december 1983
steve harrington sat on the couch waiting for his girlfriend, nancy to come back with two glasses of water before they started watching A Christmas Story. that's when she walked through the front door, removing her winter pea coat, which was dark navy, and her scarf. she walked toward the kitchen but stopped when she saw steve.
she said hi and smiled and he did the same. before he could get another word past his lips, she floated delicately into the kicthen, taking some of the dinner their mother had made an hour earlier.
"you're home late," nancy noted from the fridge.
"the event ran later than expected. but jonathan brought me home," she replied.
"byers?" nancy asked, "how is he?"
"he's fine," (y/n) said, "photography's been better since he got the camera. he says thank you, by the way."
"he doesn't have to mention it," nancy insisted sweetly.
even as steve sat there in his own little world, he could feel the butterflies engulfing his stomach and the blush that was rising into his cheeks. she was what he needed and he knew it. she was the thing he'd been looking for the whole time.
and she wasn't nancy wheeler, the reason he was there. she was (y/n) wheeler, the reason he realized why he was anywhere to begin with.
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