steve harrington imagines

don't be a smartass

prompt: #60, "don't be a smartass."

—

Slamming the car door closed, you collapsed into the cloth seats of the dark red station wagon angrily, your arms crossed. If it weren't for the hat sitting atop your head, steam would be blowing out of your ears. You were furious this morning.

"Good morning," you looked over to the driver's seat where the driver, Steve Harrington, sat with a grin on his face. The grin slowly slipped from his lips as he realized your anger fuming from you. "Bad morning?"

Scoffing, your turned back to face the front and propped your feet up on the dashboard. Taking the silent treatment, Steve nodded and headed off toward the school, where you spent the rest of the day not socializing at all. Steve bounded up to you at your locker after the last bell rang, a smile on his lips. He was too happy — maybe he was always this happy — and it made you mad.

"What the fuck do you want, Harrington?"

"Whoa, chill, Y/N," he chuckled, raising his hands above his head. Everybody that talked to you today ran in the other direction after you had bitten their head off, but Steve stayed. He was your ride to and from school, but he didn't seem fazed by your bitchiness this day. "Just waiting for you. Is that a problem?"

Shrugging, you slid your books out of your locker and shut it, looking back at him while repositioning your bag on your shoulder. "Nope."

You got into the car, and Steve headed toward your house. At the intersection to turn onto your street, Steve went straight, causing you to look at him. "Excuse me. You missed the turn off, dipshit."

"I'm aware."

"Then why—"

Steve pulled into the parking lot of a church, and put the car in park. He turned to you and looked you in the eyes, placing a hand on your knee. "Y/N, you have been bitchy all day, and I have put up with it all day, so I think it's fair that I know what is wrong with you. Is that okay, Y/N?"

Sighing, you nodded.

"Well?"

"I woke up and I forgot to bring the garbage bins in last night so my mom yelled at me," you answered. Steve looked at you, a blank expression on his face.

"Are you serious?" you nodded. "Y/N, what the fuck."

"What?"

"You've been a bitch all day because your mom got mad at you for not bringing the garbage bins in?" he gasped and you shrugged. "You are the weirdest person I know. What the fuck is wrong with you?"

A laugh escaped your lips, causing Steve to laugh too. "I hate you sometimes," he squeezed your knee, grabbing your hand with his free one and interlocking your fingers. "Want to get ice cream? That might cheer you up. Then when I drop you off at home, I'll help you bring in the garbage bins. How does that sound?"

"I hate you sometimes too."

"Hey, don't be a smartass," he said and I pressed my lips to his softly.