Surrender // Steve Harrington x Reader

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍

Dewy droplets of rain settle over the window of the passenger side and you watch as the occasional one overfills and drips down the glass, your mind making a little game out of which could get their faster in your attempts to stop it from drifting to less favorable topics.

The creak of the drivers side opening is the first thing to snap your attentions away from it, though your eyes were still trained on two particular droplets, waiting that extra fraction of a second to see if the one you'd been rooting for wins. It does. 

"Hey, sorry that took a while. Robin clocked off early so had to close on my own." Steve sighs as he slips into the seat beside yours, huffing out a long breath of exhaustion and satisfaction at finally sitting down. "Robin is the girl behind the counter?" You ask, figuring as much but seeking out some extra confirmation, which you get by way of a nod and breathy "Yeah."

He holds a large hand out to you, palm up, asking you for the keys which were warm from how tightly you'd been clutching them in your hands all this time. 

Small indents from them remain pressed into the pads of your fingers as you drop the keys into his hand and he turns them over, his index finger swirling them around before he puts the correct one into the ignition.

You take a slow breath, not looking forward to what was about to happen. It was only your second time in a car, but since you were apparently extra brave today, you try not to let your trepidation show. In retrospect, it was one of the least scary things you did today. You could handle it.

Bright lights shine in through the windscreen, illuminating Steve with warm red and yellow hues when you risk a glance his way. 

He angles himself ever so slightly to face you, just his torso, left eye twitching ever so slightly in his hesitance to ask the question that was on his mind. His lips drop open once and close, and then he does it again, prompting you to speak for him.

How unusual it was as well, that there was a time you couldn't shut him up, and now you were having to drag words from him.

"What?"

Your stern look was harsher than you'd intended, though it wasn't as if you could see it yourself to fix it. It makes him clear his throat and shake his head as he turns back to face the front, about to kick the car into life before he sighs quietly and turns to you once more, "Are you sure you're okay to ride home? We can walk, if you'd prefer?"

"It's a long walk." 

"Yeah, and a gross one in this rain, but..." He shrugs a shoulder, attempting to remain at ease. "I know you don't like cars."

There was that insufferable scratching again, like your beating organ was full of deranged spiders scraping their hooked toes at the walls of it. The worst part was that you could honestly say with some confidence that you didn't entirely hate it.

"And you'd have to come all the way back for your car..." You trail off, your protests dying on the edge of your tongue as he shrugs once more, pulling a face that told you he couldn't give a damn about himself so long as you were comfortable. "It's fine. Really. Got to get used to it at some time, right?" 

The frog in your throat refuses to budge as you swallow, brain willing you to look away from the depths of his eyes though your own eyes refused to, enraptured entirely by the look he was giving you. "I'm not as delicate as you seem to think I am, Steve. I can handle a car ride."

"I don't think you're delicate--" He begins to say, though his actions toward you had always served to contrast those words too well. You hold up a hand to cut him off, a hint of a smile on your lips that works far better to shut him up than the hand had. "It's okay. I am, I guess, but not in the way you might think... You treat me like I'm as delicate as a flower, but the sad reality is that I'm probably as delicate as a bomb."