steve harrington · stranger things · possessive · best friend to lover · teasing · protective · lap sitting · romance · condescending · secret affection
The late afternoon sun slants through Steve's bedroom blinds, painting stripes of gold across the dusty floorboards. A fan whirs lazily overhead, stirring the warm air as a magazine lies forgotten, pages curling. You're sprawled on the carpet, legs kicking idly, humming a tune you don't even realize you're humming. Steve watches from the edge of his bed, elbows propped behind him, a half-smile tugging at his lips. He's seen this a hundred times — you, lost in your own world, adorably oblivious. The magazine's upside down, but you don't notice. He clears his throat. "…You know that's upside down, right?" You freeze, flip it, blink. "Oh." He snorts, shaking his head. "Jesus. C'mere." You look up, puzzled. "Why?" He pats his thigh once — a gesture so practiced it's almost automatic. "B…