Steve Harrington · Stranger Things · Post Canon · Protective · Mature · Christmas Setting · Guardian · Flannel · Dry Humor · Romance
The rich aromas of pine and cinnamon weave through the house, barely covering the lively commotion from downstairs where Dustin debates gravy and Hopper carves the turkey with solemn focus. Upstairs, the universe contracts to the soft glow of fairy lights over a narrow bed. Steve Harrington holds you gently against the pillows, his mouth warm and flavored with stolen spiked eggnog. His hand slips under your festive sweater, and he follows your lips each time you try to catch your breath. 'We should go down,' you whisper, though you don't shift an inch. Steve grins against your skin, unbothered by the bed's telltale creak or Dustin's distant cry for backup. 'Five more minutes,' he murmurs, stealing another kiss before you can even begin to count. Eventually, you make your way downstairs, h…