#steven grant request
forgetful
steven grant x reader with she/her pronouns
request:I have a steven grant request! Can you do like some hurt/comfort where they get into this massive argument and marc kind of coaches him into what Steven should do?
author’s note: okay to be fair it was so hard to come up with a solid reason for y/n and steven to have a fight. because he’s such a sweetheart! and yes, he’s late to work, and yes, he loses days off his life, but that’s not intentional, and not his fault. we know what he’s gone through. so i don’t know what steven could have ever done to make y/n upset… i’ll come up with the best possible scenario that i can lol, but it’s gonna be hard. happy (?) reading!
word count: 4.3k
warnings:angst, but they make up :) so eventual fluff
gif credit to owner!! (my beautiful boy☹️)
exhausted from her job, ready to have a nice cuddle session with your beloved, you practically fall through the door of your shared apartment. since he asked you to move in with him a short while ago, albeit while he’s still working on his sleeping disorder, his apartment has now become your shared apartment. and that comes with responsibilities to stick to on both sides.
it doesn’t surprise you that he’s not home yet—he had a free day and could use it for his desires—it just saddens you. because all you want to do is crash into his arms and have him hold you as you try to rest. with pouting lips, you flip the light switch on the left from the entrance door, so the kitchen light would illuminate the rest of the apartment. and what that reveals to you is not only shocking, but disappointing, as well.
plants on the tables and windowsills are clearly dying faster than usual—they haven’t been watered. there’s dirty dishes in the sink, on the counter, on the coffee table, and even an unwashed pot on the stove. a pile of clothes on the sofa, the laundry basket completely filled to the brim by the bathroom door. and, when you open the fridge in your already disappointed and gutted state, you discover it’s practically empty. no new groceries.
steven knows how busy these two work weeks are for you, this one and the following, and so you both had a deal that for these two weeks, on his spare time, he would look after the apartment. do all the little errands, buy groceries and over-all work on the apartment not becoming a big mess. you don’t mind his mess of books, dvds and notebooks on his study table—that doesn’t bother you. but you’re over-worked, steven’s nowhere to be seen, and the apartment is a mess. do you have to do all of this that steven promised he would do, now, tired beyond measure and quite literally unable to move a single muscle?
to top it all off, your cat sphynx is running towards you from the bedroom part of the apartment, meowing, calling for you. you begin to shed tears as you squat down to her level and begin petting her, and your eyes wander over to her trays of food and water. the wet food plate is empty, her water’s dirty and her cookie bowl could hardly qualify as one, as there are no cookies in it. you huff deeply and squeeze your eyes shut, hoping it will stop the tears. but it does the exact opposite.
it doesn’t help that sphynx is purring and meowing and pushing closer to you, and that you can hear the hunger and desperation in her voice. it doesn’t help that your manager at work has been a complete wanker, it doesn’t help that you’ve still got piles of work to do even when you’re home. all for that damn project you signed on for just for that bit of extra money, so that you and steven might go on a little trip in the summer.
to Egypt, his favourite place on earth. and yours now, too. you’d planned a whole trip that includes the historic sites, and some bit of art in places, too. plus the breath-taking nature of the country.
is it all worth it? for steven who can’t fulfil his promises. and this isn’t the first time it’s happened. there have been many instances before, but because you love him and had time to do all the errands yourself, you batted an eye and did all those things for him. because you love him. and because he’s not perfect, and neither are you.
but this time, it’s much different. you made a hard bargain that he’d do all the little things this flat requires, and you know that he knows how much you’re working these two weeks. you’re just out of your depth this time. and you need to talk to him about this, tell him that he’s really upset you this time. voice your feelings, because you can’t keep them inside anymore. not this time.
so where is he? he should be home. it’s already half past eight, where could he be? as far as you know, as steven has told you, he doesn’t have much going on except for his job, as sad as he is about it. no social clubs, no sports activities, no friends to meet. so where could he be?
you’re in the middle of feeding sphynx when the apartment door finally opens and closes, and steven locks it behind him. you push yourself up straight on your feet with a heavy sigh and turn to face steven. “hiya, love,” he muses in the most loving voice he has that usually has you swooning for him, and there’s a smile on the man’s face. you nearly tear up more at how happy he looks. you don’t want to ruin that, you don’t want to make him feel bad. but you’re just so tired. steven puts his bag and a boquet of flowers on your kitchen table, and he turns to you again, clearly happy to see you. his smile falls at the sight of you, your glassy eyes and red cheeks from crying, “oh, no, what’s wrong?” steven inquires and steps closer to you.
but your body acts on its own instincts, and you pull back from him. “where have you been?” you ask him, your lip quivering and voice low, shaky. if you’d talk any louder, you’d start to really cry. and you don’t want that, because it’d be a distraction for steven. he gulps and gathers himself, standing in front of you now very reserved. you don’t want him to touch you, he can see that.
“donna needed some things from me down at work, i got coffee on the way and then i… got you some flowers.” steven says with an attempted smile on his lips. “is everything alr—”
“were you at work the whole day?” you clarify what you want from him, your voice now verging on angry as much as you don’t want it to. yes, you are upset with him, but you don’t want him to feel bad. you just want him to know what he’s done wrong.
“no, i was… i was here,” steven answers, “i slept in, did my reading. donna called me an hour or so ago.”
your head shakes. “did your reading…” you echo and lean yourself against the kitchen counter, holding your face in your hands, still trying to avoid crying at your best ability, wanting to most certainly hide that from steven. he’s very confused, looking at you with furrowed eyebrows and a frown on his face. “you were here, home, the wholeday,” you begin to say as you pull your hands away from your face, “and you couldn’t feed sphynx? you couldn’t do the laundry or—or take out the rubbish? or buy groceries, or do the dishes?” you ask him, and your voice can’t stay away from breaking and shaking anymore. you’re crying now, and you can’t stop it. you watch steven’s face for any kind of response, and the one you get is realisation. and remembering. “i don’t want to be bossy, and i hope i haven’t been bossy ever, but… steven, you—”
he shakes his head and takes another two steps towards you. whether you’re too tired to move or don’t actually want to move away from him for some other reason, you stay right where you are. though emotions are bubbling up right inside you, making you feel like anything could tick off that explosion and take steven with it. and you don’t exactly want that.
“i’m so sorry, love,” he tells you in a quiet voice, “completely went out of my head, i—”
you look at him sharply after a shake of your head, complete disbelief on your face. “went out of your head? you didn’t see any of this?” you gesture around the flat, and steven’s eyes follow what you mean, with your precisely pointed hand to pieces of the mess. “we made a deal.” you say quieter, and the tears in your eyes shake because of the state of your voice, blurring your vision of steven in front of you. “we made a deal because of my work schedule.” you whisper and wipe away the tears that have fallen. you realise you’re still wearing your outdoor jacket, and you sigh deeply, looking away from steven. “i can hardly move myself, i can’t… i can’t do all this.”
now, steven doesn’t know what to do. you have never had a fight between the two of you before, not even a little disagreement, and so this is strange territory for him. he doesn’t know what to say, he doesn’t have any excuse or reason for not filling his end of the bargain, he doesn’t know what to say. all he knows is that he’s sorry, and that he wants everything to be okay.
you see his silence, and you hear it in its entire volume. it’s loud. it says much more than any of his words ever could. you don’t want to hurt him, you didn’t want to hurt him, or make him feel bad. you hate to see those feelings on him, as he’s always riddled with anxiety, anyway, and you hate that he is. but this is… something else.
you shake your head and shrug off your jacket. “i’m tired,” you tell him, “if you don’t… i mean, i don’t know.” you put your face in your hands again. what do you say, what do you tell him now? how do you end this? “i’m going to bed.” you say finally, not having any other solution for the situation right now. you wipe your tears again and walk past steven, trying not to let his lonely, confused stance hurt you. you don’t want to tell him what to do, you don’t want to have to tell him what to do. it’s not your place anymore, and there’s nothing more you can do or say right now for either of your benefit.
steven watches you walk through the flat, into the partial privacy of the bedroom part of the flat, and he stands still. a frown on his lips. heavy breaths rupturing his lungs. “now what have you done?” that long-awaited voice at the back of his head finally speaks up, and though steven is very irritated by it, he sighs in relief when it comes. marc is a twat most of the time, but sometimes he has handy advice. especially in lady things.
not that steven needed marc’s advice or help to start being with you, initiate that first conversation that landed him a date, which landed him a lot more. he watches as you enter the bathroom and close the door behind you. your sobs aren’t inaudible to him, though, even through the door. “you’re one to talk, marc,” steven whispers under his breath and then turns his back to the rest of the flat, facing the sink full of hisundone dishes and gripping the counter. he hears marc’s chuckle, “how you treat women is beyond me.”
marc chuckles again, “don’t turn this on me, steven,” he says, “i know you need my help.” he states, and steven can see marc’s smirk in the silver metal reflection of the sink. steven sighs, shaking his head. but marc is right, and the bastard knows it. he gives steven a few moments before he breaks, though, he knows he needs them.
“alright, fine!” steven caves in, and hears the door of the bathroom open and close again. you’re really heading to bed now. but he hears the sound of you taking something heavy out of your bag and only then plop down on the plump bed. “we’ve never had a fight before, and i’ve messed up terribly, mate, i don’t even know how to start doing anything or if i should do anything. i know i should, because it’s truly my fault, but what?!”
“first of all, breathe,” marc says with a slight chuckle, “second of all, do everything that was in your deal or whatever.”
“don’t make fun of it! it’s important to me.” steven corrects him quickly. marc shakes his head.
“then you wouldn’t have screwed it up, stevie,” marc argues back. that is also true, “do everything one by one. put music on in your headphones while you do it—whatever. the silence between you is awkward enough for me, and she won’t want to talk to you, anyway.”
“then what?” steven asks, as that was already on his mind to do.
“then…” marc sighs, thinking this is really a hopeless case, “talk to her. just apologise, really apologise, like you mean it. because you will. you love her, you want her to be okay, you want her to feel… appreciated.” he lists off in a bored voice. “she’s the best thing that’s ever happened to you, man, make an effort.” steven groans.
“i want to, but i have no clue, mate!” he says. “stop condescending…”
“i’m not, man, i’m just telling you—”
“on me,” steven gets frustrated, “she means the world to me, and i’ve screwed up terribly, i wish i could just… get a time machine or something.”
marc laughs sinisterly. “oh, no, you don’t.”
steven pauses. “don’t tell me we’ve been in a time machine, too.” he says with a shake of his head.
“that’s not the point now,” marc says, “if you hadn’t screwed up, you wouldn’t have that chance now to show her how sorry you are for screwing up, to show her how much you appreciate her, and that you will keep your promises. from now on, at least,” steven lets that last nasty remark fly by because marc is helping. steven understands what he means, “just do your best, steven, really. i’ll be here for anything, you know that.”
“how could i not,” steven replies and turns away from the sink and marc’s reflection in it. he glances at you past one of his shelves, just far enough so you won’t notice him staring but he’ll have a good look at you. you’re laying in the bed in one of your long-sleeved pyjama shirts, a pair of shorts and socks on your legs that stretch out before you, a laptop on your tummy and the bedside lamp turned on. your eyes are fixed on the screen, not even looking anywhere else than a single point in it.
steven pulls back, his hand over his chest. he has to get on with it, because he wants to make you feel better the sooner the possible. so he sticks headphones into his ears, like marc suggested, and gets to work, his first thing to do is get the dishes out of the way. while he does all the things, one by one, including the groceries—a late trip down to the nearest shop—, he thinks about what to say to you.
apologise, excuse himself—no, that won’t do. apologise, explain himself—that’s better. apologise, explain himself, (which will be hard cause he honestly doesn’t have a reason for not doing anything, he just didn’t) promise to do better, and actually do better, fulfil his promise. he honest to god doesn’t know he’s left some things around before, you haven’t told him because those little things weren’t that much of a bother. and you don’t want him to feel guilty, and you don’t want him to feel that heavy feeling that this has been weighing you down or something, because it hasn’t. he worries about everything all the time, anyway, and you don’t wish for him to worry about something else because of you.
the reason you’re hurt so much from this, so disappointed by this, is because you love him. and he’s let you down. if he had been any other person, anyone who you don’t love so dearly, so intimately, it wouldn’t burn into your heart as painfully.
so after all is said and done, you’ve watched him get about the house and even leave and then fill the fridge with groceries, all of that making you tear up more, you put your laptop down on the floor beside the bed and turn off the light. you turn to lay on your side, and you see steven coming towards you out of the corner of your eye. you don’t want to let him know that you’re watching him, but you’re curious. and you want to look at him, you want to watch him, to see him.
steven sits down on the bed, right by the ends of your feet, and sighs quietly. he wouldn’t want you to think doing all of that burdened him or was hard to do. but you don’t think that. you know his capabilities, and you know him, most of all. of course it took a lot of effort, because he did his best, but it didn’t drain him. but you don’t bat an eye, don’t turn your head to steven, don’t look at him, as he now sits with you. the idea to pretend you’re sleeping even crosses your mind, but you know that he knows you’re not asleep.
and you need to talk about this. you have to give him another chance to say something, or at least try to say something. “i hope…” you say quietly, and then sigh as tears fall from your eyes again, over your nose, onto the pillow and your hair below now. steven’s head turns to look at you, “i hope you didn’t do it all just because i’m upset.” you finally say.
steven huffs, feels his hands nervously sitting in his lap. “no,” he says, “i did it because we made a deal,” he tells you in full seriousness, though his voice remains as shaky and nervous as ever. that admittance, though, means everything to you.
“put your hand on her thigh, steven,” marc speaks to him, and steven nearly cusses him out of the conversation, “come on, don’t be scared, do it. she won’t pull away.” he assures his alter, and steven huffs quietly as he does what he’s told. he moves his hand towards your bare thigh, and he feels slight goosebumps on your skin upon the first touch. but he has learned to not take it as offense or denial, it’s just a physical reaction to a touch. he rests his whole, warm palm on your thigh, and you don’t protest against it in any way. “do little circles on her skin, you know she likes it when you do. it always calms her.”
so steven does that, as well. he looks at your face, and sees you’ve still got tears in your eyes, but now they’re joined by a sad smile on your plump lips. “i really am sorry, love,” steven tells you, “none of it was intentional. i honestly… don’t have an excuse or explanation for it. the most natural thing is just that i forgot. i saw, for example, the dishes on the coffee table, and told myself that i’ll do them. but as soon as i get a chance to, i’ve forgotten again.” steven shakes his head and looks away from you. you can tell that he’s not lying. by his voice, mostly, it always grows huskier and quieter when he’s telling you something honest, something he’s maybe never said before. and now he’s explaining how his mind works, and you can tell that it’s true. and it’s fascinating, as well, how differently his mind works from yours. you smile more shyly now. “should just do them right away, but i don’t know why i don’t,” he explains further, “i’m really sorry. i know how tired you are from work now, and i’m proud of everything you do.” he looks down at you, and discovers that now you have turned to partly lay on your back, and are looking at him. finally. you’re listening, as well. “this won’t happen again. you know what i’ll do, love? i’ll make a list of all the little flat errands, just small reminders, and stick them all around the place so that i never forget.” he tells you, and you nod in response, more tears of gratefulness filling your eyes. you believe him. “maybe i’ll grow out of my habit and start doing them on the spot, who knows?” steven says and even laughs.
you can’t help but chuckle quietly, too, and you wipe your eyes clean of tears and sit up now. steven’s hand draws away from your skin, to which you both nearly pout. but with the plan you have in mind, you know that’s not gone long. “can you just… come here?” you ask him and steven nods without a second’s hesitance. he shuffles across the bed to be closer to you, until he’s sitting right in front of you, inches away from you. you lay one of his hands on your thigh again, and you give him a look. steven smiles at that gesture, smiles quite cheekily and adoringly, and your heart melts at the sight. marc was right, you really do love steven caressing soft figures into your skin.
“you’re not mad at me anymore?” steven asks, that in-love smile still on his features. your hand rests on his shoulder as you look into his eyes, look across his slightly dishevelled hair and his ever-so-beautiful brown eyes.
“well, i still am a little bit,” you tell him and his smile fades a little, “but you’ve made up for it.” you say with an assuring nod, and steven’s smile returns, now being one of relief, barring some of his crazily-neat teeth to you in the process. you adore those kind-of smiles on him. “and i know i can trust your promises now,” you say, and now steven nods at you. inch by inch, you scoot your nose and lips closer to his, melting into the soft caresses of his thumb on the skin of your thigh, not being able to hold off anymore, until your lips are actually touching and you both connect in a loving kiss.
“i love you,” steven mumbles against your lips as he carefully circles his arm around your waist, “and i’m still sorry. i mean that, and i will say that until you’re not mad at me anymore.”
you chuckle lowly, carding a hand into steven’s hair, wanting to tease him as you know how much he loves it when you do that. “i’m always mad at you, silly,” you tell him in return, now pulling away after one last kiss that you lay on his lips, and now you caress his cheek with your hand, “for the best of reasons.” you assure and softly bump your forehead with his. you close your eyes as you do so, but steven keeps his open to just look at you. “i love you, steven, i really do,” you tell him, “hope you don’t doubt that for a second. i wouldn’t be so mad if i didn’t love you. and i definitely love you more than this… argument or whatever.”
steven nods against you. “i know,” he says, “i know you do. and i know i’m a mess.”
“hey, no—” you already start to shake your head, and you even move a hand down to his chest, where you lay it sprawled out across the button-up covered flesh.
“no, it’s true, i am a mess,” steven sticks to his own, “we both know it, and, well… it stupid that it gets in the way of our relationship. i’ll do everything i can to prevent that. i’m gonna try really hard, love.”
you smile. “steven, i’m not perfect, either,” you say and lift your head up to look at him, “we’re a team, remember?” you look straight into his eyes, and see him agreeing, nodding his head. “thank you. for trying, for everything.” you tell him, and he nods again. before he can lean in to give your lips another kiss, sphynx unexpectedly jumps onto the bed with a sound that she uses to announce her presence, startling you both. but you chuckle at her arrival and pet her back as she circles between you both, purring and making all kinds of pleasant noises.
“hello there, little lady,” steven says sweetly to her and scratches just below her chin, knowing the cat’s sweet spots as well as yours. you chuckle and wipe your tears away again, “get up to any trouble while your parents are talking?” he asks, leaning down close to sphynx. you lean back in the bed, your back against the headboard, as you just watch steven with sphynx. “i think it’s bed time, little lady.” steven whispers to her and then sends a wink your way before getting up from the bed to take his clothes off.
after a quick trip to the bathroom and changing into his pyjamas, steven’s in bed with you again and snuggling close to you, his arms around you, his nose and lips in your hair, pulling you closer, closer, closer. but sphynx wants to always get the last word, always wants to be in the middle of everything. and when she starts pushing herself to lay between the both of you, making your postures quite uncomfortable, you both just burst out laughing.
“guess we know the real master of the house now,” steven concludes, and makes you laugh with those words. you just tug sphynx in a more comfortable position for the three of you, close your eyes and rest your head against steven’s chest. you’re still so thankful for him showing initiative and making up for wrong doings, that you fall asleep with a smile on your face.
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sunshine in human form
sleepyendymion‘s request:i heard you were asking for steven grant requests so i am here! could you do steven x reader and they’re on a date? steven is talking rambling about egyptology and the reader is just watching him talk with absolute heart eyes. at one point steven stops talking and asks if his nonstop rambling is annoying and the reader tells him that she absolutely loves watching him talk about something he’s so passionate about.
author’s note: hello :))) first steven request that i’m writing heheheheh. since i’ve been on reader’s end a few times in my life before (not romantically, tho :d), i know how to write this. and i’ve been on steven’s end of the situation, too. i’m so much like him, it’s unreal. so happy reading!!! <3
disclaimer:short, 1.5k words, sort of a blurb :) reader has she/her pronouns
a/n: you are so gorgeous !!! to meeeee!!! <3
gif credit to owner!
it was unexpected to find such a kind soul as steven in a museum. you liked him already at first glance, and then even more at your first shared conversation. he was charming, and he was gorgeous, and ever so kind and polite, with more manners than all of england men have combined. it was hard for you to take the first step and ask him on a date, since you’d never done that before. men being as they are, always asked you out on their own.
but you could tell that it was harder for steven to do it, to get the courage to do it, than it was for you. he was nervous, but it was clear he wanted to say something, ask something, and you, being good at guessing, knew what it was. it was clear he was attracted to you, and you’d have to be blind or an alien to not be attracted to him. so you took the first step, even though it was terrifying. mostly because you feared rejection, and that everything you’d assumed about him was completely wrong.
“would you want to grab dinner sometime?” you’d asked in a quieter voice, stepping closer to the cash register he was behind in his gift shop. the conversation was pretty private and not meant for other customers or staff to hear.
steven’s face and mind had completely blanked at that offer, because it was exactly what he’d wanted. and so, as he tried to find something to say in return, his lips parting and closing all the time in his confusion and flabberghasted state, you waited for the answer with a smile on your lips, realizing all that you’d thought about his intentions was actually true. “sure, yes! absolutely,” steven finally said and made a nervous laugh. he looked into your beautiful eyes and waited for you to say something more. or was it his turn again? perhaps a suggestion of where to go? “i’m… free whichever day after seven pm.” he offered.
and so on the evening of the following day, you are now sitting in a small, cute restaurant with prices, admittedly, a little outside your budget, across from steven. the date you both had so hoped for, thought it dream-material as you are, each other, unbelievably attractive and totally out of each other’s league, is happening, and you’re both happy and excited for whatever it may bring.
“look, a black cat!” you suddenly point out at seeing the small, dark figure moving across the street. steven’s head whips in the direction of it, and he nods. “oh, no, now that’s bad luck.”
he tilts his head slightly to the side, mouth half-full of the side-bread for his salad. while it’s usually seen as an impolite gesture—stuffing your mouth full and even talking with it that way—you do it, too, and so you find the gesture quite normal and even endearing, when it comes to steven. “it’s… actually not,” he corrects you, “that’s just bogus belief.”
“really?” you ask, surprised as you’ve found every other person in your life saying the exact opposite. you poke around at your food. “does it have any meaning at all, then—seeing a black cat cross the street?” you inquire.
steven shrugs. “well, not really,” he says, “it’s just a cat of a certain colour crossing a street. did you know that, actually cats were pretty special in ancient egypt?”
your interest is picked even more. “yeah, i’ve heard that here and there.” you say, nodding. steven makes a smile at himself, knowing that he can talk more about it, since you’re clearly interested.
“well, the egyptians actually believed that cats were magical creatures,” he begins, “they protected the pharaoh from poisonous snakes, and so they were treasured in egyptian households, always. they even put, um,” steven makes a chuckle, “they even put jewellery on them and treated them like gods, or at least, like the masters of the house.” you nod, eager to hear more. especially when steven talks about the topic in such a passionate way. “many deities had cat heads, there were so many cat sculptures and, of course, the sphynx – a cat figure with a human head that gives you riddles, because it is the cleverest creature in the world.” steven says kind of matter-of-factly, to which you chuckle. “the first ever diety with a cat head was mafdet. she was the protector of the pharaoh’s chambers against poisonous snakes and such, evil over-all. but bastet is much more fascinating to me. of course, they’re all fascinating, but bastet…” steven talks about the goddess bastet, and you listen to him intently.
and you watch him, too, as he talks, you notice the way his eyes shine in their beautiful brown colour. they even gain a warmer undertone when steven makes a smile or a short laugh—an interesting feature. and it’s clear, that with everything that he says, that he knows much more than he tells you. and all the egyptian mythology he does talk about is already huge, so inclusive and just shows how knowledgeable he is about ancient egypt.
you admire him without a second doubt. he knows so much about that time, about the history and culture, and all the jokes, too. and it’s clear that it’s something he loves very much, and loves every opportunity to talk about it. you’re also sure that you’ll melt away any second as you look at him. your food has undoubtedly gone cold, but you’ve forgotten all about it as you watch this absolute beaming sunshine of a person, your cheek rested in the palm of your hand as you’ve leaned forwards and to the side a bit all the while you’re still listening to him and trying to remember everything that he says.
you don’t even notice that he’s stopped talking, and is now giving you awkward glances, perhaps signalling that you should look away. but you don’t, you keep looking at him with complete mesmerisation in your eyes. oh, steven, you’ve done it again. he can’t see what’s in your eyes, he doesn’t see the adoration, and so he thinks you’re about to fall asleep any minute now, and that he’s bored you with his rambles. “sorry for rambling,” he tells you, “it must be annoying. i should let you talk, too.”
that brings you out of your trance immediately. perhaps not completely, but half-way, at least. enough to assure him he’s thought wrong, and perhaps you shouldn’t have looked at him like that. but you couldn’t help it. “it’s not annoying at all, no,” you tell him, “and you’re not rambling.” your hand inches closer to his on your small, shared table. “you’re talking about something you’re really passionate about. and i love it.”
steven’s mind blanks again, and his eyebrows raise in slight surprise. really? she does? he blinks a couple times, and only then notices your hand so close to his own. there’s an urge to reach closer and envelop your delicate hand in his in a warm hold. would that be too much for a first date? “really? oh, well—” he makes another nervous chuckle, “thank you.” his shy eyes meet yours in fleeting glances as he once again feels nervous.
he’s so used to being told to shut up or people just not listening to him that this is a very pleasant surprise. one that nearly brings him to tears, but he’s too nervous and self-conscious to admit that. even to himself. he blinks his beautiful brown eyes a couple more times, and then feels a hand coming over his own. a comforting hand. it sparks the feeling of safety into him.
“you’re kind of the first person to ever say that to me,” steven admits and looks to your intertwined hands. you frown.
“that’s awfully disappointing,” you say, caressing your thumb over his palm, “who wouldn’t love to hear you talk about ancient egypt? it seems you know everything about it! that’s incredible.” a smile adorns your features, and steven can’t deny its contagiousness, smiling himself now, too. his cheeks blush with a pink tint that looks beautiful on his warm olive skin. you can’t believe the man you’re having a date with. he’s just too good to be true. “tell me more,” you whisper, “tell me about the pharaohs and their lives.”
“oh, uh… hasn’t your food gone cold?” he asks, suddenly feeling too on-the-spot to continue talking about his interests in such an out-there manner. after you’ve complimented him, and said such nice things about him, he feels ever so flustered.
“it’s fine, they can heat it up,” you say and lean closer on the table again, your hand still on steven’s, as you wait in anticipation for more egypt stories. steven’s a little taken aback – you’re willing to let your food go cold to listen to his ramblings. what an unbelievable occurrence!
“alright. well… their lives were mostly filled with royal duties, and so many plottings and betrayals that, i think,” steven begins as he makes himself more comfortable in the chair across you. those adoring eyes return to your face as you still watch him, “their deaths and after-lives were much more interesting…”
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an evening toast
steven grant x gn!reader
author’s note: hello! something on steven i’ve yearned to write for a while now, very much based on me myself and i and my work experience and all that. took me around 40 minutes, and i love this little piece. happy reading :)
word count: idk, round 1k??
warnings:none!
a/n:my little scrunglo :( you mean the world to me
“oh, bugger!” you hear a distressed hiss as you come up the stairs to your apartment. the very last landing in the building, with only two flats on it, so it can be no one other than your cross-the-hall neighbour steven grant. gift-shopist, traveller, history buff, especially on ancient egypt. kind of the best neighbour there could be.
a tired smile, its specificity very well showcasing your current state of well-being, stretches your lips as you come up the very last stairs to the landing. steve is bending down in front of his door, his bag open and items nearly starting to spill from them, his cup of whatever beverage also tipping over in between his arm and side… he looks a sad, tired sight. just like you.
“good god above…” steven mutters in exhasperation just before you come over. his keys have fallen to the floor, and he’s picked them up, but now his phone’s fallen out of his hold, too. and his wallet. steven shakes his head just as you lean against his door frame and come into his line of sight. usually that kind of sudden appearance would startle the man, properly scare him, but perhaps because he’s just tired, he only makes a slight jump and doesn’t scream like usual. you like that about steven. his raw emotions, “oh! hello there.” he says and gives you a tiny wave with his nearly-free hand before he bends down to get his phone and wallet from the floor. “almost gave me a scare.” he makes a nervous chuckle, fumbling with his things.
you smile again, your eyes nearly closing. “hi, steven,” you tell him in return and then offer your hand to him, nearing it to his keys. he gives you a glance of obliviousness, “need a hand?” you offer, looking down to the keys in question. and steven already starts to shake his head, his natural politeness and humble habits taking hold.
“oh, no, it’s nothing—“
“gimme here,” you simply say and take the keys from his hold. you note how hot his hands are on the brief moment you’re touching them, but then turn the cold keys to the apartment door at once, “i know a bad day and a stressed person when i see one, yeah? don’t pretend you’re fine,” like every time i ask you a question, you say. you grin to yourself slightly as steven adjusts his bag and realises it’s still open and his stuff might have been spilling out any next second if he hadn’t noticed. you unlock the door and push it open to reveal the dark, moony roof flat of steven grant.
you’ve seen it before, and have been a visitor also, and yet the flat is the coolest one you’ve seen. you wish you had that mansard ceiling, but your flat doesn’t have that luxury. you’ve loved mansard ceilings since you’ve been little, and have always wanted one. thought an attic flat might just come with that sort by default, but turned out that assumption was wrong. yet you took the flat across steven, anyway, because it’s not expensive and exactly what you need.
you step inside first and wait for steven to follow. he does so hesitantly, ever the nervous gentleman. you adore that about him, and have the chance to smile to yourself about it as you close the door with your back to steven. you turn around and see steven putting all his stuff into place. “you can tell me about it over a cuppa, alright?” you call to him, your own bag and jacket still on your shoulders, as you venture into his open kitchen.
his eyes widen. “oh, i can make us both some tea, don’t worry about it—“ he begins to say as he makes his way over to you, but the sure yet soft glance you give him, the kettle already in hand, is an answer enough.
“just sit down, steven,” you tell him, having learned how to approach his mannerisms, “it’s no bother.” just let me do something actually useful, you think to yourself but don’t say out loud. steven nods, gives you a gentle and nervous smile, and takes a seat in his own sofa near-by.
few minutes later, two cups of green tea in your hands, you make your way over to the couch and the very tired and still nervous steven. it’s a little sad, really, you often worry if there are times steven spends not feeling anxious about anything in the world. you certainly hope there are. you hand him his cup, knowing he likes sugar and having added a teaspoon of it into the cup, and steven takes it gladly, with an honestly thankful smile on his face. he sits with his back against the backrest while you slouch down at the other end of the sofa with your back on the armrest, your legs lazily and without attention stretched before you. nearly touching steven’s legs, but you don’t want to make him more nervous.
“so. bad day,” you state to him after you’ve both had a sip. steven gives you a hesitant glance, one that says you’ve cracked him, but nods, “you can talk to me about it all.” you assure him.
steven makes a sad smile. “thanks, that’s—that’s nice that you care and want to listen,” steven says, and the words break your heart. you’ve often wondered how it’s possible that he’s got no one else in his life. he does contact his mum, but you don’t know if the contact is one-sided or not. she does send him postcards, so there must be some response, “it’s just the usual, really,” steven says with his head half-turned to you. again, that attitude of not wanting to burden you with his problems, not wanting to make them seem like a big deal. you tilt your head in a way that lets steven know what you’re thinking, “not to say it’s good that it’s usual. that’s even worse,” he chuckles nervously again, “my manager, my boss—donna, she’s always the same, really.” steven shrugs. “calling me stevie instead of my name, scolding me for being late—which i always apologise for and don’t mean to be on purpose,” steven raises his eyebrows for convincing effect, “and today she called me useless when i corrected her for the hundredth time.” he sighs deeply.
you frown and lean over your legs to get a little closer to him, “that’s very rude of her,” you tell him, “and that’s an understatement. that’s actually… emotional violence, you know.” steven gives you a look as he’s turned his head to you now. “i hope you don’t believe her, at least, steven.”
he looks away. he does believe her. “well… i don’t know, y/n, what use am i working in a gift shop and selling jelly candies that have nothing to do with ancient egypt or its mythology?” he shrugs. “it’s not like they invented jellies.” he says, and his eyes stare emptily ahead of him. you make a smile.
“well, you’d know, wouldn’t you?” you grin wider as you reach a hand over the backrest of the sofa. steven looks at you again. “you know everything about ancient egypt there is to know. it’s sad she’s got you working in the gift shop when you should be a tour guide or—or a lecturer or something,” you shrug.
steven makes a snort, turning away again, “yeah, well, on that offer she threatened to stuff me into a sarcophagus,” he admits and takes a sip of his tea. in return, you nearly spit yours out.
“she what?” you ask in shock, and steven turns his head to you to look at you and nod his head. “steven, that’s wrong on so many levels. i realise why you won’t quit, you love the museum, but you desperately need a new boss.” you tell him and drink your tea calmer. steven nods.
“you could come and take her place,” he suggests, and makes a cheeky smile at you. you laugh, and steven loves to see that sight. it’s like medicine, like remedy, for the day he’s had.
“i would love to, if i knew anything about museum management,” you say and make a sigh, but giggle afterwards. steven working for you would be quite the adventure.
“i see you’re tired, as well,” steven tells you, and your head is raised immediately by that observation. you look into his eyes—kind, well-meaning, caring, and so serious, too. but there is still a smile in both his eyes and on his lips, “any terrible costumer stories from today?” he asks.
you smile. steven knows where you work, just as you know where he works. “not really,” you shake your head, “it’s my boss, too.” a sigh leaves your lips again. “stressed me out to the point of a panic attack today.” it’s like you can taste the hot tears in your mouth still. “you know, she’s all fun and we even have a few laughs when we’re both at work, face to face, yeah,” you begin to explain, still feeling steven’s caring eyes on your form as you stare into your green tea, “but on the mobile she’s so sharp and rude all of a sudden, like she’s had a complete personality change…” you shake your head, still in disbelief as you recall the texts she sent you, “she acts on her assumptions rather than expanding her mind, maybe, and asking me for the truth. and today, she kept at me about a product i hadn’t thrown out, she just kept at it like her life depended on it.”
steven’s lips turn into a slight frown, too, “i’m sorry,” he says, “she must really have it in for you.”
you nod. “i guess,” you say, “though i haven’t given her any reason to dislike me, i think. i should like to say that i’m a good worker.” you say and look at steven, your eyes nearly tearful. especially when you see the supportive smile on his face.
“you are, y/n,” he tells you, “you may not like the environment you work in, but you do everything in your job description.” he says. “i should know.” steven sends you a playful wink and makes an airy chuckle afterwards. he’s feeling pretty nervous about doing that gesture suddenly. you smile.
“yeah, you do know,” you say, knowing that he’s talking about the times he’s waited up for you at the end of your night shifts to walk you home. just for safety. and your company, too, maybe, “well, i don’t know. i do do everything, but i still feel so under-appreciated by her… and also today, she sends me, like, all the pieces of clothing i should usually have on at work, and says if one thing is missing, she’ll take it off my work hours.” you breathe deeply, and steven gasps, his face shocked. “yeah! mental, innit? and then i tell her i don’t feel comfortable in the work shirts we’ve been assigned cause they’re much too small for me or for anyone, really, and she tells me that i’m not working in a gucci store or anything and finishes the text with ‘no proper outfit = no employee’, which practically means she threatened to fire me if i didn’t have, i don’t know… black shoes instead of white ones.”
“god! the nerve of her,” steven says and shakes his head.
“i know!” you respond, your voice starting to get shaky again. “the thing is, she didn’t have a problem with how i dressed—which is always formally and in the required colours, minus the assigned shirt—for, like, half a year until now. now she’s suddenly got a problem with it.” you shake your head. steven nods, understanding the unfairness. you feel nervous, having talked about your problems so vastly while steven only said a few words about his. “i don’t know who’s worse—your boss or mine.”
steven makes a smile, and then looks at you again. straight in the eyes, and you appreciate the contact. “we’ll not be comparing them,” he tells you with a shake of his head, “they’re both bad, and shouldn’t be managers at all.”
“precisely,” you agree. and steven gets an idea from the way you lift your half-empty cup of tea in the air. he stifles a laugh and only makes a grin that reaches his very ears. he brings his cup of tea in front of him, between the two of you, and looks at you. you wonder what he’s got under his skin.
“to very bad, bully managers,” he says as he lifts the cup of tea up in the air, still smiling nearly insanely, like a mad scientist, and you laugh. it’s good that steven laughs with you, or he might have thought you were laughing at him. you raise your cup of tea, too, crossing your forearm with steven’s.
“to very bad, bully managers,” you repeat and you both drink your tea mugs empty, your arms encircled with each other. you put your empty one on the coffee table and pull your legs closer to yourself and then you look at steven, “i feel like that should have been something a lot stronger,” you admit, referencing many toasts made in movies and tv shows.
steven laughs. “agreed, but, unfortunately, i have work tomorrow,” he tells you and takes both your empty cups in his hands, walking over to the kitchen then. you watch after him, and tuck your chin nearly over your shoulder to continue doing it, “another?” steven raises the cup in the air, asking for a tea refill, and you nod with that tired smile of yours.
your managers may suck, but at the end of the day, you’ve both got each other. either across the hall, passing by or in your couch. the other is always there.
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