Surrender // Steve Harrington x Reader

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘-𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑

NEW YEARS EVE. 1985.

"Steve honey, did you get the champagne?" His mom calls as you help Steve bring the grocery bags inside. She was home, his dad wasn't. She was throwing some huge party for family and friends to celebrate the change of year as she apparently did every year.

In a way, you were glad his dad didn't come home for it. You liked his mom more. 

"Yes, obviously, mom." He grumbles in response, a pointed look sent your way as he rolls his eyes at her. You giggle quietly and swat his arm, telling him, "She just wants to be sure. Be nice."

He sets the bags down on the counter and you do the same, smiling as his lips press to your cheek. "What, you're on her side now?" He teases, fingertips brushing over your lower back as he squeezes past you to unpack the bags, the delicate touch sending a shiver down your spine. 

"Yes, because I'm her future mom." She says as she enters the kitchen, apparently catching the tail-end of your hushed conversation. Future mom. The suggestion has you blushing, and you could see Steve was the same, side-eyeing you with an apologetic smile. Still. You think you could warm to the idea.

"I'm glad you're back, Mrs. Harrington. Did you have a good Christmas?"

"Please, honey, call me Marie." She insists, coming to stand at your side and help you unpack the bags while Steve offloads the items into their correct place in the kitchen. "And it was... You know, fine. Did you guys spend it together?"

"Yes. It was great." An understatement. If you had to pick a best moment of your life, it would have been Christmas. Sad, but true. Steve casts a smile at you over his shoulder before carrying on, feeling exactly the same as you about that day.

The rest of the morning and most of the afternoon was spent helping Marie to set up for the party. Silver decorations hung all over the place, big helium balloons in the shape of "1986" placed outside by the pool. Caterers came in to begin cooking the intricate list that had been assigned to them, and a bar was set up outside as well to ply people with expensive drinks all night. 

It was a lot and you were quite nervous about the amount of people coming to the house that night. But you'd been invited and it was another holiday to celebrate for the first time so, in a strange way, you were also excited for it.

Late afternoon saw each of you disappearing to wash and change and primp in preparation for the evenings events, Steve's mom ironically offering you the guest room you'd been living in to get changed in and crash in for the night. 

You planned to wear the same dress you wore on Thanksgiving since you didn't really have anything else appropriate. But it was cute all the same and would suffice. So you slip into it after fixing your hair so it looked pretty and putting on a little bit of makeup. As you look at yourself in the mirror, your fingertips adjust your S necklace and you smile at it, a giddiness to your stomach that always came when you thought of Steve.

God, you were so whipped it was disgusting and yet you were loving every second of it. 

People had started arriving; you could tell as much from the music increasing in volume and humming through the floorboards. As you step out of your room, Steve is doing the same from his own and he wolf-whistles his appreciation as he checks out your outfit. "Beautiful as always," He compliments, coming closer so he could get a better look. 

He looks insatiably attractive himself. Wearing pale beige slacks and smart shoes, an emerald green sweater rolled up to his elbows and you could see the collar of a plain white undershirt peeking out from above the neckline. Smart casual, he'd called it. Cute.