Pairings: Steven Grant x Reader (No Marc since this would be before the canonical events.)
Prompt: "How many love letters have you written for me, just to keep them to yourself?"
Summary: Steven Grant had made friends with a neighbor of his whom has a major crush on him, so, the reader writes love letters to him and keeps them in a box, away, for safe keeping. Until, one day, while he is over at her flat, he finds the letter and a conversation ensues.
Warnings: None
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Falling in love was a fleeting feeling that many people get to feel in their lives, I unfortunately get to feel it for my only friend, Steven Grant.
He was an awkward mess with bags under his eyes and a knack for Egyptian history, and when we met, He couldn't stop talking about the book I was holding. 'Egyptian History for Nerds', and let's just say, he was excited.
This striked up many instances of him knocking on my door, to even share just one tid-bit of random facts to me which he deemed, 'Positively Ace'. Until, I told him that we could text, which started midnight conversations about Egypt, and sometimes his job and his boss, Donna.
What I didn't expect was for him to start inviting me out to eat with a statue, who looked like a man covered in paint just trying to make a pound or two, but I didn't want to diminish his imagination, so I played along with it, leaving five pounds in his hat every time.
These lunch hangouts turned into hanging in each other's flats and eventually sleepovers, which in his words, he apparently had never experienced. So, of course, I invited him to stay overnight to watch 'The Mummy', and laugh at how ridiculous it was.
This random, insomnia-stricken man was now an important part of my day. Whether we hung out, called, texted each other, or left notes on each other's door, he was starting to become more than a friend in my heart. The feelings were getting out of hand to the point that my heart would beat out of my chest when I'd see his contact pop up on my phone.
How was a woman supposed to manage those feelings? The raw need to hold someone, caress someone, kiss... someone. The poetic thesis of books like Pride and Prejudice had not underestimated the pure and raw need to have someone, he had bewitched me. So, I picked up stray papers, and began to put all my feelings down on paper. Love letters to a man I could not tell my love to, for it would ruin a friendship so wholesome and sweet. Do I value our friendship, or a possible love far sweeter?
For five months, I continually wrote about my feeling of love towards Steven, though it never went away, it had at least helped me keep it under wraps from confessing it to him. Though, many people could probably see my eyes filled with desire as I looked at him. I could portray my desire with longing looks but no words.
Eventually, Steven wanted to come over with some Egyptian movies he had found on DVD, saying that he missed the homely-ness of my flat, which if I hadn't been restricting my feelings, that sentence alone would have tugged hard at my heartstrings. But, I put all of my letters that were in envelopes addressed to him into a stray shoebox and shoved it under my couch, out of sight from him and I answered the door, letting him in, his face graced with a wide smile and he held a hefty stack of DVDs.
"Found some good ones, not all as funny as 'The Mummy', but they should do for a sleepover, right Love?"
I nod as he whisks past me, dropping the DVDs onto my coffee table with a grin.
"Say... you still got any of those biscuits I bought you still? The ones shaped like scarabs?"
With a laugh, I nod once again, "You want them?"
"With some tea please?"
"Sure, sure... whatever-..."
Making my way to my frankly small kitchen, I opened a cabinet with my tea, grabbing Steven's favorite and setting it aside while I got my kettle to fill with water. I turned my stove top on and set the kettle on top, grabbing his hieroglyph mug and setting the tea bag gently inside.
"How's the museum been with Donna? Is she still bugging you about you coming in late? I swear, one day I'll have to come in and defend you. Bosses have to be lenient with their worker and hours because they may just work them to death..-"
THWAT
The package of biscuits dropped to the hardwood flooring, my eyes blown wide at the sight before me. Steven was sitting with MY shoebox in his lap, a torn envelope next to him and an unfolded paper in his hands.
"I...I...I can explain, Steven,..I..-"
"His gaze is enough to ease a horrible day, a warmth that I have come to appreciate. Yet, I so ardently wish to experience the warmth for eternity, whether he chooses to love me as more than a friend, or not. He will always have my love and my heart, and my very soul..."
"Steven..."
"I've loved him for these past five months; his presence is as sweet as honey in tea. Addictive and yet I know that I cannot lose his friendship. The sweetness of this friendship is worth every moment of not being able to kiss him. Not being able to ease his discomfort in his insomnia. Not being able to be his sweetness. I just want him to see the desire in my eyes."
"..."
He set the letter back in the box almost as gently as possible, as I kept my gaze toward the ground, too scared to look him in the eyes.
"Love...?"
He set his pace toward me as slow, trying to ease me from the anxiety and pure horrific knowledge that he now knows. He knows my love, my desire, my secret.
"How many love letters have you written for me, just to keep them to yourself?"
His hand caressed up my bare arm, touching each section of skin with delicate attention, my hairs standing on end at the soft touch.
"I've... written many.. It's hard to keep track."
His hand curved up my jaw-line, pulling my head upwards until our eyes met.
Desire.
His fingers threaded through my hair and finally, finally, our lips met.
A crescendo of feeling erupted up my throat, seemingly ignoring the inexperience of his kiss as he pulled me closer, warmth, sweetness, and desire.
We pulled back with a gasp of air, a giggle resting on my tongue as I couldn't help but let out a laugh and a grin.
His nose bumped mine as he leaned our heads together, a wide smile on his face also.
"I don't know about you... but I think you should check on the boiling water..-"
"OH CRAP!"
He laughed, a full hearty and meaningful laugh as he watched me stumble to get the water away from the stovetop.
"While you do that, I'm going to continue reading these poetic letters..-"
"NO-NO-"
And, even after months and months of knowing each other, those letters would be the foundation of our whole relationship.
