Steve Harrington Oneshots

Burning*

"Just this once? I mean, I always take 'em, anyway."

Steve was desperate as he clutched the phone in his hand, his fingers curling tightly around the handle while he tapped his foot. You could hear it in his voice, you were ready to resign with a long sigh as you grabbed your thick black marker and wiped out the huge bold letters reading "FREE DAY" on your calendar.

Nevertheless, this was Steve and you lived to torment him. "Why should I?" you raised a brow. "What's in it for me?"

He shrugged, scowling a little as his brows knitted tightly together. "Er—because we're best friends, and you love me?"

You unsuccessfully fought off the blush on your cheeks and could not fight the palpitations in your chest at his choice of words. Love. Alas, you just sighed dramatically and rolled your eyes, as if he could see you. He could sense your lack of cooperation through your heavy exhale—despite the fact that you've already silently agreed to his plea.

He raised his hand to his face, rubbing at his eyes and pursuing his lips. "I'll pay you."

"Pay me what?"

"Money."

"Great, be there in ten."

The line went dead, and Steve rolled his eyes as he set the phone back on the receiver. He let out a relieved sigh, which was interrupted by a curly-haired boy staring up at him expectantly, arms crossed and brow raised.

"Are we leaving anytime soon?" Dustin asked, tapping his foot and checking his watch as if he was some important celebrity who was late for a big function. Steve rolled his eyes, yet again, and placed his large hand over Dustin's face, lightly shoving the boy to the side as he began walking away.

"Calm your tits, Henderson. Your taxi will be here in ten," he said.

Dustin walked after him, confusion written on his face as they joined the rest of his friends in the living room. "Taxi?" he exclaimed. "I thought you were taking us to the arcade like you promised!"

"Wait, we're not going anymore?" Mike questioned. "But we made a deal. You were going to take us to the arcade if we gave you next weekend off."

Steve huffed, "Look, something came up."

Lucas crossed his arms over his chest, "So you're sticking us with a taxi? What if we get kidnapped?" The others were quick to agree to his ridiculous scenario. If Steve rolled his eyes again, they'd get stuck at the back of his skull.

"Then I'd feel sorry for them," he muttered under his breath. He spoke again quickly before they could show their offense at his insult. "You're still going to the arcade, I'm just not taking you. And you won't be kidnapped, Y/N's takin' you."

They all looked at each other, exchanging glances to decide if they were okay with that. They shrugged and agreed to behave when Steve gave them That Look and a threat for if they acted like "a bunch of little rats" with you. With promises of being well-behaved and quick waves, they watched as your car eventually pulled up to the curb. You honked your horn excessively, annoying the neighbors and riling up the dogs in other houses and yards.

They rushed out of the door with Steve in tow. His hands were on his hips, exuding a level of sass that naturally came with the tight mom jeans. He got to your window and bent down to see you. You were wearing one of his jackets, one that you insisted you "borrowed" even though he hasn't had that jacket back in months. He didn't mind. It looked better on you anyway.

"Thank you for taking them," he said. He silently cursed himself when his eyes drifted down to your thighs. Bare and perfectly displayed by your tiny shorts. His tight pants felt tighter. "Something came up."