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You’ve been coming to Family Video for years. Practically since it opened. Your dad loves movies, and he imparted that love onto you. And since you could walk and talk and count out the right change, you’ve been in charge of picking out the weekly watch.
Now that you’re older, you pick out one or two for yourself while you’re at it. You enjoy pretty much anything– from teen comedies to psychological dramas to slasher flicks. Maybe you’re easily entertained, but you just love movies. To be completely accurate, you love stories . You love getting lost in other worlds, spending time with characters of all kinds, experiencing things beyond your own life, beyond your own imagination. In a perfect world, you’d live with stories all the time.
It’s part of why you’re not going to college in the fall. All through high school you tried and tried and the work paid off, you got good grades, but it all felt like a rat race with no purpose. The only time you actually felt motivated was in English class, especially with creative writing assignments. So you’re putting college on hold, maybe forever, getting a job in town to save up while you still live with your parents, and writing in your free time. Well, writing and finding other stories wherever you can– at the library, the bookstore, the movie theater, and Family Video.
So you come to Family Video a lot. You walk in, say hello to Keith, the owner, and then browse to your heart’s content. It's a comforting routine. Familiar, well-loved, expected.
What’s unexpected, however, is finding someone else at the counter when you walk in on an early August afternoon. Unexpected and surprising, making your stomach flip a little bit when you realize just who the someone else is.
Steve “the Hair” Harrington. King of Hawkins High.
Well, former king, anyway. Since graduating in the spring, neither of your high school reputations seem to matter all that much anymore. Once a brainy nobody, now you’re…well, still brainy, but not so much of a nobody.
Still, you don’t expect Harrington to recognize you. You ran in separate circles, far enough apart they may as well have been separate orbits. Maybe even separate universes. He might have learned your name during his brief stint dating Nancy Wheeler, but he’d have no reason to remember it, or you, for that matter.
You plan to just slip into the stacks, browse a little, and then check out. You turn to do just that when you’re stopped short by the sound of your name.
By the sound of Steve Harrington calling your name.
“Hey,” he says, smiling, “Long time, no see. How’ve you been?”
“Hey,” you nod, wondering if you’ve walked into a parallel dimension, “I’m good, how are you?”
“Can’t complain,” he shrugs, and you notice his face is bruised. It’s fading, but you can still see the yellowish shadow around his eye.
“What happened?” You ask, gesturing to his face, “You okay?”
He lifts his hand to his face, as if he didn’t know about the bruise at all before his expression falls into understanding.
“Oh this old thing?” He laughs, but it sounds a little forced. “Just a misunderstanding with a Russian dentist.”
You hum, studying him for a second. He’s different. It’s not just the bruise– something deeper has changed. He’s less of a high school stereotype, less artificially suave, more awkward, more endearing.
“That was a joke.” He clears his throat, pushing a hand through his absurdly tall hair. “Uh, anyway, can I help you find something?”
You almost say no, Keith always knows to let you look on your own, but you’re intrigued by this new Steve Harrington.
“Not exactly,” you say, “I just came to browse, but maybe you can recommend something?”
“Oh, uh, sure,” he stands a little straighter, “What are you into? Movies, I mean. What kinds of movies do you like?”
“I like everything.”
His voice goes up a little in pitch. “Everything?”
You nod, humming your affirmative. He swallows thickly, his adam’s apple bobbing.
“Okay,” he exhales, tapping his index finger on the counter, clearly thinking hard.
Then he surprises you further by vaulting over the counter, landing gracefully on the other side.
He tilts his head to the right with a knowing smile. “Come with me.”
You follow, a small smile tugging at your lips as he leads you to the “From Page to Screen” section. He stops, scanning the shelves with his eyes and his index finger, dragging it across the spines of the tapes.
“Gotcha,” he mutters.
He pulls the tape out, almost dropping it but snatching it out of the air with his other hand before it hits the ground. He exhales in sheepish relief and holds it out for you. You bite your lip to keep from showing your amusement as you take it from him.
“ A Room with a View. ” You meet his curious, expectant gaze, “Interesting. Why this one?”
“It only came out last year so I figured you might not have seen it yet,” he rubs the back of his neck, glancing around instead of meeting your gaze, “And you used to read all the time in school, books like this one, so I figured…and you hate it. You totally hate it. Hang on, I’ll find something else–”
He reaches to take the tape back, but you hold it to your chest and step back, out of his reach.
“No, I love it.” You say, “I mean, I love the book. And you’re right, I haven’t seen the movie yet.”
“It’s good.” He says, “And not just because Helena Bonham-Carter is super hot.”
“You’ve seen it?”
His smile falters for a second and then he laughs again, shoving his hands into his jean pockets.
“I was supposed to write a book report for Mrs. McNulty on it but I never got around to reading it. I saw the title at the Hawk Theater two days before the paper was due and figured it was worth a shot.” He says, “It’s pretty good. You’ll like it.”
“Yeah?” You lift an eyebrow, “Is that a Family Video guarantee?”
His smile brightens and he straightens up, puffing out his chest a little. “Yeah. It is.”
“Alright, then.” you nod, smiling. “I’ll take it.”
“Great. Okay, well–”
“Steve!” A voice shouts, accompanied by a girl with wavy brown hair skidding into the aisle, “You will not believe– oh, hello.”
You recognize her, too. She’s from the year below– one of Nancy’s classmates. You’ve seen her at some of the band parties your friends have taken you to.
“Hey,” You greet her with a smile, “Robin, right?”
“Yeah,” she nods, “And you’re Y/N?”
“That’s me.”
“You guys know each other?” Steve asks, looking between the two of you like you’ve each grown an extra head.
“Not really,” you say, “Mutual friends, but I’ve heard great things about you.”
“Probably lies.” Steve says, and then flinches as Robin socks him in the arm. “Ow!”
“Did this bozo help you find anything yet or has he just been flirting the whole time?”
Steve balks, but doesn’t deny it. You hate to admit it, but a small part of you likes the idea of him flirting with you. Has he been flirting? If he has, it isn’t how you imagined Steve Harrington flirting would be like. You always figured he was all heavy cologne and cheesy pick-up lines, not fumbling jokes and awkward movie recommendations.
“He helped me find tonight’s movie,” you say, holding up the tape as proof.
Steve moves forward, ushering you towards the counter with a hand on your back. The contact is warm and sends a pleasant tingle up your spine.
“I was just about to check her out.” He says.
Robin snorts. “I’m sure you were.”
You hold back laughter as Steve glares at Robin over his shoulder. “Don’t you have inventory to run?”
You like these two– Robin and this new version of Steve. They seem like the kind of people you’d like to be friends with. If you watch A Room with a View tonight and return it tomorrow, maybe you’ll see them again. And maybe Steve will give you another movie recommendation.
~
Steve always gets stuck babysitting. He really shouldn’t have to; “the kids” are hardly kids anymore, they’ll be starting high school in the fall. But they’re still too young to drive (if he wasn’t sure they’d all be menaces behind the wheel he’d advocate for lowering the driving age to fourteen), and Dustin says Mike needs an extra pick-me-up with Eleven and the Byers all the way out in California and Max definitely needs some support from her friends after watching her stepbrother die right in front of her.
Steve never liked Billy very much, but he’s not exactly one to judge flawed family dynamics. So anyway, he agreed to take the kids out to the Bluestone Diner for milkshakes. He regrets it the second they walk inside and he sees the waitress behind the counter.
“Hey, on second thought, why don’t we go to the Hawk? See a movie, get some popcorn.” He says, trying to keep his voice low as he waves the kids back towards the door. “I’d really love some popcorn right now.”
“There’s nothing good playing.” Mike says, looking at him suspiciously.
“Yeah, but bad movies can be fun, right? So bad it’s good. Like Manos: The Hands of Fate. ”
“What’s wrong with you?” Dustin peers at him. “You’re acting weird.”
“Nothing, I just think we should–”
“Harrington?”
He freezes, closing his eyes and breathing out a quiet “dammit” before spinning around with what he hopes is a charming smile.
“Hey, Y/N! How are ya?”
She smiles, that soft kind of bemused smile that makes him think she can see right through him but still likes him anyway. The kind of smile that makes him feel like a fumbling idiot as he tries to draw it out again and again. He is an idiot, but he can hide it most of the time. Around her, he just can’t seem to get his feet under him.
It’s probably because she’s so smart. Way smarter than him. Why does he always have to fall for girls smarter than him?
Also because she’s pretty. Really pretty– beautiful, actually. He always thought she was attractive, even back in high school. He’d see her around, sitting with the other bookish kids– his friends called them the owls. He liked her laugh, and he liked that she wore tennis shoes every day, and he liked that she always had a book to read. Not only the ones they had to read for school, but books just for herself. She liked to read for fun . He never understood that. But he liked it anyway.
“I’m good,” she says, and then smiles at the gaggle of gangly nerds surrounding him, “Who are your friends?”
“Oh, don’t worry about them,” he coughs, “Too many to keep track of. Believe me, I know.”
“I’m Dustin.” Dustin says, oh-so helpfully, and then points to each person in turn, “This is Mike, Lucas, and Max.”
“Nice to meet you all, I’m Y/N,” she says, and then gestures towards the wider dining room. “You guys can seat yourselves wherever and I’ll be right with you.”
Steve heads towards a booth, at least then she’ll only come check on them once or twice and he can hide behind the tall leather seat-backs and pretend he doesn’t actually hang out with a bunch of kids in his free time. He gets about three steps before he realizes the others are all taking seats at the counter, right in front of Y/N .
“Perfect,” he mutters, swinging his legs over the last empty stool. “Just perfect.”
“Do you guys want to look at menus or do you know what you want?” She asks, pulling a pad of paper out of her apron.
“Chocolate milkshakes all around, right guys?” Steve looks down the line of teenagers and then back at Y/N, feeling like he needs to explain, “I’m, uh– the kid– his girlfriend, and their other friend and then her brother–” At the mix of glares and confused stares from the kids, he clears his throat and gives up. “Just five milkshakes.”
“And fries.” Dustin adds, and Steve kicks him behind the counter. “Ow! What was that for?”
“What was what for, Henderson?” Steve feigns innocence, shooting the younger boy a shut up look, and then turns back to Y/N with a strained smile. “I didn’t know you worked here.”
“I started at the beginning of the month,” she explains, getting out five metal cups for the shakes, “Like you and Robin at Family Video.”
“Cool, cool, yeah.” Steve nods, drumming his fingers against the linoleum. “Hey, did you watch Dune yet?”
She smiles again, and nods. “Good, but too much sand.”
“That’s what I said!” Steve grins.
“Are you kidding?” Dustin butts in, and Steve just holds back from kicking him again. “It’s a masterpiece. An adaptation of an all-time science fiction classic.”
“Have you read it?” Y/N asks.
Dustin deflates a little, squirming. “Not all of it.”
“No one has.” She laughs, “It’s impossible to finish. The movie was fun, though.”
“Just a lot of sand,” Dustin finishes, and then holds up his hands in a fair enough gesture.
“Wouldn’t want any of it in your shorts, right?” Steve jokes.
Dustin just stares at him, but Y/N lets out a little chuckle and Steve feels like he could scale a mountain.
“Do you think before you talk?” Dustin asks. “Or do the words just come right out of your mouth?”
“Hey, Y/N?” Steve turns back to the counter, “Make it four milkshakes. And forget the fries.”
“Hey!” Dustin protests, and Y/N laughs again.
Steve knows he’s smiling like an idiot, but then again he is an idiot– an idiot who just made a very smart, very pretty girl laugh, so who cares.
~
You were right about Steve and Robin. They make good friends. As summer turned into fall, the three of you started spending more time together. You’d stop by Family Video even when you didn’t have anything to rent or return, hop up on the counter and hang out. The three of you talk about movies and music and all kinds of nothing and everything. You laugh at how Robin and Steve get under each other’s skin, arguing like children though it’s clear they’re devoted to each other.
At first, you thought they were dating, or at least that Steve had feelings for Robin, but by your third visit Steve went out of his way to assure you they weren’t.
“Platonic with a capital P,” Robin agreed and winked at you, “Harrington’s not my type.”
Steve laughed a little nervously, “Yeah, nope, not at all.”
As far as you can tell, Steve’s type is anything that moves. A part of you admires the egalitarian nature of his attraction, but the other is a little disappointed. You’d sort of hoped…well, you’d hoped his endearingly awkward flirting with you was special.
You know it’s silly, and your high school self would be slapping you across the face to know you have a crush on Steve Harrington . He’s changed, yes, but in all the ways that make him a good friend. He’s kind and a little goofy and cute and he likes movies and asks about the stories you write with such genuine interest your chest goes all squeezy. But he’s still a flirt, and a serial dater– one date and then dumped. Having romantic feelings for him is a surefire way to get yourself hurt.
It’s just that sometimes…sometimes you wonder if he has feelings for you too. You’re all friends, but he tends to go a step or two further than he does for Robin or she does for you. He rushes ahead to get the door for you, he shows up at the Bluestone while Robin’s at school and orders stuff like toast and coffee just so he can hang out at the counter and talk to you while you work your shift, he keeps track of the movies you rent and remembers which ones you like and don’t like so he can come up with better recommendations, and he drives you all over the place.
You’re usually happy to walk, and you tell him as much, but he insists it’s on his way. How the dry cleaner’s on the edge of town could be on the way to anywhere is beyond you, but you’re not one to turn down free transportation and the chance to spend more time with him.
Like tonight, he and Robin invited you to a movie night at Steve’s house. It seems like something they do a lot in the summer, but this is the first time Robin doesn’t have band practice or a shift or too much homework, and it’s the first time you’ve been invited.
Steve offers to drive you again, but you tell him it’s ridiculous for him to leave his house and pick you up only to go back to his house again. Only you spend a little too long trying to pick the best not-too-nice-but-still-cute clothes and leave later than you planned. By the time you get there, Robin and Steve have all the snacks set up and ready to go.
“Hey, sorry I’m late,” you say.
“We were getting worried,” Steve laughs, but you don’t think he’s joking, “We were about to send out a search party.”
“ Steve was worried.” Robin corrects, flopping down on the couch and tossing a piece of popcorn in the air to catch it in her mouth, “I know you’re just a slowpoke.”
You scoff out a laugh, shaking your head.
“Can I get you something to drink?” Steve asks.
“What do you have?”
“Uh,” he squints, clearly struggling to remember. “Actually, maybe you should just come look.”
“Okay,” you agree, and follow him through to the kitchen.
He opens the fridge door and gestures to the contents, “Take your pick, m’lady.”
“A coke sounds good,” you say, and he grabs a bottle before you can, spinning away to find a bottle opener.
You look around the large kitchen, much emptier than the one other time you’ve been there. Your friend’s boyfriend dragged her to one of Steve’s famous parties and she’d dragged you along in turn. You knew the house was huge, but it seemed smaller when it was packed to the gills with drunk teenagers.
“I’ve been here before,” you say, “For a party in high school.”
“Yeah,” he says, handing you the opened bottle. “St. Patrick’s Day, 1984.”
The bottle is cold against your fingers, beads of condensation gathering on the outside. “You remember?”
“I get drunk,” he says, smiling ruefully, “But I never black out.”
“No, I meant,” you swallow, feeling silly for even saying it, “I didn’t think you knew who I was. Or cared, I guess.”
“I cared.” The humor falls from his expression, turning thoughtful and serious as he holds your gaze. “I was just too scared to show it.”
Your chest goes squeezy again and you should really write that down to put into a story someday but you can’t bring yourself to pull your gaze away from his. He inhales, as if preparing to say something else.
“Y/N, listen–”
“Hey numbnuts!” Robin shouts from the living room, startling you both from the trance you’d fallen under. “Are we going to watch this movie or what?”
“Yeah, yeah, alright,” Steve yells back, “We’re coming.”
You sit on the opposite side of the couch from Robin, with Steve between the two of you. Robin chose the movie Labyrinth , one you haven’t seen before, and as much as you want to pay attention to David Bowie and Jennifer Connolly and their muppet co-stars, all you can think about is Steve. Steve’s thigh pressing warm against yours, Steve’s arm bumping into yours every once in a while, Steve’s smile as he turns to you and cracks a joke about “Bowie’s magic balls,” Steve looking at you in the kitchen like you were the only person in the world, Steve about to tell you something, Steve cared about you, Steve cares about you.
In what feels like the blink of an eye and an eternity all at once, the movie is over. You nod and smile and hope you’re convincing enough when you agree with their assessments of the film even though you remember very little.
Steve offers to drive you home again, both you and Robin, and you don’t fight him on it. You sit in the back and Robin sits in the passenger seat. They talk and tease each other while you look out the window into the Hawkins night, trying to talk some sense into yourself. Steve drops Robin off and you send her a smile and a quiet “good night,” a little confused when Steve doesn’t pull back out of the driveway.
“Are you going to come up here?” He asks, looking at you through the rearview mirror, “‘Cause otherwise I’ll feel like I’m running a taxi service.”
“Yeah, of course, sorry.” you say, getting out and moving up front.
“That’s better.” He smiles at you, putting his arm on the back of your seat as he backs out onto the street again.
It’s just a few blocks to your house, and you’re sitting in your own driveway in only a minute or two. Before you can get out, Steve inhales purposefully again, and you freeze.
“That was fun tonight.” He says, running a hand through his hair.
“Yeah,” you nod, “It was.”
“Would you–” he clears his throat, “Want to hang out again?”
Your stomach swoops with hopeful excitement, but you’re not totally sure what he’s asking. You’re not sure if this is friend Steve or flirt Steve, and you’re not even sure which one you want it to be.
“Like tonight? With you and Robin, or…”
“Yeah, like tonight.” He answers quickly, “With me…and Robin. Yup.”
He turns to look out the windshield, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel. You can see him pushing his tongue against his cheek, brows furrowed slightly.
“Well let me know when the next movie night is,” you say, feeling a lump of disappointment forming in your throat, “I’ll be there.”
“Definitely. Will do.” He promises, flashing you a brief smile.
“Okay,” you open the car door slowly, waiting just in case he has anything else to say.
He doesn’t. And you get out of the car.
“Good night, Steve.”
“‘Night, Y/N.”
He waits until you’re safely inside your house, but you don’t turn back to watch him drive away. You just climb the stairs to your bedroom and drop face down onto your bed.
~
“I am an idiot.” Steve groans, dropping his head onto the counter.
“I know. That’s why I call you ‘Idiot,’ you idiot.” Robin says. “What did you do this time?”
“I didn’t do anything!” He groans, “That’s the problem.”
“What are you talking about?” She asks, already sounding fed up with him.
Steve sits up suddenly, needing to get the truth he’s been carrying for weeks off his chest. “I think I’m in love.”
Robin’s eyes widen for a second before they roll, a scoff huffing out of her mouth.
“ Come on , Harrington! You think you’re in love every other day!”
“I’m serious, Robin!” He argues, pushing away from the counter, starting to pace in the little area behind the desk, “I mean I always thought she was pretty, but then I actually got to know her, you know? And I realized how amazing she is— I mean, she’s just…she’s smart and funny and actually cool, like calm and collected cool, not like, stupid high school cool. I really really like her, Robin.”
“Wait, wait, wait,” Robin holds up her hand, “Are you talking about who I think you’re talking about because if you’re talking about who I think you’re talking about then this is—”
“Y/N! I’m talking about Y/N!” Steve spins around, throwing his hands up. “Who else would I be talking about?”
“Oh, I don’t know, maybe the twenty other girls you’ve flirted with in the last week?”
His chest squeezes with remorse. Those other girls hadn’t meant anything– they were just…affirmations. He feels shitty admitting it even to himself, but sometimes he likes to flirt just to remember he can , that he hasn’t lost his touch. They were just meaningless fun, distractions from the very real, very scary feelings that have been growing inside him. He runs a hand through his hair, tugging on the strands in frustration.
“I am an idiot .”
“Okay, okay, so you’re in love with her.” Robin speaks more gently. “That’s great! I always thought she’d be good for you, but you wouldn’t deserve her unless you pulled your gigantic head out of your ass.”
“Gigantic?” Steve touches his forehead, a touch of fear breaking through his distress.
“Don’t worry about it.” Robin waves him off. “Look, what exactly is the problem?”
“I wanted to ask her out. Last night, I was going to tell her how I feel and ask her out, but I just froze. I started thinking about what would happen if she said no and I didn’t want to fuck everything up, so I just…didn’t do it.”
“Why not? It’s pretty obvious she’s into you too, dumbo.”
“Because it could ruin— wait, she is?”
“Yeah, idiot,” Robin rolls her eyes, “You should see her face whenever you flirt with a customer.”
His heart simultaneously soars and sinks. “She…when I… oh no , I am—”
“An idiot. Yes, we’ve established this.” Robin cuts him off, “Seriously, Steve, just ask her out. It’s that simple.”
Her words, matter of fact and just a little bit stern, strike him in the chest. Steve stops, and takes a deep breath. She’s right. It’s not that hard, he should just do it. He’s Steve Harrington for god’s sake.
“Okay,” he nods, shaking out his hands, “Okay, the next time I see her, I’ll ask her out.”
And then, because Steve’s entire life is just one cosmic joke, he hears the bell above the front door jingle and looks up to see Y/N walking into the store.
His entire body goes still, overtaken by a swirl of emotions– surprise, anticipation, a healthy dose of fear, and most of all, warm affection. She’s wearing a wool sweater that’s about two sizes too big, the sleeves hanging past her hands and the hem falling to the middle of her jean-clad thighs. She looks cozy and warm and a little tired but also so incredibly beautiful.
“Hey guys,” she says, giving a little wave as she steps inside.
“Hey Y/N!” Robin greets, her voice far too bright and her smile far too excited, “I’d love to stay and chat but this guy just returned like twenty porno tapes and I gotta go reshelve them so you probably won’t see me for a little while anyways Steve will take care of you I’m sure okay bye!”
Finishing her long, single-breath sentence, Robin practically bolts from the main floor, yet still manages to punch Steve in the arm on her way past.
“Ow!” He rubs the sore spot on his bicep.
“What’s up with her?” Y/N asks, looking towards where Robin has disappeared into the curtained-off “Adult Video” section.
“Dunno. She’s got issues. Lots of ‘em. ” Steve shrugs, feeling oddly out of breath, “Anyway, I kinda need to talk to you about something.”
Y/N meets his gaze, her expression open and sweet with patience and care. “Are you okay?”
“Me? Yeah, yeah, yeah, totally,” he swallows thickly, “I just, uh, had a question to ask you.”
“Okay…” she says, watching him carefully.
Steve takes a deep breath, but he feels impossibly far away from her. The counter separating them is too tall, too wide, it may as well be an ocean. So he plants his hands on the countertop and vaults over the other side, landing on the floor much closer to her.
Her eyes widen a little, her gaze traveling quickly down his body before snapping back up, like she’s impressed with him. The idea puts a little extra spark of confidence in his chest.
“Okay, so,” he takes another breath, “Do you want to go out with me? Just me. Not Robin. Like a date. Not like a date. A date. With dinner and candles and everything. Unless you don’t like dinner, I mean, of course you like dinner, but like if you don’t like restaurants we could go to the movies or–”
“Steve,” she puts a gentle hand on his arm and he snaps his mouth shut, his heart pounding in nervous anticipation. “I’d love to go out with you.”
“Really?” He breathes.
She nods, a sweet, shy smile lifting at her lips. He feels like dancing or jumping up and down or some other equivalent victory gesture. Instead, he moves his arm so he can take her hand in his.
He grins, “How about tonight? Enzo’s. I’ll pick you up at, uh, seven.”
“Yeah, okay.” She agrees, her own smile growing. “That sounds good.”
“Okay,” he echoes, nodding over and over, “Cool.”
They just stand there for a second, staring at each other, smiling and holding hands.
“Are you guys kissing?” Robin’s voice shouts from behind the curtain, “If you’re kissing can you do it where you won’t scare away the customers?”
Y/N breaks eye contact, laughing in embarrassment. Steve doesn’t have it in him to be embarrassed right now. He’s too happy. Plus, he takes Robin’s warning as more of a suggestion, tugging on Y/N’s hand and leading her away to the back of the store, back to where they’d first really talked, at the “From Page to Screen” section. He pulls her back behind the tall shelves and then presses his hands against the metal structure on either side of her head, loosely cageing her in– it’s a move he used to pull with girls in the school library, and it works every time.
Except the video shelves aren’t nailed to the floor like the library stacks and this one starts to tip backwards until Steve grabs the edge of the shelf and yanks it back, sending several tapes falling to the floor around their feet.
Y/N bites her lip in the way she does when she’s trying not to laugh. Steve would feel ashamed if she didn’t look so adorable like that– reminding him of why he brought her back here in the first place. He steps closer, and she looks up at him with wide, interested eyes.
“I really want to kiss you.” He says, only vaguely registering how desperate he sounds when he says it out loud.
“I really want to kiss you, too,” she whispers, tilting her face up towards his.
“Cool.” He says, lifting one hand to cradle her cheek while the other finds its place against the scratchy-soft wool of her sweater.
She inhales, probably to say something else, but he just can’t wait anymore. He closes the distance between them and presses his lips to hers. He tries not to come on too strong, keeping things soft and gentle. He intends to pull back after just a second, to make sure it was okay, when her arms wrap around his neck and her hands are buried in his hair and she’s kissing him back and he’s not sure if his head or his heart will explode first.
He slides the hand at her waist around her back and the hand on her cheek to the back of her head, pulling her closer, tighter against his body. She lets out a little puff of air, parting her lips against his and allowing him to deepen the kiss. Without thinking– really, how could anyone expect him to have thoughts right now? He presses her backwards until she’s against the shelves.
Except, he’s an idiot, and the shelves still aren’t nailed down, so of course they fall backwards. This time he keeps his hold on her, making sure she doesn’t go down with them, wincing as the metal frame hits the floor with a crash.
“Are you okay?” He asks, pulling back to look for signs of pain, his hands skimming over her face and arms.
“I’m fine,” she says, “Sorry about–”
“No, no, it was my fault,” he insists, letting out a self-deprecating laugh, “I got a little carried away.”
“Oh, Jesus Christ.” Steve looks up and Y/N turns around to see Robin standing on the other end of the aisle, taking in the destruction before leveling a threatening finger at him. “Your mess, you clean it, Idiot!”
“Hey, no problem!” Steve waves, unable to contain his smile. Nothing’s going to bring him down today. Not even this.
Especially after Y/N presses a sweet kiss to his cheek and says: “I’ll help.”
“You two are going to be insufferable.” Robin groans, stalking back towards the checkout counter.
“Don’t mind her,” Steve says, stepping away from Y/N to pick the shelf back up. “She’s actually delighted.”
Y/N looks up from where she’d bent down to start collecting fallen video tapes. “So am I.”
Steve grins. Like the idiot that he is.