steve harrington | imagines

| sick |

this was requested by lokimeat! thank you for the request!
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as you pulled up outside of the harrington house, you noticed the curtains were still drawn, despite it being the afternoon. the driveway was empty which wasn't unusual. you can't remember the last time you saw his parents and steve keeps his car in the garage, he can't risk something happening to it by leaving it outside.

you got out of your car, the cold wind immediately hitting your face. you wrapped your arms around yourself and quickly made your way towards the door to the large house. you knocked three times and waited for a moment. no response. you knocked again. still no response. you tried your luck at the door handle and - to your surprise - it was open.

the house was in darkness. the curtains blacked out any light that threatened to shine through. "hello? steve?" you called out, making your presence known. it looked like nobody was home but steve wouldn't go out and leave the door unlocked. you walked around the downstairs, your footsteps echoing in the empty rooms.

a few noises from upstairs caught your attention. you walked over to the stairs and began walking upstairs. "hello?" you called out again. when you reached the final step, a figure jumped out at you. "jesus christ!" you yelled. when you calmed down, you looked at the figure again, surprised to see your boyfriend holding a lamp, ready to attack. "y/n? what are you doing here? i could've taken you out with this lamp!" he yelled back, his voice croaky. he sat the lamp down and coughed into the crook of his elbow. his eyes were heavy and his hair was flat, a sight you'd never thought you'd see.

steve backed away and crossed his arms, rubbing his hands up down them as if he was trying to heat himself up. "are you okay?" you asked, stepping towards him. he slowly nodded in response. you pressed the back of your hand to his forehead. "jesus, steve, you're really hot." you told him, flipping your hand and pressing the palm of it to his forehead. "thanks." he smirked. you rolled your eyes. "i mean, you're burning up. why don't you just lay down, okay? come on." you said, grabbing his hand and leading him into his bedroom.

"i'm fine, y/n. you don't have to worry." steve said as you practically dragged him behind you. "no, you're not. you're burning up and, i mean this in the nicest way possible, you don't look the best." you stopped beside his bed, gesturing for him to get in. "well, i feel fine. swear." he insisted. his half-lidded eyes and tired smile told you otherwise.

"steve, i'm not stupid. just lay down." you pointed to the bed. "but-" "steve." you interrupted, your voice stern. steve gave up trying to fight you. he got into the bed and sat up, crossing his arms and pouting. he looked like a kid throwing a tantrum. "stop giving me that look. i'm trying to help you." you explained. "stay here. i'll get a wet cloth to try and bring your temperature down, okay?" you said. steve nodded. you moved the floppy hair off his forehead and gently pressed a kiss to it before walking out of the room and down to the kitchen.

once you got a cloth, you folded it in half and then in half once more. you brought it to the sink and turned the tap on, the cold water pouring out. you held the cloth under the water. the sound of footsteps behind you made your head shoot round. steve stood behind you. "i told you to stay in bed." you scolded, turning the tap off. "you can't leave me alone when i'm sick." he mumbled. you quirked up an eyebrow. "thought you weren't sick?" you questioned. "changed my mind." he replied. you shook your head. "c'mere." he said, holding his arms out. you walked to him. steve leaned over to kiss you but you put your hand in front of his face. he furrowed his eyebrows. "i don't think so. you're sick." you told him. steve looked beyond disappointed. "seriously?" he whined. "yeah, seriously. sit on the couch." you demanded. steve sighed and did as you said.