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Jonathan would like to blame the warmth in his face on the heat of the room, filled as it is with people. Steve's house is big, bigger than he ever realized from the outside. They have an entire section of it cleared out for gatherings such as this; get togethers with business partners. Reunions, too, on the—very rare according to Steve—occasion that they hold one. Spacious as it is, there are still a lot of people and it has become steadily warmer as the night goes on.
Maybe he could blame it on the champagne Steve pressed into his hand when trays of bubbling flutes began making the rounds along the room. Jonathan swallows, leaning further into Steve's side, and knows none of that is true. He's been warm since long before the party was in full swing.
He started out the evening with Steve's arm around his shoulders. Close, but not connected shoulder to ankle. As the evening continues and they mingle with more of Steve's parents' guests, Steve has pulled him closer. Jonathan stops being able to pay attention to any of it the moment Steve's hand begins sweeping across his back, fingers tracing absent paths that Jonathan can just feel under the formal jacket Steve bought for him to wear tonight.
After weeks of events just like this one, Jonathan should be used to it. Steve has always been a tactile person. But before this whole thing started, Jonathan was just getting used to the way Steve would squeeze his shoulder or punch his arm. And none of this means anything. He's doing Steve a favor, helping keep his parents from siccing every associate's single daughters and sons at him.
For weeks.
It's maddening and he never wants it to end.
"Thanks again, man," Steve whispers, leaning in close. His breath tickles at Jonathan's ear and it takes effort not to react. This is ridiculous, he's ridiculous. Getting a grip on himself shouldn't be so difficult.
He nods, wanting to smile but not sure it will come out right.
"Really." Steve nudges their shoulders together. It's a little awkward and they both sway with the motion since he doesn't move his hand from Jonathan's back. "I know these aren't your kind of thing."
"They're not," Jonathan agrees easily because to try and claim otherwise would be impossible. Parties aren't his thing, whether they're high school parties with bad music and too much alcohol or formal like tonight, full of people who are all probably secretly judging him. "But the company isn't terrible."
Steve grins and his face is so close. It would take nothing at all to lean in and kiss him. Jonathan even has a built in excuse to get away with it. There is a reason they've been attached at the hip all evening, after all. The same reason he's been to so many parties similar to this one over the last month.
It feels...too real. When Steve's parents have left town again, things are going to go back to normal. Jonathan can't initiate it, can't let himself get caught up in the lie. He doesn't trust himself not to do it again when the pretense is over.
"Not bad at all," Steve says before taking a sip from his glass. He's forgone the champagne, sticking to something non-alcoholic tonight. Steve prefers a beer or whiskey, neither of which have been options at any of the events his parents have thrown. Instead he's sticking to the sparkling cider they have available for the few kids that were brought along.
Steve raises his eyebrows after his drink. It's endlessly amusing for Jonathan that he can't move one by itself without more effort than it's worth. The smile he couldn't manage before forms easily now.
"What?" Jonathan asks.
"You're nearly a free man," Steve says.
With an enquiring sound, Jonathan takes a sip from his own glass. Before this month, he never would have thought that champagne was for him. Their first night pretending, he'd had a sip of Steve's and loved it. Something else he'll miss when things get back to normal, he guesses.
Steve nods towards the rest of the room. "Last one of these you're gonna be stuck at for a while."
Swallowing hard, Jonathan slowly lowers the flute away from his mouth.
"What?"
"Yeah," Steve starts and his smile doesn't seem as bright as before, "some new opportunity came up or something, I don't know. They're leaving on Monday."
"Wow." It comes out stilted, almost catching in his throat. He tries to keep his smile because he should be happy about this. These parties are...awful. They're full of people just like the Harringtons; more concerned with their images and their money than anything else.
But that's not entirely true. Jonathan hates the atmosphere and the people, but he's laughed more with Steve at these things than he has in...He can't even remember. They amuse themselves by watching the guests with all their fake smiles and the way they have to visibly hold themselves back from commenting on Steve's choice of date. Apparently they had been just as eager to set their kids up with Steve as his parents.
Now it's ending, two weeks sooner than it was supposed to, and Jonathan isn't ready. He isn't ready to stop spending most of his free time with Steve, in each other's space. Isn't ready to give up the touching. He's going to have to learn to be content with the occasional pat on the back or shoulder again. Go back to no longer being the center of Steve's attention.
He sets his empty glass down with some others on a table and tries to think about anything else.
It's impossible to pull himself together for the rest of the party. Jonathan feels Steve's concerned looks. He doesn't blame him. Jonathan hasn't managed a decent smile for any of the minglers since Steve told him. His world isn't falling apart—he knows more than most what that actually feels like—but it's not as far off as he would like it to be.
When the evening started he mostly couldn't wait for it to end—at least the main chunk of chitchatting. Now he finds that it's over far too soon. After the first couple leaves, the rest seem to follow their example.
"Jonathan."
Steve's mother crosses the room toward them, thanking some guests for coming as she walks. She smiles when she reaches them. He's never met anyone else who could look so unhappy while they smile.
Over the last month, he's caught the way her eyes track her husband. They narrow, barely-there lines showing when he talks with a woman for any significant amount of time. He's asked Steve why his parents are still together, why his mom stays when she knows what his dad does. Steve shrugged with a frown that Jonathan had wanted to kiss away, before giving a humorless smirk and saying the money and status were worth more to her than being happy.
Jonathan wraps an arm around Steve's waist, rubbing his thumb against Steve's side. Some of the tension that built up at the sound of Mrs. Harrington's voice eases off. Steve meets his eyes with a brief, grateful smile before facing his mother again.
"Has Steve told you the news?"
"Yeah—Yes. Something about a new opportunity cutting your visit short? That's too bad," he says and ignores the quiet sound Steve makes beside him, like a stifled snort.
"Mmm." Mrs. Harrington fusses, though not quite as motherly as the word implies in Jonathan's opinion, over Steve's still-impeccable lapel. "I'm sorry we haven't had the chance to really—" her eyes trace him from his shoes to his head "—get to know the boy our Steven has chosen."
Steve stiffens beside him with all the tension from a minute ago, and more. He can't stand any straighter than he already is but seems to try. Jonathan squeezes his side before he can speak.
He appreciates that Steve wants to defend him. Even though their romantic relationship isn't real, Steve does consider him a friend and he hates it when people look down on his friends. Especially when the people doing it are his parents. But this isn't real and it doesn't matter what his mother thinks of Jonathan's background or his family or his financial situation. It isn't worth picking a fight over. Especially when they're going to be leaving so soon.
"You're both so busy," he says, grateful for all the practice he's gotten at talking to her, and people like her, at these things. "I'm sure we'll get the chance next time you're in town."
He feels Steve's eyes on him but doesn't take his own off Mrs. Harrington. Her smile freezes. "Yes, of course. If you two are still—"
"We will be," he tells her, enjoying the way she blinks at his interruption. He gets the feeling that the only person who interrupts her normally is her husband.
"Yes, well. If we don't see you again before we leave, I hope you have a good," she pauses like she can't think of anything she wants to wish him well on, "weekend."
"Thank you." Jonathan bares his teeth in a grin. "Have a safe trip."
She gives him one last tight smile and robotically pats Steve's shoulder before turning with a small sniff to say goodbye to the last few remaining guests.
"What's gotten into you?" Steve asks with quiet awe once she's out of earshot. He looks at Jonathan almost like he's never seen him before. It is the first time Jonathan has been anything less than polite with either of Steve's parents.
Jonathan smoothes a hand over Steve's jacket, then slowly over the shoulder Mrs. Harrington had patted like hugging her son had never once crossed her mind. It's no wonder Steve is so free with his touches; he is a tactile person cursed with a family that only ever seems to touch him when they're fixing something, whether it needs it or not.
"I don't know what you're talking about," he says.
Steve raises his eyebrows at him but doesn't move to put any distance between them. His shoulder has gone stiff under Jonathan's hand in the way that means he doesn't want him to stop but thinks if he moves, so will the person touching him.
Jonathan doesn't move his hand.
"So, uh." Steve licks his lips. Jonathan does his best not to stare, keeping his eyes on Steve's. "We're still gonna be a thing the next time they're in town?"
He did say that, didn't he?
"I didn't like the way she acted like it was impossible," he says, squeezing Steve's shoulder. "You can fake date me as long as you need to."
Steve sighs through his nose, the corners of his lips edging down. Shit, knowing he has a set person to go to in order to fend off his parents' matchmaking attempts was supposed to make him feel better, not upset him.
Steve opens his mouth but is interrupted by his father before he can speak. Mr. Harrington barely deigns to glance at Jonathan. His disappointment in Steve's choice of boyfriend has been clear since day one. He is quieter about it than Jonathan expected, though.
He's learned all kinds of things since he started "dating" Steve. One of those things is that his dad is quiet in his disappointment and Steve hates it. His dislike—hatred, even—of silence makes so much sense now. Jonathan prefers the quiet after growing up with Lonnie and his rage—so much yelling and broken plates and glasses. He can understand the need to surround yourself in the exact opposite of that kind of thing.
"Your mother needs help cleaning up," Mr. Harrington says as though she didn't hire staff to do exactly that once everyone has left. Steve's lips thin. Jonathan nods for him when Steve doesn't say anything.
"I should probably be heading home anyway," he says. Mr. Harrington nods, looking at Jonathan a second longer than he had a moment ago before turning to go...somewhere else. Probably to hide away with a drink since there's no getting away with sneaking out on his wife tonight.
"You don't have to go," Steve says but it's half hearted at best. It won't be pleasant for either of them if he sticks around after being dismissed by Steve's parents. They won't force him to stop dating someone they see as less than, but they don't have any problems making it obvious how unwelcome he is when everyone else is gone.
They're lucky this isn't real. Jonathan wouldn't take it personally even if they were dating; he knows he isn't exactly a catch. Not to people like the Harringtons. But Steve has enough trouble dealing with them disliking his friend. If this was real, Jonathan doesn't want to think about how Steve might react to some of their opinions.
"It's fine." Jonathan curls his fingers tighter on Steve's shoulder. His mother is still around, waving off the last of the stragglers by the door.
They should have had weeks more of this and as hard as it all has been, Jonathan hates that it's over so soon. Who knows the next time they're going to come back? If Steve will finally be with someone by then. Or even if he's not, whether he'll want to do this with Jonathan all over again.
This might be the last time he ever gets to do this.
Steve's cheek is warm under his hand. He sweeps his thumb against it, just under his eye. This part isn't new. Jonathan has almost gotten used to it—a problem he's going to have to deal with later. For tonight he lets himself lean in, pressing his lips to Steve's. They go slack under his. He doesn't know whether it's from surprise or something else—can't let himself think of what that something else could be—because this is the first time he's initiated anything. Every other time, Steve has been the one to make the first move.
It's only a moment before Steve is kissing him back. Before this month, Jonathan had spent a lot of time carefully not thinking about how good of a kisser Steve might be. Turns out, he's really good at it. That may not be the right thing to base a real relationship on, but Jonathan finds himself surprised every time they do this that Steve still doesn't have anyone. That his last long-term relationship was when he was dating Nancy Wheeler in high school.
Those few people who Steve has been with...they don't know just what they've let go. Steve is a good guy. The best, really. He helps smooth some of Jonathan's jagged edges. Gets him to relax and have fun when he might otherwise have been too caught up in worrying about a bunch of things he can't control. He lets Jonathan do the same for him. It's part of why they work as friends, he thinks.
He pours as much of that as he can into the kiss; their last kiss. Keeps it soft because his feelings for Steve are soft. They warm him from the inside. Even when this is over and he's fighting to keep his hands to himself because he doesn't get to just touch whenever he would like to anymore, Jonathan is still going to feel soft for Steve Harrington. He's still going to love him. Doesn't know how there are people who have met him—people who are related to him—who don't love him when it's so, so easy to do.
The moment goes on longer than he means it to. He can't seem to make himself pull away. Not when he knows that means it's over. Eventually, though, he gentles it even more. He's already pushing his luck.
Steve's eyes are still closed when Jonathan leans back. Jonathan smiles with tingling lips. When he sweeps his thumb over Steve's cheek again, Steve blinks his eyes open. He looks blown away and a little confused and when he starts to speak, Jonathan cuts him off.
"I better go," he says, the words rushing out too quickly but he can't stay much longer. Not after that.
Thankfully the Harringtons are eying him meaningfully enough that he can nod his head in their direction. It gives him an excuse to leave that isn't just him running away. "See you later, okay?"
He takes one last chance and squeezes Steve's hand. There's a moment as he steps away when he thinks Steve holds him tighter, tries to get him to stay. Then their hands part and he leaves, trying to walk at a normal pace when all he wants to do is jog to his car.
When he drives away, he catches a glimpse of Steve watching him from the doorway. His shaky wave gets returned and he blows out a breath, focusing on the road instead of checking the rearview mirror the way he wants to.
Monday morning, Jonathan is lost in thought and staring hard at the plate he's drying without seeing it when his mom asks, "Are you okay?"
"What?" he asks, blinking out of the weird blank state he'd been in.
His mom is giving him a look usually reserved for Will when she thinks he can't see it. His brother still hates being treated like...well, like he's gone through the kinds of things he has. They do their best not to walk on eggshells around him but it isn't always easy. Still, Jonathan almost turns around to see if Will is behind him when he sees that look on her face.
"You seem a little distracted this morning. The past couple of days, really."
She leans into the counter, facing him and rubbing his back. Jonathan starts to relax the moment she touches him.
He's not entirely surprised at the tension he'd been holding. Not when he keeps thinking about the way Steve had looked at him just before he'd all but run out of there the other night. How much of it had he imagined? There was a moment when he was sure Steve wasn't going to let him go. It has to have been wishful thinking, right? None of it was real.
His mom doesn't know, never knew, what they were doing. Hawkins might be small but there was never any worry over her finding out. The Harringtons weren't likely to try and strike up a conversation with her. They only even spoke to him because they couldn't get away with ignoring him when he was Steve's official date to all of their events. On top of that, Jonathan doesn't think Steve's parents ever even come into town themselves. Can't imagine they've ever stepped foot in Melvald's in all their years living here.
"Just...got some things on my mind, I guess," he says with a shrug. She doesn't stop rubbing his back.
"You know you can talk to me about anything."
He smiles and nods, setting the plate on the counter.
"I know," he says, and he does. She would listen and try to make him feel better and probably try convincing him of things that aren't true. For now he needs to wait this out. Get his head straight. See Steve, hang out with him like they used to now that things are back to normal.
"Okay," she says, combing her fingers through his hair. He leans into it. "Go do something fun for a bit. I'll finish these up."
"Are you sure?" he asks, looking at the last of the dishes in the sink. There aren't many left, but he doesn't mind finishing it first.
"Absolutely. I've got this."
He snakes an arm around her, hugging her to his side.
"Thanks," he says into her hair, still feeling small despite being taller than her. She pats his back and he can feel her smile against his shoulder before she playfully pushes him away from the sink.
Jonathan has the day off and plans to spend the morning in bed with his music playing low. The last time he did this...he can't actually remember the last time he relaxed to his music.
Sometimes Steve will let him share whatever he's currently obsessed with. They'll hang out in Steve's room and alternate the music they blast into his otherwise silent house. He'll never admit it, but Steve doesn't have terrible taste in music. Unfortunate taste, but not terrible.
Shit, he's thinking about Steve again. What if they don't get another afternoon like that? What if they do and Jonathan gets caught up in his feelings?
When he agreed to help Steve out, he should have known he would feel like this. He hates that he's gotten to experience so much of what dating Steve would be like. Kissing him, Steve's hand on his cheek the way he's seen him do with girlfriends before. Feeling him standing against him shoulder to thigh.
A knock on the door interrupts his thoughts. Scrunching his face in confusion, and not a little frustration at having to move, Jonathan pushes himself up in his bed. Giving it a second, he wonders if maybe he'd been falling asleep and imagined it. Who would be coming over right now? Unless Will's friends are coming over, they don't get many people knocking on their door and Will isn't home.
The sound comes again—not his imagination, then—and Jonathan gets out of bed. He looks down at his ratty shirt and too big pajama pants and knows he should change but can't bring himself to do it. It's still his day off. He plans on getting right back in bed when he's sent whoever it is away.
Immediately after opening the door, Jonathan wishes he'd taken the time to at least run his fingers through his hair. He can tell by the way Steve's eyes dart to the top of his head that it's sticking up from lying around in bed all morning.
"Steve, hey," he says slowly, looking at the doorknob and back at him. "The door wasn't locked."
"No, yeah, I know, I just." Steve blows out a breath and roughly brushes a hand over his hair. Jonathan raises his eyebrows. Steve messes with his hair a lot—there's a lot there to mess with. But he usually takes more care with it.
Jonathan opens the door wider, nodding Steve inside. He doesn't know what's going on, but just because he was hoping for one more Steve-free day to get his head back on straight doesn't mean he's not going to invite him in and find out. His hand tightens on the knob when Steve hesitates. It's barely a second, not even, before Steve shakes his head and brushes past Jonathan and into the house. It's long enough for him to start worrying.
He can't remember the last time Steve didn't let himself in. Hell, Jonathan's come home to find Steve in the kitchen making something for dinner because he was bored and knew him and his mom would appreciate it when they were both tired from work.
Jonathan closes the door with a deep, quiet breath. He turns to follow Steve into the house but almost walks right into Steve's chest. Clearing his throat, Jonathan tries not to think about why Steve is suddenly so uncomfortable here. It's impossible not to remember the other night, though.
It was probably, definitely, too much. Too real.
"Are you okay?" he asks, keeping his hands firmly at his sides when all he wants to do is squeeze Steve's shoulder or arm. "Did your parents—"
"No, no. They left. No worse than usual, really," he says with a shrug, crossing his arms over his chest.
"If that's not..." Jonathan steels himself and takes a chance, reaching out to curl his hand around Steve's elbow. He relaxes when Steve doesn't move or tense up. That's something, at least. "What's wrong?"
"Did you mean it?" Steve looks at him with wide eyes, leaning closer. Jonathan's chest goes tight.
"Mean what?"
"That other night, that. That kiss"—Jonathan tightens his hand on Steve's arm—"it felt. Different." He waits but Jonathan is sure he won't be able to make a sound if he tries. "Was it? Different? Did you mean it?"
Jonathan opens and closes his mouth a few times. His throat is as tight as his chest. He can't lie. Can't tell Steve he's imagining things. They're friends. Steve is probably his best friend. He deserves the truth, even if it messes things up.
"It was," he says, letting go of Steve. He moves to take a step back. Put some distance between them. Before he can, Steve drops his arms from his chest. Time feels like it's slowed down when Steve grips the back of his neck and cups the side of his face. Steve looks at him, eyes tracing his face, and then Steve is kissing him.
Jonathan stills, surprise shooting through him. It's brief, barely a moment before he closes his eyes and returns it. He's seen Steve do this a lot; holding someone's face with both of his hands. Has had half of the experience himself when they were trying to be convincing. It feels different, better, now because it's real. It has to be real. Steve is touching him like he's something precious. Jonathan rests his hands against Steve's back and can't help the way he smiles until eventually they have to ease apart.
"Sorry," he says between the pecks Steve keeps giving him like he can't help himself.
"Don't be." Steve pulls away with a broad smile of his own. Jonathan covers Steve's hands with his, squeezing gently. "So you did mean it."
Jonathan laughs. At the words and Steve's teasing tone of voice and just because he's happy. "I did."
"God, you have no idea how much I wanted it to be real," Steve says with a sigh. He moves one of his hands to cradle the back of Jonathan's head. Goosebumps trail down his neck when Steve scratches his nails through his hair. Steve's eyes close as he rests their foreheads together.
"I might have some of an idea, actually," Jonathan says softly, wrapping his arms around Steve to hold him tighter.
It's Steve's turn to laugh. "Yeah, I guess you do."
He doesn't know how long they stand together like that but finally Jonathan breaks the silence and asks, "Do you want to actually come in now?"
He feels Steve nod and they move enough that he can see Steve clearly again.
"C'mon," he says, keeping his arm around Steve as they move further into the house. Steve kisses the side of his head and Jonathan leans into it and knows it's not for show anymore.