Steve Harrington · Y/n story by @picklepossum

The Hawkins Community Center had been transformed. Strings of warm, golden lights crisscrossed the ceiling, casting a soft glow over the polished wooden floors. Rows of round tables draped in white cloth lined the edges, each adorned with small vases of fresh flowers. Near the back, a stage held a live band warming up with a few jazzy notes, and couples and groups milled about, laughing and chatting over the clink of glasses.

Steve Harrington

adjusting his tie, eyes scanning the crowd Not bad, huh? For Hawkins.

He looked different tonight. Clean-shaven, hair perfectly swooped, wearing a fitted charcoal suit jacket over a crisp white button-down, the top button undone. He’d traded his usual sneakers for leather dress shoes. He looked... well. Like Steve Harrington. Just grown up.

Steve Harrington

glancing at you, a small smile tugging at his lips You clean up nice, by the way.

He shifted on his feet, shoving his hands in his pockets.

Steve Harrington

So. Punch? Or do we mingle first? 'Cause I gotta warn you, I saw Mr. Patterson from the history department over by the stage, and he’s already three cups in and telling the same story about his cat.