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Steve Harrington hummed to himself as he walked out of the flower shop—a bouquet of red roses and sunflowers clutched in his hand as he headed back to his beamer.
You had called about an hour ago to reschedule your date—mumbling something about food poisoning and apologising purposefully for cancelling at the last minute. Steve waved away your apologies, his concern for you outweighing the dinner reservation he had made and the new shirt he had bought for the occasion.
You may have only been together for two months but Steve was falling hard and he was falling fast. It should have scared him—after Nancy Wheeler had broken his heart—but when he looked at you, he didn't see hesitation in your eyes like he had seen with Nancy. He didn't spend his evenings wondering if he had done something wrong. No, instead when he looked at you he felt seen. Wanted. Everything he had ever needed and more.
And so, he didn't think twice about grabbing you a bouquet of flowers, some saltine crackers and heading straight to your house—your favourite hoodie of his on his passenger seat as he drove. All he wanted to do was look after you—look after his girl.
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The hot water bottle pressed to your lower stomach seemed to offer no reprieve from the cramps you were experiencing. The pain wasn't unbearable but it was enough that you hadn't wanted to leave the house—which was why you had cancelled your date with Steve. You had told him it was food poisoning. You felt bad for the little white lie but your relationship was still new and you felt a little awkward telling him about your period pains.
But Steve hadn't questioned it. And so, you were curled up on your couch watching Family Ties while you prayed that the pain in your lower abdomen would lessen. But of course, it didn't.
You had just managed to find the strength to go into your kitchen to find your emergency stash of chocolate covered pretzels when the doorbell rang.
You groan inwardly—you had a feeling that it was your chatty neighbour. Mrs .Palmer liked to visit you at least once a day when your parents were away. It was sweet, really, but god could she talk. Yesterday, you had spent nearly forty minutes talking about hydrangeas with her.
You adjust your hot water bottle against your lower stomach as you walk slowly towards the front door.
And when you open it and see Steve standing on your front porch—a gorgeous bouquet of sunflowers and red roses in one hand, a large box of saltine crackers in the other and that dark green hoodie of his tucked under his arm—you can't hide the surprise on your face. Eyes wide—lips parted. Hot water bottle still pressed against your cramping stomach.
"Hey, pretty girl," he says with a smile that makes your face warm. Steve had that effect on you. He was always making you feel flustered—loved to watch you squirm when he complimented you for no reason. "Couldn't let you suffer alone—hope that's okay."
You blink—guilt at lying to Steve building in your gut as your eyes flicker over his face and then back at the flowers in his hand. They looked expensive. It made you feel even worse.
"Y-yeah, it-it's fine," you stutter out quietly, averting eye contact as you glance down at the bag of milk chocolate pretzels in your hand.
Steve's eyes follow yours and he smiles, shaking his head. "I don't think pretzels will make you feel better, baby," he tells you as you step aside wordlessly to let him in. "C'mon, you need crackers and some water."
You swallow—watching as Steve walks confidently into your kitchen. You watch as he finds a vase for the bouquet he had brought you—taking care to rearrange them as you stand silently in the doorway. Steve hums to himself—that same Kate Bush song he always seemed to be humming—so at ease with taking care of you that it almost made you feel dizzy with affection for him.
Steve turns to look at you, his eyes softening when he sees the miserable look on your face.
"Oh baby, you don't look so good," he says gently, setting the vase down on your window sill, the hoodie on your kitchen table and stepping closer to you. "I-I mean—you look beautiful. You always do but—" His eyes then drop down to the hot water bottle you had pressed against your lower and he goes quiet.
Your face feels hot and you quickly try to adjust the bottle against your stomach to try and hide it from view. But you knew it was too late—Steve's eyes flicker back to yours in understanding.
"Oh, (y/n)," he says gently, hands cupping your face and ducking down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. "You don't really have food poisoning do you?"
You bite the inside of your cheek and shake your head.
"That's okay," he tells you, pressing another kiss to your forehead and pulling away just enough to look at you. "You should have said, I would have understood."
"I just—I felt a little awkward," you murmur back quietly. "We haven't been together long and I didn't want to gross you out or—"
"No," Steve interrupts—not harshly, just firmly. "No—absolutely not. Periods are natural, (y/n). Not gross. Not at all. I'm not a stupid teenage boy anymore. I'm your boyfriend. You can tell me about this stuff—I want to know when you're not feeling one hundred per cent."
You nod, one hand still clutching the pretzel bag while the other finds the sleeve of his sweater and tugging at it gently.
Steve gets the hint. He smiles as he wraps his arms around you—pulling you against his chest. You practically melt into him, seeking his warmth and that fluttery feeling that lived in your stomach when you were around him.
You don't see it, but Steve smiles as you hug him back. You have always been very shy. Too shy some would say. Steve never thought so—he liked that you quietly observed the world. He liked that you were thoughtful and always thought about what you were about to say. He liked that you would bury your face into his shoulder after he complimented you. Steve just—he really fucking liked you.
You stay like that for a few moments. Steve could have remained there for the entire evening. But he knew you were likely in pain and he couldn't stand the thought of that for even a second.
"Now," he says, pressing another kiss to the top of your head before pulling away to look at you. "What do you need, baby? You need me to order you some pizza? Go out and get more pretzels for you? Maybe some axe throwing?"
You shake your head, biting back a laugh and feeling incredibly touched by his offers—god, he was good. He was so good and had you not been on your period, you probably would have wanted to take him upstairs and spend the night tangled together in your sheets. But that's not what you needed right now.
"Just you is fine," you tell him finally.
Steve smiles, something in his chest tightening as he looks back at you.
"Yeah?" he murmurs, fingers gently brushing your hair behind your ear. "Want me to take care of you?"
"Please."
Steve can't help himself, he leans in to press the sweetest of kisses against your lips. It was soft. Gentle. No rush—just his way of trying to say everything he wasn't ready to say yet."C'mon, I'll look after you," he murmurs, thumb brushing over your chin before he taps your nose gently. "You're in for a long night of cuddling, pretty girl."