Love Is A Battlefield (A Stranger Things/Steve Harrington Fanfiction)

Chapter Forty-Five: I Love You

We sat on Steve's couch, our empty dinner plates discarded on the coffee table.

I was lying down with my head in his lap, and he was running his fingers through my hair with one hand while his other one was slung lazily over my stomach, his fingers tracing shapes on my side. I was doing the same to his arm, writing my name over and over again with my finger. We hadn't said anything in a while, and that was ok. We didn't have to, we were just comfortable being together.

"Did you actually mean it?" He asked suddenly, his eyes concentrated on my hair. I looked up at him and he still didn't meet my eyes.

"Mean what?" I asked. I stared up at him until he sighed, finally bringing his eyes over to meet mine.

"Earlier...when you said that you loved me. Did you mean that or did you just say it in the heat of the moment." I furrowed my eyebrows, sitting up and turning so that I was facing him, my legs crossed.

"Where is this coming from?" He shook his head, leaning back against the couch and looking away from me.

"Nothing. Forget it."

"Steve..." He just shook his head again, refusing to look at me. "Steve, look at me."

When he didn't I moved over to him, straddling his lap and sitting down so that I was facing him. He had no choice but to meet my eyes at that point.

"That's one way to do it." He said, trying to joke in order to make himself feel more comfortable. I shot him a pointed look.  He sighed. "Last time someone told me that they loved me...they didn't mean it."

"Haven't your parents ever told you that?" I asked. 

"My parents don't even say that to each other, let alone me." He said. "The only time I've ever heard that was from Nancy, and then it turned out that that was all a lie...and then you tell me that and its hard not to wonder if-"

"Steve?" I whispered.

"Yeah?" 

"Tell me, in the time that you've gotten to know me, have I ever ever lied to you?" He swallowed.

"No." I nodded.

"And when it came to you, and what I think about you, has there ever been a time, save when I liked you while you were dating Nancy, that I didn't tell you what I thought?" He shook his head.

"No."

"Which leaves us to conclude?" I smiled, tilting my head to the side. He smiled. "Yeah, Steve, I meant it. And I apologized when I said it, but I'm actually not sorry that I said it. I know you're not ready to say it back, but...I just needed you to know that I love you." He smiled and then next thing I know his lips are on mine and I am no longer on top of him. He picked me up and turned, laying me down on the couch and laying on top of me, pressing his lips urgently against mine. My eyes widened, but soon closed as I wrapped one arm around his shoulders and tangled my opposite hand into the hair on the back of his head. He pulled back, looking down at me.

"Whoa, watch the hair." I shot him a look.

"That's what you're thinking about right now?"

"Yeah, sorry." He kissed me again, his hand trailing down my arm to my waist. I was so concentrated on the feeling of his mouth moving against mine that I didn't even notice my shirt had ridden up until Steve's fingers were brushing against the skin of my waist, slowly trailing upwards. My eyes widened and I pushed him off, standing up and pressing a hand to my mouth, my breath coming out ragged. "What? What's wrong?"

"Um...sorry, I'm sorry." I put my hands over my face.

"Barbie, what is wrong?" He repeated. I sighed, looking up at him.

"You know that conversation we just had about you not being ready to say I love you?" I asked. He nodded. "Well um...as it turns out, you're not the only one who...isn't ready for certain things, as I discovered...just now." He nodded.

"That's ok."

"Really?" I asked. "Because um...I know that you...you have a lot of experience in that department, and I don't want you to feel like you're...missing out or...something."

"What, you think that's all I think about?" He asked. I shook my head.

"No, of course not, its just...I don't know! I don't know how all of this works!" He laughed at my clear discomfort, standing up and grabbing my face, forcing me to look at him.

"Let's make a deal, ok?" He said. "You be patient with me, I'll be patient with you, and things will happen when we're both ready. Sound like a plan?" I nodded.

"Yeah...Yeah, I like the sound of that-" My words were cut off by the front door slamming open and a blonde woman walking up the stairs without so much as a glance at us.

"Yeah Mary, walk away like you always do! Go on, drown your sorrows in Wine!" A man in a suit, who looked very similar to Steve stopped at the bottom of the stairs. "Don't worry! I'll get the bags!" 

"AT LEAST YOU'LL BE GOOD FOR SOMETHING!" The woman shouted

"I'M NOT GOOD FOR ANYTHING?! WHAT ABOUT YOUR CAR, THIS HOUSE, YOUR WARDROBE, ALL OF THAT CAME FROM ME SWEETHEART!" He stomped up the stairs and I turned to look at Steve, who was looking at the ground with an embarrassed look on his face.

"I really need to get my own place." He said quietly. I smiled sympathetically at him. "You should probably go." I nodded.

"I'll see you tomorrow?" he nodded and I put my hands on his face, pressing a slow, apologetic kiss to his lips before grabbing my bag and walking out the door to my truck.

~~~

When I got home, Dad was in a mood, as was evident from the multitude of beer cans surrounding him.

"You have to talk to her!" He exclaimed.

"Hi Riley, glad you got home ok. How was work?" I said sarcastically, dropping my bag in the floor. 

"3-inch minimum, that's what we discussed. Whenever Mike is here, the door must be open three inches!" I nodded.

"That's true, yes, however...that's your job, remember? I'm not doing the parenting thing anymore, we talked about this." I said.

"I've tried talking to her, she won't listen to me!"

"Talking to her or yelling at her?" I questioned. "Because believe it or not, there is a difference." He sighed and I opened the door, walking in to find Eleven laying on her bed, a giddy smile on her face. "You're gonna give him a heart attack."

"It was open three inches until he started spying." She pointed out.

"Yeah, that's kind of the point. He's making sure you two aren't getting involved in anything that thirteen-year-olds shouldn't be getting involved in." I said, stopping in front of the mirror and mussing my fingers through my hair.

"What about you?" She asked. I furrowed my eyebrows.

"What about me?" She stood up, walking over to me and pointing at my reflection.

"Hypocrite." She said. I followed her finger, my eyes landing on a small purple bruise residing on the side of my neck. I gasped, pushing my hair out of the way and running my fingers over it.

"Where did you even learn that word? And why do you know what that is?!" I exclaimed, turning around to look at her.

"Not from experience." She assured me, sitting down on her bed again. I turned back to the mirror, looking at the hickey in shock. I paused, turning around to face her.

"Need I remind you that I am eighteen years old, out of school, and able to do whatever I want. You however, are not." I said. "And if I find out that you had Mike in here with the door shut again, or are doing things you're not supposed to be, Dad is going to be the least of your worries." She nodded.

"Dustin comes home tomorrow," She said, bouncing slightly on her bed, "We are going to surprise him." I smiled.

"That'll be fun!" I exclaimed. "Tell him to stop by Scoops Ahoy when he gets a chance, Steve and I are dying to see him." She nodded.