Word Count: 1127

Steve can't stop thinking about Anastasia Amarin - not after that simple breakfast date since it had to be postponed until this morning - but forces himself to focus on Dustin as he gets up to the door for the dance. "So, remember, once you get in there..."

"Pretend like I don't care," Dustin says.

"You don't care."

"I don't care."

"There you go. You're learning, my friend. You're learning." But the more Steve thinks about it, the more he realizes that maybe he's wrong about that - no. Not possible. He's dating Anastasia Amarin for God sakes; but did he show her he didn't care? He's only pulled out of his thoughts when he notices Dustin checking his hair in the mirror of his car. "Hey."

"What?"

"Come on," he says softly, surprised at how much he adores this kid. "You look great, okay? You look... you look great. Now you're gonna go in there-"

"Yeah."

"-Look like a million bucks-"

"Yeah."

"-And you're gonna slay 'em dead."

"Like a lion." He purrs.

Steve tries not to wince but knows he made a face. "Uh... don't do that, okay?"

"Okay."

The older boy offers his hand and Dustin takes it, shaking it. "Good luck."

"You too." He nods to the blonde walking their way.

The moment Steve notices Anastasia, his breath is taken away. And Dustin grins to himself - for setting this up - before he goes into the dance, saying hi to Nancy who is in charge of handing out the punch, looking across the room at Jonathan taking pictures for the kids to take home if they want to. And he trusts the teenagers to their own demise or rise.

Steve gets out of his car in a hurry but holds back from hugging her, staring at her in wonder as she grins at him, spinning in her lilac, knee-high dress. "What do you think?" He doesn't manage to answer her completely because he stutters so she laughs a little. "That good, huh?"

"Better than I can use words to describe," he finally says.

She takes his hand in hers and tugs him away from his car. When they're a decent distance from the dance, she puts his hands on her waist before hers go behind his head. The two of them dance like this for a few moments, enjoying one another's company and soaking in the fact that they're in one piece and that nothing major has happened for an entire month.

"You're something else, Amarin," he mutters, putting his forehead against hers.

He can feel her grin. "I know, Harrington." She nudges his head back and meets his eyes before she presses her lips to his softly.

They both feel it: the sexual energy he had told Dustin about. And it feels even better than he could have imagined because every bone in his body wants to hold her closer, maybe have her tangle her hands in his hair. And, oh boy, when Anastasia Amarin's hand rests on Steve Harrington’s jaw, pulling him closer, and Steve Harrington’s hands slide to Anstasia Amarin's back, deepening the kiss so much that he can feel her slightly dip in his arms, he can't imagine anything better than this moment.

He can feel the world around them fall away, leaving just the two of them, allowing them to be themselves. Just Steve Harrington and Anastasia Amarin. Just Anastasia Amarin and Steve Harrington. And he begins to believe that everything can work out for them; that maybe, just maybe, he's not complete bullshit. Because, if he was bullshit, why would the blonde kissing him right now pull his lip with her teeth or grin against his mouth when he melts from her pulling the hair on the back of his head?

When they break away, his breath is gone and she's smiling at him in a way he feels throughout every cell in his being. "You're pretty strange too."

"I didn't call you strange," he says, defensively, trying to catch his breath.

"Well, I called you strange," she replies, "so, deal with it."

She kisses him again and he sighs into it, feeling content for the first time in a long while. He mutters against her lips, "I suppose I can do that."

And while the two of them are dancing to the faint music from inside, Nancy walks up to Dustin.

"Hey," she says.

"Hey," he replies quickly, wiping his tears.

She offers him her hand. "Wanna dance?"

"What?"

"Come on." She grabs his hand. "Let's go." He drags him to the dance floor and helps him dance. "Closer." He moves an inch. "A little closer. There we go." He smiles. "Now, feel the rhythm. Start to move to it." He listens. "Yeah. There."

"Good?" He asks.

"That's good," she replies, glad to get him to smile. "You know, our of all of my brother's friends, you're my favorite." A huge grin appears on his face. "You've always been my favorite."

"Really?"

She nods and they both notice the girls scoffing and staring. "Girls this age are dumb," she assures him. "But give them a few years, and they'll wise up. And, uh, you're gonna drive them nuts."

"You think so?"

"Oh, I know so."

"You and Steve are good teachers," Dustin says.

She smiles a little. "Most of stuff he knows was through me so, in reality, it's me that's the good teacher. Or Anastasia. She's taught him a lot too."

"You have no idea," he says with a chuckle, thinking of how he had told her what dances Steve needs to work on for the little moment he had helped make.

While Anastasia leads Steve through the moves of a classic ballroom dance, he struggles to not step on her feet. "Why do you know how to dance like this?" He asks.

"It was a part of the training for the League," she says with a shrug.

"Why?"

"So we could blend in better with royals who still hold balls. They have the most secrets and are, actually, the easiest ones to uncover in the setting of a ballroom if you can dance your way through."

He blinks. "I still can't believe that I'm dating an assassin."

"Scary girlfriend privileges, right?" She jokes.

"You knew?" He questions, his voice pitching a bit too high.

She puts her fingers under his jaw and meets his lips for a kiss. His hands move from her waist to her back as soon as her fingers tangle themselves in the hair by the nape of his neck. "Of course I knew," she mutters as against his mouth, "assassin, remember?"

"Silly of me to think otherwise," he stutters, kissing her again.