𝐙𝐄𝐑𝐎 ✮ steve harrington⁴

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐎 : black tie

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 : 6.1k

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𝐓𝐖𝐎 𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐊𝐒 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐀 𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐋𝐘 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐓 𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 when one was dreading its conclusion. But through some glitch in the space-time continuum, the day of the Harrington Gala had arrived. Owen had spent the night before in a daze, stuffing anything she could think to include into the depths of her duffle bag. The only items of hers that got excluded from the beat-up old sack — special treatment in Owen's world — were her dress and her shoes for the actual event.

To the naked eye, neither of the pieces were anything exceptional. A strapless black dress and a previously owned pair of black heels whose glossy shine had been dimmed over the years. She had gotten an excellent deal on the dress, almost certainly due to the fact that its cheap material was already starting to fall apart. But thankfully, the dark fabric hid all the fraying seams and the janky zipper. Owen really only needed the garment to get through one night and then she could be rid of it.

Steve had parked in front of the Webb residence the following morning, his car's tank full of gas and the trunk missing half of its expected luggage. Upon his arrival, he had insisted on carrying all of her stuff out by himself and in one trip, of course. As sluggish as she was that morning, Owen didn't protest against the ambitious mission he had created for himself. Instead, she sat atop her unmade bed with a hot cup of coffee and watched him try to juggle it all into the least precarious position he could find. She only got up when Steve finally felt secure enough to move and found himself in need of a guide out to the car, unwilling to trip along the way and lose all of his hard-earned balancing efforts.

"Hey, did I mention that I like your hair?" Steve had asked when she stepped into view again. His voice was slightly muffled and even a little slurred with the bag that he had tucked beneath his chin.

Owen's lips quirked upwards as she met his eyes over the tattered edge of the duffle. "Not today," she muttered, teasingly. His scoff and eye roll in response just made her smile grow even wider.

"Well, I really like it," he said, decisively. All of Steve's focus was temporarily dedicated to getting down the front steps of the house in one piece before he took another moment to admire her in the morning light. "I feel like it makes you look like how you did when we first met. Without the pink, obviously, but... I don't know. It's nice."

Strangely, even without all of the words there, Owen knew exactly what he meant. The new, dark hair just felt like a fresh start. When she looked in the mirror, she could almost trick herself into believing that she was still just the girl she was when she lived in Detroit. There were no monsters, no superpowers, no evil government agents, no tragic history to be dealt with. She had an artificially clean slate for once.

"Thanks. I... like it, too."

The drive to Chicago was unsurprisingly pleasant. So pleasant, in fact, that Owen nearly forgot why they were even on their little roadtrip in the first place. They spent a good portion of the trip listening to and critiquing a couple new album releases that had made their way to the music store.

Their consensus? The new Janet Jackson album, great. But the Screaming Trees album really needed a second listen before they could really solidify their opinions. Alas, they only had a couple hours in the car, which left them with no time to re-listen right away.

They had a fancy-shmancy hotel room to check into, after all.

Owen was thrumming with excitement and nerves as she stood beside Steve at the front desk. She couldn't believe they were really in Chicago, together, and mostly alone — like real adults. The moment felt surreal now that she was really living in it.