Work Text:
i.
You have a car. You know how to drive said car. You do not know how to jumpstart your car without another willing participant and their own car, though.
You're on a street with few houses, taking a shortcut through the rich part of the neighborhood because it's nice to fantasize about wealth from a distance sometimes. The closest house to you is giant and as you walk up the driveway you can spot a pool in the backyard. Hopefully, these folks will take it upon themselves to help an unfortunate soul and check off their ‘I interacted with a poor today’ card.
What you didn't expect was ‘The Hair’ answering the door exasperatedly, “Hey, we don't need anything-”
Your face is squinched, “Hello, I was just wondering if you'd be able to help me jump my car?”
Steve Harrington, the popular pretty boy of Hawkins High, leans a forearm on the doorway and wipes his brow with his hand. You can't tell if he recognizes you from the plethora of classes you've attended together since grade school, but you don't really care either way. You weren't friends, just classmates until you graduate and never see the other again.
“Yeah, no problem. Just give me a second.”
The door is closing and you're staring at wood. Well.
You walk back to your car as he pulls his from the garage and meanders over to yours. The difference between his newer model and your rust bucket almost makes you laugh, but the kicker is when Steve whistles, “Surprised you haven't gotten anything newer yet.”
“With what money?” You say as you lift the hood and start to connect your cables.
Steve pauses, “I don't know, thought you had a job or something,” he mumbles as he hooks up his car and gets in his seat.
You wonder if he actually knew that information or if it was an educated guess- while you're both revving and waiting for your car to juice up… you realize Steve Harrington is a lot nicer than you originally gave him credit for. He could have shut the door in your face- well he did, but he agreed to help anyway. Prejudice decided for you that Steve wasn't worth getting to know based on who he hangs with, how he grew up, but you've never really tried to get to know him either. Shoved him in a dumb jock box and went your merry way.
When the job is done you collect your cables and Steve closes his hood, “You good now?”
“Yeah, I'll make it home at least. Thank you.” Making eye contact with him feels illegal because he was always this out of reach legend, but when his eyelashes flutter you're struck with the desire to ask for his phone number. For help with car troubles. Yeah. Not to get another chance to catch his gaze and look at the moles on his neck.
“Anytime.” It sounds like he really means it for some reason.
By the time he's back in his car and about to leave you yell out, “If you need anything, let me know! I owe you one.”
He smiles and raises the hand that was resting on the passenger headrest and drives back to his house.
You best get back to yours too, then.
ii.
They're high as shit. Giggling and eating popcorn that you're not entirely sure is fresh. A kid you recognize briefly as the little one with the curly hair Steve is attached to (not that you're noticing things about Steve) harshly seats him and his coworker down whilst berating them like a father would. Your brows furrow, shouldn't that be reversed?
Why two middle schoolers are babysitting two young adults is beyond you, but the spectacle they're making is much more intriguing than this movie you hauled yourself to. You could spot that head of hair anywhere, though. As you sit a couple rows up and to the side, you've got a perfect diagonal viewpoint to watch Steve and… you don't know her name, but you swear you've seen her at school before. Although the seats are stationary the two seem to sway back and forth while loudly whispering their confusion followed by a cacophony of shushes.
At one point Steve lifts his pointer finger to the screen and he starts to trace it backwards towards the light source like he's on the precipice of a life-changing scientific discovery. It isn't until he's almost fully turned around in his seat and laughs an “Ah-ha!” to himself while looking at the projector that he spots you, innocently munching on some Red Vines.
Your eyebrows raise as he cocks his head back and forth like a confused dog, immaculate hair bouncing with every flop, as he tries to figure out who you are. It's not surprising that he can't immediately place you- he was ‘King Steve’ and a ruler cannot possibly remember all of his subjects. He only helped you out with your car once before as a nicety. And you've made a habit to steer clear of his street since, feeling oddly shy and a little bit awkward.
In response to his staring, you twirl your licorice as a silent greeting and he looks enthralled- by your candy or whatever high vision his clearly drugged mind is imagining is up in the air. He even raises a hand to copy your twirling motion and now you're the one giggling. You briefly wonder if you should check on them after the movie, maybe even ask him for his phone number to make sure he and his coworker are okay, but squash that notion down when the girl lurches forward like she's going to hurl and snatches Steve's shirt so hard he almost falls from the seat. They scamper down the hall towards a trashcan or toilet or whatever and you're left feeling silly that you wanted his number again in the first place.
iii.
Her name is Robin, which you learn because you love movies and she is always willing to chat with you about whatever you happen to rent that day. Presently, you're with your friends and deciding on a fun movie to watch together tonight and she is on break. You don't notice she's gone until you reach the counter and slap the DVD case down and pilfer through your bag for cash, “You know I can't say no to Tim Curry.”
“Uh, who would?”
Hand still fishing, your head whips up so hard you feel a twinge and you can't help but glance first at his hair to identify him. His face is recognizable alone of course, big eyes, sharp nose- but no one could defy physics like the lustrous locks he sports.
Steve looks as surprised as you feel, mouth slightly drawn down and eyes shifting to your friends who also look at you weirdly.
“I forgot you worked here.” It wasn't mean, but it didn't sound kind either, “I mean, where's Robin?”
He picks up the rental and starts to ring up your purchase, “Well, she's on break, but don't worry, I'm able to use the register. Trained and everything.”
Your friends chuckle behind you and bid you farewell to wait in the car. After giving them the keys you turn and see Steve is staring at you. Clearing your throat, “I'm sorry, I'm just used to her is all. We chat about movies- not that we… can't.”
He lifts the case and says, “I have not seen this, but I can tell Robin what you rented. If you want.”
“Clue?” You're almost offended, “You haven't watched Clue?”
“Can you ‘Clue’ me into why you like it?”
He looks halfway between proud and mad at himself for the pun, but you're snatching the DVD from his hand and smacking him lightly on the chest with it against your better judgement, “I think you need to get a ‘Clue’ first.”
Was this flirting? That feels like a question both of you are wondering as the air between you both feels different all of a sudden.
Raising a hand to his chest playfully, Steve is about to retort when Robin emerges from the breakroom and zooms over to you two.
“Hi! I'm glad I caught you before you left- oh! Tim Curry, nice.”
You gesture at Robin's words while she looks between you and Steve, eyes narrowing before getting wider. The knowing grin on her lips is making your embarrassment signals fly off the handles, so you wrap up as quickly as you can.
“Thanks, ha. My friends are waiting so I'll see you next time!”
Caught between battling Robin mentally and your departure, Steve raises a hand and calls out, “I'd like a review, too!”
With your hand on the door you turn and almost blurt out the question that's been egging you on for a while, something about phones and numbers and calling maybe just to hear his voice- but your friends honk the horn and you're torn away, sparing a “If I see you!” in your wake.
iv.
The closest you've gotten yet to asking Steve Harrington for his number was actually after the time he helped you with your car. Still in high school, you started to perceive him a lot more than you ever did. Between classes you couldn't help but spot how he talked by the lockers, how athletic he could be playing sports, how fond he could become towards the middle schoolers he drove home sometimes. Especially, though, how in class he just couldn't seem to pay attention for the life of him.
Between throwing notes, being bored, and ignoring the teacher, you were surprised Steve wasn't doing worse than he was. You spied his tests usually when they were passed around due to him being behind you, which is how you knew he was close to failing the class.
He was nice to you, once. Helped you with your car without expecting anything in return and you found you wanted him to expect something. Tir for tat- you don't like being indebted to someone. With this, you felt as though you'd be able to extend your offer of tutoring to help where you can, and then you'd be able to stop observing him whenever he walked down a hallway. Just because you wanted to pay him back, no other reason.
One day when getting back a midterm, you saw Steve's less than stellar score and passed the stack back before he could call you out for creeping on his grade. You bit your pencil and quickly made a pros and cons list of what you were about to do and then scribbled your number on a scrap notebook page, offering tutoring assistance if he so chose, in return for helping you. As you tore the corner off and turned around, intent to give it to him as your arm reached out, the bell rang and a girl sidled up from behind you to lean across his desk.
“Steve,” she purred, “how'd you do on the exam? Do you need more private tutoring lessons..?”
Steve briefly glanced at you, who was already facing forward, unsure of what your intentions were. Awkward couldn't begin to cover the feelings rising up within you, making your cheeks feel hot. That's stupid, you feel stupid. A guy would definitely want a sexier girl to teach him- hell, they aren't learning anything, you know that. You felt foolish for even thinking it was a good trade.
You couldn't help but refuse to look at Steve as he thanked her, self-consciousness ordering your eyes to stay fixated on packing your bag as you stood. Walking fast, you threw the now crumpled note away with more force than necessary, positive you'd pay him back someday, somehow, unaware of the gaze that watched you go.
v.
“No way.”
You know you're not the only one looking to flee town after the catastrophe that rippled through Hawkins, but you were not expecting Steve Harrington to be stranded on the side of the road as you skedaddled. You noticed that mop of hair a mile away. A nice mop. A really nice mop.
Wanting to make good time, but also wanting to have a good time with a hot rod and his car, you slowly pull up next to him, offering a whistle, “Stranded, Harrington?
As frustrated as he may be with his predicament, Steve looks less frazzled to see a friendly face, “I don't know, you, uh..” he stands akimbo, perching his sunglasses up off his face, “..still got those jumper cables?”
“You remember?” You laugh lightly as both start getting your cars ready, growing giddier each time you feel Steve look at you and then quickly avert his eyes when you peer back. Feels even better when you bend over the hood to reach for the wire and he coughs from behind you. When you look up, he's staring at the sky, using his hand to block the sun while his sunglasses rest uselessly on his forehead.
Looking conflicted, Steve runs a hand through his silky hair, “Of course. I don't usually forget a pretty girl knocking on my door asking for help.”
“Huh.” You don't know what to say. What do you say? He just blatantly flirted with you. Laid it on thin, threw a line out, is making it known that he finds you attractive and and and.
He hasn't said anything, just looks almost upset at himself for making you uncomfortable in his mind. He is about to rescind it as a joke based on his huff of air and tight-lipped grin when you walk over and grab his arm. His mouth opens slightly and even in the sun they aren't cracked, just plush and pretty.
Squeezing the fit arm you're latched onto, looking sure, feeling assertive, you say, “I've wanted to ask for a long time, but it never felt right. I find you handsome and kind. Generous and trustworthy. I like you.”
His eyes are wide and his grin starts to join them, looking down at your own blinking up at him almost desperately. You finally ask, “May I have your phone number, Steve?”
A soft laugh. Then Steve opens his mouth and the rest is history.