Secrets // Steve Harrington

Chapter Thirty-Six - Harrington

Author's Note: Just a quick little note before you begin. I know that I am moving quite slowly through Season 2's storyline and that a lot of the recent chapters have been longer than they needed to, but I just wanted to tell you that it's intentional. I wanted to really build on Steve and Thalia's relationship pre-season 2 (for reasons I will not disclose). I also really wanted to develop a lot of the relationships she has with other characters like Hopper. I hope the slow movement isn't annoying but I assure you, things will be getting hectic quite soon. There's another two or so chapters before the real fun begins. Anyway, sorry for the interruption. Enjoy.

Word Count: 3,580 words.

Warnings: Slight emetophobia (only mentions)

It was a struggle to get the drunk asshole into the passenger seat of the car and that was putting it lightly. I was rarely the sober one in these kinds of situations.

My watch now reading past 1am, I made sure to drive slowly on the roads, not only because it was pitch black but also because I wasn't sure what I would do if Steve vomited all over his own car.

"Music," he muttered, head titled back against the leather seats.

In the year that we had been 'not enemies', I had seen Steve Harrington drunk on countless occasions, but this was different.

"Where are the tapes and I'll put something on?" I asked softly.

He gestured towards the glove box in front of him. "In there."

Slowing down even more – completely sure that there would be very few people on the road – I reached across to open the compartment, searching through the cassette tapes inside.

I froze for a moment, stopping the car completely to pull out an album I knew all too well. "Synchronicity," I muttered, looking at the drunk boy.

His eyes widened, looking at me like a deer caught in headlights. "It's not what you think."

"All I'm thinking is that you've become a Police fan overnight," I commented, then noticing that he had all of their albums.

"I haven't listened to them," he told me. "That would ruin their value."

"Why? Did you plan to bring them back?" I posed playfully, opening the one I held and putting it into the cassette playing above the car's radio.

"I was going to give them to you," he admitted, the alcohol in his system a sure help.

When I turned to look at him, his eyes were already on me. "What?"

"For your birthday. I – I wasn't sure which ones you had so I just," – he threw his hands up into the air – "got them all."

Steve adverted his gaze from mine but I didn't move my eyes, now looking at the side of his face as the beginning of the album played through the car. He had gotten them as a present for me. I was certain that he didn't know when my birthday was, I had never told him, but that didn't mean he couldn't have found out. November 22nd.

I wasn't sure why my heart fluttered at his actions, or the actions he intended to perform. I turned back to the road, turning down the radio enough that I could hear the chords of the album. Then, I began to drive again.

"No one's ever gotten me a birthday present worth that much before," I told him.

I could see Harrington look at me out of the corner of my eyes. It was clear from the flinch he let out every now and again that the alcohol was starting to wear off.

"I mean, Eddie get's me one every year, my parents used to, but it would be a chocolate bar or a trip to the cinema for one. We couldn't afford much else. Nancy's never gotten me a present, Jonathon either, I have been very strict on that. I don't want them to waste their money on me," I explained.