongue, Harrington?”

“Oh shut up. You know damn well I saw them. Just leave it.” He was in hell. This was his karma.

Thankfully, Stephanie dropped it.

“Once those clothes are dry, you’re driving me home.” She hadn’t meant to ask too forcefully, but she felt awkward asking him. Like she liked him. Like she cared if she was nice to him.

Steve paused. “Are you sure? I mean- with your dad, and everything?” 

Stephanie’s face was unreadable.

“Steve. It’s fine. I just need to go home.” She did not want to go home. She wanted her car to work. She wanted to figure out what this thing was between her and Steve. She wanted her Dad to stop drinking.

“What about your dad?” 

“What about him?” She hadn’t meant to come across so aggressive. She hoped Steve wouldn’t retaliate. She couldn’t handle it if he did.

“I can help you. We can take him to a rehabilitation center in the next town over. It’s free, so you won’t have to worry about money.” Stephanie chose to ignore how he knew about that. Unfortunately, it was an excellent idea. The only thing stopping her was the fact it was Steve. Hadn’t she been vulnerable enough? Hadn’t she stripped down enough of herself to him? This was just humiliating now. 

“Um. Sure. Thanks.” Stephanie replied meekly.

Steve nodded. “We can watch something while we wait?”

We. We. We. 

“Sure, Steve.” 

She called him Steve again.

He was so gone.