Work Text:
The Walkman, 1984
When Mom first told him to get Steve Harrington a Christmas gift, Jonathan had balked. He understands that they’re kind of friends now by extension but why was he the one tasked with finding the guy a present? But Joyce only rolled her eyes and sent him off with some money, telling him to go buy something guys Jonathan’s age likes. He didn’t tell her that the things he likes and the things Steve likes wouldn’t even belong in the same store altogether.
What does Steve Harrington even like?
Will wasn’t much help either, only shrugging and telling Jonathan that he was making Mike his present, a little sculpture of their characters from their campaign with the help of Joyce. Jonathan still isn’t sure if his brother was seriously suggesting he make a clay figure of Steve for his present. Asking Nancy for help was out of the question too. Jonathan is sure she wouldn’t mind because there is not a single mean bone in her body and she’s not one to hold animosity, but it’s still a sore subject for him more than her, so he avoided bringing Steve up entirely in their conversations.
In the end, the question of the Christmas present for Steve Harrington answered itself when he was cleaning his room. The Walkman was still in its packaging, and before Jonathan could change his mind, he had it wrapped up in a festive wrapping paper. It was a true Christmas miracle.
But now, standing at the door of the Harrington house on Christmas day, he is deeply beginning to regret every decision in his life that has led to this moment.
“Jonathan?” Steve looks surprised when he opens the door. Jonathan notices that there are other people inside, talking and mingling, not paying attention to Steve and him at all.
Jonathan gives an awkward wave. “Hey, it’s Christmas so I figured I’d get you a gift, but it’s okay if you’re having a party, I can just drop it.”
Steve looks even more surprised and steps outside, closing the door behind him. After staring at Jonathan for what feels like minutes, he breaks into that grin Jonathan has caught from the end of the school hallways time and time again. This is the first time one is directed at him, and Jonathan flushes, hoping it’s not noticeable in the cold.
“You got me a gift?” Steve asks, “Thanks, man.”
“My mom told me to,” Jonathan explains, and immediately winces internally because he can literally see Steve’s face contort into something else entirely before it returns to its natural form.
Steve’s mouth opens in an understanding ‘O’ and his smile is smaller, polite. Jonathan kicks himself in his mind.
“Well, give her my thanks too.”
Jonathan is about to say his goodbyes when Steve just starts opening the wrapping paper right in front of him. He looks on in horror. “What are you doing?”
“Well, I want to know what it is,” Steve says in an obvious tone and Jonathan remembers just how annoying Steve can be.
Jonathan shoves his hands in his coat pockets exasperatedly. “Couldn’t it wait until I’m gone?”
Steve doesn’t answer and rips the paper away to reveal his gift underneath.
“Oh, wow…” He looks surprised, but really, Jonathan doesn’t know what he was expecting.
“It’s nothing much… I didn’t know what to get you– I looked all over town, even catalogs– and this was a present from Bob that I never even opened,” Jonathan explains. He realizes belatedly that he’s talking too much. “I wasn’t really ready for someone like him in my life then… and now I don’t think I can bring myself to use it. Wait… is that bad? That I regifted you something a dead guy gave me?”
“No, it’s okay,” Steve says, distracted by looking over the Walkman. “This is great, I can finally listen to my Pat Benatar tapes in peace.”
Jonathan doesn’t really know who that is so he just smiles weakly again.
“Yeah, I thought about asking Nan– Um… Nancy– yeah, her… about what to get you but I thought it would have been pretty awkward.”
Steve laughs, but it’s an uncomfortable strained sound. “You don’t have to avoid mentioning Nancy, you know.”
I kind of do , Jonathan thinks miserably.
“Shit, I didn’t even get you anything this year,” Steve says in realization, eyes wide. He looks genuinely distraught about it for reasons Jonathan can’t ascertain.
“Oh, it’s no problem,” Jonathan is quick to assure because that would be so weird.
“I feel bad though, since I bought you that camera last year.”
Steve says it so casually but Jonathan feels his world turn on its axis slightly. It’s like when you find out Santa isn’t real, or that strawberries aren’t really berries. “Wait- y-you bought the camera that Nancy gave me last year?”
“Yeah…” Steve replies, drawing the word out. “I wasn’t sure how to give it to you, so she offered to do it for me and say it’s from her. She never told you the truth, huh?”
Jonathan shakes his head. He bites back the question of why Steve would do that, because the reason is clearly in front of him but Jonathan is too stubborn to accept it. It’s an act of kindness as well as an apology, a proverbial olive branch, but Jonathan isn’t ready to see it as such. He pushes the revelation into the back of his mind for later and focuses on the conversation at hand.
“Thank you for that,” Jonathan says, and he finds it in himself that he’s being sincere. “It’s a much better model than my last one.”
Steve nods, and they don’t need to verbalize it to know that they’re both thinking about what happened to that last camera.
“You don’t have to get me anything this year,” Jonathan says again to keep the conversation light, steering away from the elephant in the room.
“Do you want to come in for some drinks and snacks then? My mom got the whole party catered– the cookies are good but the fruitcakes are only so-so,” Steve says, rolling his eyes a bit, like having a catered party is a normal experience that all of them have had before. Jonathan is almost certain he has never had any food that wasn’t made by him or his mother on Christmas.
Jonathan swallows in a scoff of laughter, not wanting to ruin the easy flow between them. He supposes in many ways, it’s comforting to know that Steve is still his usual unconsciously entitled self because no one could change that much that would permanently alter Jonathan’s perception of them in a year. Even after everything, there is still a streak of the old Steve in him that Jonathan didn’t manage to punch out, and he’s weirdly glad about it.
“No, I’m okay. I promised Will I’d make sugar cookies with him since Mom’s working, and we’re going to Nancy’s later.”
And maybe he mentions Nancy just to be petty, twisting the knife in more.
“Okay,” Steve only says and gives him an easy smile, but Jonathan can tell his eyes are sad, round and brown like some kind of cartoon animal. He immediately feels bad, because now he is the one who is acting like an asshole for no reason.
“Well, I guess I’ll see you around,” Jonathan says, shameful heat rising in him now, a fire he can’t put out.
“Yeah, thanks for the present,” Steve waves him goodbye, still holding the rumpled package and Walkman in his other hand. “Tell Will and Mrs. Byers I said hi.”
“Uh huh,” Jonathan says as he turns to walk away. “Merry Christmas, Steve.”
“You too, Jonathan,” Steve calls. “See you soon!”
Jonathan says back, “Yeah, you too!” but the only thing in his mind as he makes his way back to his house is “God I hope not.”
It’s an echo of what Jonathan has thought again and again regarding Steve but this time, it’s for different reasons entirely.
The Concert, 1988
Jonathan begins to regret his friendship with Steve slightly by the 100th time they listen to Bruce Springsteen in the car. It’s not even that he dislikes the music. Born in the U.S.A. is a pretty great album, he admits, but just like eating bread for every meal can make you wish for a wheat famine, too much Springsteen can make you want to rip the tape player out of Steve’s car. But it seems like Steve has been in a Springsteen phase as of late, especially when they’re in the car. Jonathan’s car was in the shop for a week and during that time, he swears he learned the entirety of the lyrics to the man’s new album riding along with Steve.
Jonathan supposes it speaks volumes just how much he has grown to like Steve that instead of finding it grating and infuriating, he just thinks it’s extremely amusing at best and mildly annoying at worst. The fact that Jonathan still wants to kiss him is a wonder in and of itself.
Steve’s birthday is looming closer, occupying more and more of Jonathan’s brain as each day passes, and it pains him to say that the only thing on the forefront of his mind when he thinks about Steve’s present is fucking Bruce Springsteen.
So it feels like a cosmic joke when he overhears some people at the magazine talking about the upcoming Springsteen shows in town. Jonathan finds out that the shows will probably be sold out unless he is very lucky and very fast. But what is even the point of having a job in the music press if he is not exploiting his connections for personal gain? So by the end of the day, Jonathan has two tickets to the damn show in his hand after some asking around.
He just hopes Steve isn’t out of this phase by the time the concert rolls around.
The next time Jonathan’s inside Steve’s car, he is playing not Tunnel of Love, but tuned to some radio station playing a band he’s never heard of, and his heart skips a beat. But he keeps quiet to not rouse any suspicion– besides, Jonathan can’t have Steve thinking he actually misses Springsteen’s gravelly tones.
Steve’s birthday is a quiet affair– Jonathan meets up with him and some of his friends at a bar downtown for some drinks. Someone even procures a small cake, with a candle and everything, much to Steve’s delight. The others shower Steve with their gifts– ranging from the practical to the delightfully weird– but Jonathan saves his for when they get home.
At home, there are a few birthday messages waiting for Steve from their friends on their answering machine. After a brief but seemingly nice phone call from Steve’s mother, Jonathan makes his way over to where Steve is sitting on the floor, looking exhausted but adorable all the same.
Jonathan unceremoniously hands the tickets to Steve from where he is standing in front of him, trying to mask the subtle tremor of his hands.
The expression on Steve’s face is priceless.
“Happy Birthday, Steve,” Jonathan says with a sincere smile.
“Oh my God, Jonathan, thank you so much! I thought the show was sold out– this is amazing!” Steve's eyes light up as he takes the tickets, and Jonathan can’t help but watch the range of emotions that flickered across Steve's face — joy, surprise, and genuine gratitude. Jonathan's heart races, knowing that he is the cause of that happiness.
Jonathan lets out a breath of relief and chuckles. “You’re welcome. I was beginning to think you were over him.”
“No, no. I’ve been wanting to see him live,” Steve just replies, smile as wide as Jonathan has ever seen it.
Jonathan wishes he could bottle up the pure unadulterated joy on Steve’s face because he swears it could be a cure for depression. In these moments, the desire in Jonathan becomes almost unbearable, aching to just reach for Steve and hold him. Or kiss him senseless. Whatever gets him as close to Steve as possible. It’s an exercise in self-restraint that Jonathan is now painfully familiar with, and he goes through its motions, swallowing it all down and putting it under lock and key in his mind. Now is not the time to be pining after his friend.
Jonathan blinks and in the real world, Steve is still looking at the tickets in wonder. He looks up at Jonathan, looking impossibly cute and testing Jonathan’s resolve again.
“You’re coming with me, right?” Steve asks, hopeful. “You have to. Even if you hate him.”
A warmth flows its way through Jonathan’s body. Admittedly, he has bought two tickets in hopes that Steve would invite him, even though he wasn’t really expecting him to. Like Steve says, it’s not really Jonathan’s thing, and he would rather he goes with someone who will actually appreciate it fully.
“I will if you want me to,” Jonathan shrugs casually. “But I thought you’d invite Amelia– didn’t you say she loves him?”
“I’m sure she’s got a ticket already,” Steve waves Jonathan’s suggestion off. “I want you to come so you can see your greatest tormentor in the flesh.”
“Of course, dude,” Jonathan grins at that. “I already know all the words anyway.”
So that is how Bruce Springsteen’s biggest fan (for just this month at least) and a Bruce Springsteen tolerator end up near the front row of the show, both enjoying the concert for very different reasons. Jonathan couldn’t care less about the show, but being the reason Steve looks so happy now is all the fulfilment he needs. And maybe, just maybe, this will finally put this phase to an end.
But standing there in the venue, watching the man squeeze water down his crotch from a sponge after one of the songs, Jonathan decides a Springsteen concert is not that bad after all. Especially when Steve is there with him, blushing the whole way through the display.
The Photobook, 1992
Jonathan remembers the first time he took a photo of Steve.
It was his first year in the yearbook club, and he had been given the task of photographing the basketball team. Everyone had just about the same level of enthusiasm he had, which is to say, none at all. Steve, most of all, had looked bored out of his mind as Jonathan instructed him where to stand. Jonathan doesn’t even fully remember how it turned out, just that vacant and subtly scrutinizing look in Steve’s eyes.
Jonathan lost touch with his passion for a while in California, but the moment the dust cleared, he had found himself a barely used Canon AE-1 and he was right back into seeing everything through the lens of his camera.
Now, almost two years into their relationship, the number of photos of Steve that Jonathan has taken has increased so significantly that anyone who stumbles upon that folder in Jonathan’s drawer would probably be concerned. And that’s not even counting the countless others that never got developed and only exist in the rolls of film that Jonathan can’t bring himself to throw away even though they’re degrading in quality with each day.
So it seems only fitting that once the time comes for Jonathan to start thinking about an anniversary gift, his mind gravitates towards what he knows best. Will has always given Mike something he made with his own hands as a gift, and that seems to be going well for him, so Jonathan might as well follow in his lead.
Late into the night, with only the soft glow of the desk lamp and Steve cluelessly asleep in their bed, Jonathan works in secret, carefully selecting photographs that span the entirety of their relationship. Memories of hazy evenings filled with smoke and laughter, blurry and unfocused. Steve in a well-tailored suit at Mom and Hopper’s wedding, looking a million dollars. Jonathan has never forgotten the way Steve looked him up and down and said teasingly, “You clean up nice, Byers”. Then, Chicago– and their short stint as tourists, then settling as transplants. The shots of Steve as they made the apartment their own, looking grumpy that Jonathan was taking photos instead of helping him, get a laugh out of Jonathan even now.
The pictures shift dramatically in tone once they enter their relationship. The artless snapshots of Steve doing normal things are replaced by carefully composed portraits and more meticulous framings. There are still many casual photos to sift through– especially the Polaroids– but the ones where Steve was more or less Jonathan’s muse are his favorites. While a lot of the candid shots reflect how adorably beautiful Steve is, the other ones just show how devastatingly handsome Steve can be.
One of Jonathan’s favorites is a black-and-white shot of his boyfriend leaning over the counter, dressed in a simple shirt with the top buttons open to reveal his chest, with his glasses on. His shorter hair is impeccably tousled as always and he’s looking straight at the camera with a faint smile. It’s pretty innocuous, as far as photos of a significant other can go, but Jonathan just loves the simplicity of it. He fondly remembers that particular morning in the kitchen– just looking at the picture again brings back the smell of overcooked pancakes and whipped cream.
Jonathan has even taken some pictures of him in bed, still mussed with sleep, grinning against his pillow, every bit the charmer Jonathan fell in love with, from the moment he wakes up. Developing those proves to be a hassle; Jonathan doesn’t leave the darkroom for the whole day, paranoid that someone might see them when Steve, sleepy and endearing, is for his eyes only. Another one of those is a photo of Steve, asleep in bed, on a day when he can’t bring himself to get up. Jonathan decides to leave that one out of his book, unsure Steve would appreciate it.
To create the full narrative, he tries to find the photo that started it all again– the one of the basketball team– but his copy of that yearbook is lost to time and the multiple moves of their home. In the later pages, Jonathan adds photos of himself too, almost all of them taken by Steve. There’s one he especially loves, of him looking startled at his photo being taken, finally getting a taste of his own medicine. Photos of them together are rarer, but the ones that exist are some of Jonathan’s most treasured memories of his relationship with Steve so far. Perhaps it’s because they were more of commitments– setting up a tripod and timer, and making sure the framing is just right– but the picture of them against the backdrop of the stretching fields of Indiana is his favorite, even though it really has no artistic merit beyond recalling the desolate beauty of Badlands.
The process is both an artistic endeavor and a trip down memory lane. Along the way, it nearly escapes Jonathan that it is a gift for Steve because of how much fun he is having with this project. The photos serve as tangible markers of their journey for Jonathan to reflect upon. How things can change far beyond his imagination in just a few years. Underneath each picture, Jonathan writes some words, mainly cheesy sweet nothings and stupid jokes that he would blush saying them aloud. He even pastes some of the little notes they’ve written each other that he’s saved to the pages, as well as other keepsakes they’ve accrued over the years.
Steve is none the wiser, even as Jonathan starts dropping hints and pestering him with his camera more as the day approaches. To his credit, he doesn’t complain about the attention Jonathan places upon him; if anything, he welcomes all of it, just getting payback later when he tickles Jonathan until he’s crying through his laughter.
When Jonathan hands the finished scrapbook to Steve, his hands are shaking slightly with excitement. Even after all this time, Steve seems to be surprised that Jonathan is giving him a present, on their anniversary no less. Immediately he barks out a laugh at the caption Jonathan has written under the first photo, of Steve glancing back at him, running a hand through his hair casually: Look at you, pretending like you didn’t know I was taking your picture.
“I really didn’t know!” He defends himself, chuckling.
“Yeah, right. That’s why you were posing like the next Marlboro Man.” Jonathan joins in with his laughter, resting his head on Steve’s shoulder.
The Getaway, 1994
The city, with its loud bustle and blues, is weighing on Steve’s shoulders, Jonathan can tell. It’s been a while since they have been on vacation that doesn’t have to do with them visiting friends or family. It’s something that’s been on Jonathan’s mind more these days when he notices the slump in Steve’s shoulders and the frustrated huffs at the ceaseless hum of the city. They also haven’t spent a lot of quality time together recently; Jonathan is going out more and doing the thing he hates most– talking to strangers, while Steve meets up with his grieving friend whose mother has passed away every few days to check in on him.
So when Jonathan spots an opening in their lives, determined to lift the heaviness that clings to Steve, he seizes the opportunity immediately, planning a surprise getaway for them.
After everything has been set in place, on an unsuspecting Friday, Jonathan goes by the studio where Steve is working, arming himself with a bouquet of roses. Steve has been working longer hours than usual, because call time is at six for the crew, and they don’t get to leave till the last shoots are finished. But today they seem to be finishing early, and Jonathan watches the hair and makeup team file out. He hides his face behind the flowers when he sees Steve in the far distance, waiting to see if he notices him. Steve is talking to one of his coworkers, but after he says goodbye, his eyes land on the man with flowers for his face.
Peeking through the flowers, Jonathan sees that Steve has spotted him, and can’t contain a small giggle that escapes his mouth. He stays completely still as Steve walks over, surprise dancing across his face.
“Hey,” Jonathan greets, his face still hidden behind the bouquet.
“Hey,” Steve laughs, a bright happy sound that always floods Jonathan’s heart with warmth. He steps into Jonathan’s space, fingers lightly brushing against his in a greeting. “I wasn’t expecting you.”
Jonathan easily presses a quick kiss to Steve’s lips, paying no mind to the people passing by them. “Got you roses for your wrap day. Did it go well?”
Steve nods tiredly and steals another kiss before answering. “Yeah, final shoots are done, they won’t need me and the team unless they do reshoots later.”
“Is there a wrap party tonight?”
“Hm, yeah. We’re all invited but I don’t need to go. Why, did you want to come with?”
Jonathan shakes his head fondly. “I think you know I don’t.”
Steve laughs as they walk to the parking lot together, keeping a hand on Jonathan’s back.
“You look oddly jovial. What’s the special occasion?” Steve asks, leaning down slightly to smell the roses.
“Nothing,” Jonathan says, but his voice cracks with giddiness so Steve gives him an unconvinced look.
“I have a surprise planned for us since we’re both free this weekend,” Jonathan reveals with a hopeful smile. A warm glow begins budding in the pit of his stomach. “If you’re up for it.”
Steve’s beam of surprise and the radiant smile spreading across his face is the only answer Jonathan needs, and an hour later, they’re cruising down I-80. It’s an exhilarating notion that Steve is prepared to follow Jonathan no matter where. Jonathan is at the wheel and Steve breathes in the crisp clean air, sighing contently as Salt-N-Pepa blasts from the radio. Jonathan can literally sense the stress leaving his body in waves as they move further and further into the countryside, and he smiles to himself, stealing glances at Steve’s beaming face.
On the ride, Steve asks about their destination, but Jonathan doesn’t tell him, leaving Steve to find out himself when Jonathan pulls off the highway to what he knows is a state park there.
They arrive at the park in time for the sunset and start their hike, passing through the canyons and waterfalls, the air that was once tinged with exhaust fumes now carrying the scent of pine and earth. As they meander through the park’s trails, the distant echoes of the city fade away into the rustling leaves of the woodlands, leaving them only in each other’s company. Steve’s eyes light up with each new thing they come across, and Jonathan can’t resist capturing these moments with his camera. They squabble about which route to go and Steve trips and almost falls more than once because he is busy looking around, and they have to take frequent breaks to rest, but it’s the best time they’ve had in a long time.
At night, when they are looking at the clear sky populated with stars from a secluded opening in their campground, with only the trees and the silence to accompany them, Steve marvels at the faint nebula he sees through the telescope that Jonathan borrowed from one of his artist friends. In the darkness, away from the city lights, Jonathan senses a peace settling over Steve, the twinkle in his eyes rivaling the stars above. It’s such a simple gesture, but bringing Steve here feels like his greatest achievement.
“Thanks, Jon. I really needed this,” Steve says later, into the dark, when they are lying together under the blanket in their tent.
Jonathan kisses the back of Steve’s neck from where he is curled up against him instead of a reply.
Jonathan, 1995
When Jonathan considers his relationship with Steve, he mostly thinks about the mundane– the simple comfort he finds in taking showers together and washing Steve’s hair, the nights when they curl up on the couch together, the days when he feels shattered and Steve is there for him.
But nights like this feel different, a palpable significance lingering in the air, and Jonathan remembers every provocative detail. Steve has become a physical part of him, imprinted and ingrained in his synapses, taking residence in the pathways where memories are created in the brain. He’s present in the hickeys on his neck, the light bruises on his waist, and sometimes even the teeth marks near his hips. It feels like a foregone conclusion that Jonathan ends up here, a decade later after knowing Steve– sitting there patiently on their bed, waiting, completely exposed, save only for the sheer black negligee that doesn’t leave much to the imagination.
They don’t indulge in whatever this is often– or nearly enough, in Jonathan’s opinion– considering his own inconsistent sex drive. Sometimes, they don’t even get to the actual sex part when doing this. In many ways, this is a gift– more precious than any other tangible material present would be. The surrender of control. The submission really. It isn’t just about the physical act; it’s the trust he’s placing in Steve’s hands and the sinful arousal of it all. It’s something that took Jonathan years to admit he desires, this inexplicable sensation of pleasure he derives from giving everything over to Steve.
Of course, that’s a lie. Jonathan has as much agency as he does anywhere else and can end all this with a single word if he wants to. It’s more accurately the illusion of the lack of control that entices him, and Steve’s instinctual knowledge of what Jonathan needs. The first time he stood in front of Steve in a similar silk lingerie, any doubt that he had harbored was swiftly extinguished when Steve looked at him like he was the most precious thing on the planet. In that way, Jonathan supposes, this is a gift for both of them.
Jonathan keeps his hands clasped behind his back on the bed even as he leans against the headboard, though Steve cannot see him, and fidgets. He hopes Steve chooses to bind his wrists with his tie tonight, but really, Jonathan has no say in the matter. Jonathan only knows Steve will take care of him, the way he has time and time again, with his gentle voice and firm directives. Steve is a solid six foot of confidence in these nights, the way Jonathan needs him to be.
Jonathan has rarely felt pretty, attractive, or beautiful, or anything else Steve says he is. It’s not even a matter of self-esteem, he just doesn’t think of himself that way. But looking in the mirror in the bathroom as he gets ready, he finally understands some of where Steve is coming from. The little nightie he’s got for the occasion stretches across his chest, lying flat where the breasts should be, and the thin straps strain against his broad shoulders, but he decides he looks quite good in it, especially the way the garment clings to his narrow waist before flaring out slightly. It only drapes halfway across his thighs, and the silky fabric brushes against his cock whenever he shifts. He’s shaved his legs too, and the feeling of the soft sheets directly in contact with his smooth skin never fails to overwhelm Jonathan’s senses and makes everything else feel more heightened.
The foreign itchiness of the lace hem against his chest is not so much a nuisance as a pleasant reminder of what the night has in store for them, making Jonathan shift again. The garment is light as can be, yet it still carries a weight on his chest, but it’s far from the unending pressure of his worst days. It’s heavy but soothing– a cozy blanket on a chilly evening. It feels like forever since he last saw Steve in the living room after they had returned from their dinner, the time crawling by like ants, but it can’t be more than twenty minutes or so since he was sent away to get ready.
Jonathan keeps his mind off his arousal and instead reaches back to the first time one of Steve’s smiles was directed at him. It felt like a gift back then, and it feels like a gift now, to have Steve in his life. Jonathan doesn’t know if he believes in fate or destiny, but this feels pretty close to it, that this wonderful person is the one he spends his days and nights with. The one Jonathan feels comfortable in tearing down his walls and showing what’s behind them. The one that Jonathan lets tie him up and wears pretty lingerie for. The only one that Jonathan allows to draw out the gasps and whimpers that he doesn’t let anyone hear, the only one where Jonathan feels comfortable losing himself completely in that weird fantastical headspace. It still manages to make Jonathan’s chest tighten weirdly whenever he thinks too hard about it.
When Steve finally comes in, still dressed in his ridiculously perfect suit with only the tie loosened– the epitome of composure other than the mussed hair from when they were making out earlier– Jonathan is restless again, the blood in his veins crackling in anticipation and nerves. But when Steve shoots him a wide appreciative smile that has melted his heart and shaped it back over and over, and tells him that he looks amazing, all his worries are laid to rest, like that first night and the countless nights after that.
Jonathan smiles in return, sitting up on his knees, closes his eyes, and feels Steve’s eyes rake over his present as he walks over to the bed.