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maeve

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This is the first time that Steve has ever had the same girlfriend on Valentine's Day as the year before. He thought that maybe that would freak him out, but it doesn't. He's come to realize that he didn't jump from girl to girl because he was a player. Mostly, he just didn't want to get hurt.

But then he did, and he got over it. He moved on, and he found something better. Someone better. The someone who is over at the jukebox yelling in some dude's face. Steve gives her a smitten look as the guy stomps off, and then turns back to the bar to get them another round.

"There you are!" The high-pitched voice makes Steve pause, and he pastes on a smile as he turns to face the girl who has been following him around all night, despite him repeatedly telling her that he has a girlfriend. Usually, that's enough to make a girl back off, but not this one. She's been sort of relentless, and he's getting a little annoyed. "Finally, I've got you all to myself. Come dance with me!"

"Look, I'm flattered, but I can't," Steve tells her coolly, trying to be polite but not too polite, because apparently she can't take a hint. He lifts the hand holding his dwindling drink and uses it to gesture over his shoulder at Maeve, and then sets the glass down as he gestures for the bartender. "Like I said, I'm with someone."

While Steve is turned to place an order, he misses the woman turn her hand over the top of Steve's drink and pour a purple liquid from a small vial. By the time he turns back, she's smiling up at him again and holding up a drink of her own.

"Okay, okay. I get it," she tells him, shrugging as she holds her own drink up a little. "Here's a good night, I guess."

Steve lifts his glass to mirror her lazy toast and knocks back the rest of the liquor, frowning down at the empty glass before setting it on the bar. There was something sour about it and he smacks his lips, blinking a few times before suddenly feeling warm and calm, even as butterflies swarm in his belly. When he turns to look at the girl, his vision is a little glassy and he blinks a few times, feeling his expression smooth out as the girl puts a hand on his chest.

"Oh, wow," Steve says dreamily, and the young woman might think that the love potion she had bought a few blocks over has done the trick, but it hasn't. Steve is in love alright, but he already was so all he does is love Maeve even harder, even if he's a little too fuzzy to say it in the moment.

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"Uh... wow, no," Maeve answers, patting Steve's chest once they're settled in the car. She sits close to him, because she's not annoyed or anything, something has clearly been done to him, but she's also really not even close to being ready to switch flats so she and Steve can live together.

"That's a conversation we're definitely not having while you've been drugged," she tells him, leaning against his side. It's not a conversation she imagined they would be having any time soon at all and she's sort of hoping Steve won't be inclined to go down that road once the drugs or whatever wear off.

"Fiiine," Steve replies, because with whatever's been done to him, he can tell that she's probably right. When she leans against him, Steve shifts to wrap his arms around her, practically pulling her into his lap as he buries his face in her neck.

"You're so hot. I don't even understand it," he mumbles, squeezing at her hip as he presses a kiss just below her ear. "I want to put my face on your boobs. But in like, a respectful way."

"You guys good back there?" The driver asks, obviously amused and probably thinking Steve just had a few too many. "Young love, huh?"

"Excuse you!" Steve replies a little too loudly, popping his head up. "We're having a moment!"

"A someone put something in his drink moment," Maeve clarifies, feeling a little like Steve has suddenly grown two extra sets of hands, given that they're everywhere.

After a beat, she adds, "Not me."

Just in case. She would really rather not anyone think she'd been the one to drug him. The very thought of it makes her sick and even though nothing has happened and Steve is safe, there's still a pit of anxiety in her stomach, because there is every possibility he might not have been. If she had been late or if she'd gotten distracted, the chances are high the girl who had drugged him would have taken advantage of him and Maeve doesn't want anyone she cares about to feel violated in such a way.

When Steve cuddles up to Maeve again, it takes a few moments, but something cuts through the happy, fuzzy blanket of feelings that he has for her. She's tense and almost squirming, and Steve pulls back to look at her face, frowning when he sees her furrowed brows and little pout.

"Hey, I'm okay," he assures her, reaching up to cup her cheek. He may not really understand the gravity of what happened just yet, but he doesn't want her to be upset or worry about him. "You saved me. I'm gonna be fine, babe."

As the car pulls up to the curb in front of his apartment building, Steve gently kisses one downturned brow and then the other, nudging their noses together as he reaches for the door. "Let's just go inside, huh? I want it to be just you and me."

Steve looks up and catches the driver's eyes in the rearview mirror. "No offense."

He may think it's fine and she supposes it is, since he's here and he's safe, but Maeve isn't quite so ready to just let it go. Already, she's thinking if there are ways to track down the girl from the bar, take her information to Vimes, if not an actual police station. People shouldn't be allowed to just go around Darrow putting things into drinks; it's dangerous and it's illegal.

"Thank you," she says to the driver as they exit the vehicle. She takes Steve's hand, leading him toward the building, then waits for him to unlock the door.

"I know you're fine," she says after they're inside, waiting for the elevator. "But it's still incredibly fucked up that someone would do this."

"Yeah, it is," Steve agrees, twisting to lean back against the wall as they wait for the elevator. He feels a little better now that he's had some air and he's under the bright lights of the lobby, even if still a little hazy.

"All I wanted was you," he says after a moment, smiling a little at her. "Even with a-- a love potion, or whatever, and with her pawing at me. I just wanted you."

That means a lot, he thinks. Steve may have been kind of a player in high school but he wasn't one to outright cheat, so it isn't as if he's easily tempted. "That's sort of sweet, I think. In a weird way."

She seems upset, and even though Steve knows she isn't mad at him, he still feels a little bad for ruining their date. When the elevator doors slide open, Steve twists around and walks inside, turning to lean against the back wall and tip his head back.

At that, she smiles faintly, a twist of her lips before she shakes her head. "You shouldn't be able to turn getting drugged into something romantic," she tells him. "That's very annoying."

It isn't at all annoying and her voice says as much.

"I'm glad you're okay," she says to him, stepping closer and resting her hands against his stomach as the elevator climbs. "I'm also glad you didn't want to hook up with the girl who drugged you, because I'm pretty sure the pitch of her voice could summon dogs."

"What can I say? I have a gift," Steve says with a laugh, smiling fondly down at Maeve as he rests his hands on her hips. Already, the drugs seem to be wearing off. He still feels a little dopey, a little dazed, maybe a bit turned on, but those are all things that he generally feels when he's around Maeve anyway, so it's hard to tell.

"Oh, Steve!" He says in a high-pitched voice, tickling playfully at Maeve's sides. "You're so sexy, Steve!"

He's still tickling her, leaning in to kiss at her neck, when the elevator doors slide open and Steve is faced with an unimpressed looking older couple. Doing his best not to laugh, he puts his arm around Maeve's shoulders and leads her out of the elevator and past them, giving them a lazy salute. "Evening, folks."

They step onto the elevator Steve waits for the doors to close, face carefully blank, and as soon as they're alone again, he brings his tickling fingers back to her waist, lips close to her ear. "Oh, Steve!

"Oh my god," Maeve answers, rolling her eyes as she tries to twist away from his fingers, even before the doors open to reveal the couple looking at them, their expressions stern. She's used to pissing off boring old people, though, and she has to press her lips together to stop her smile as they step off.

"Oh, Steve, you're gonna get smacked," she warns, still mostly teasing when he starts to tickle her again. "It's only because you've been drugged that the threat isn't worse."

She catches one of his hands and then pretends to wring his finger before she threads their fingers together. "Come on," she says.

"Ooh, foreplay," he jokes, but he stops the tickling and holds her hand instead, following after her as he gets his keys out of his pocket. After letting them into the apartment, Steve calls out for Robin and gets no response, so he does a lazy sort of fist pump and tosses his keys onto the table. Not that he doesn't want to see Robin, but it's a relief to have the apartment to themselves for the night.

"I'm pretty sure whatever it was wore off," he assures her as he kicks off his shoes and locks the door, tugging off his jacket as he walks towards the kitchen. "Man, she really did get ripped off."

Steve goes into the kitchen to grab himself a sports drink and Maeve a bottle of water from the fridge, holding them both in one hand as he runs the other through his hair on his way to the sofa, gesturing for Maeve to follow him. "I think I'm gonna make it, babe."

"So I don't need to go kick someone's arse tonight," she says with a small, tight smile as she sinks onto the couch beside Steve, one leg tucked under her body. She's still going to tell Vimes, because she thinks it's pretty fucked up that people can just go around trying to drug people or dose them with love potions or whatever the hell had happened. He might not be able to do much, but it'll make her feel better.

"I'll save it for tomorrow," she jokes as she takes the bottle of water from Steve and twists off the cap so she can have a swallow. The threat is mostly empty. Mostly. "What's with everyone and this complete lack of consent being something they're okay with? That's so messed up. There's nothing real in drugging someone into liking you."

"I'm not okay with it," he tells her, brow furrowed a bit as he turns to face her on the sofa, pulling one leg up onto it. "I just-- I don't know. Some people just suck, and I didn't want it to ruin our night."

Steve screws his sports drink shut and sets it on the table before leaning back against the sofa, pressing his palms to his eyes. He feels tired and kind of fucking dumb for not realizing what was going on, or being more careful. He isn't victim blaming himself, or whatever. It just sucks.

"I really wanted it to be a good night," he says as he drops his hands and rolls his head to the side to look at her, corners of his mouth quirking up briefly before he looks away.

"Not you, dummy," Maeve says, kicking his thigh with the top of her foot. It's barely a kick at all, more a nudge than anything. "I meant her. She's fucked up."

She smiles at him and sets her bottle of water on the table before she shifts on the couch, moving so she can straddle Steve's lap. Draping her arms over his shoulders, she tilts her head and looks at him, smirking a little.

"It is a good night," she teases. "Because you told me I could put my fingers in your arse." She doesn't really expect him to go through with it right now, not after she'd asked while he was drugged, but it's still something she has to give him a bit of shit about.

When Maeve climbs into his lap, Steve is grateful for numerous reasons, but especially because it means that the night isn’t ruined, and she isn’t upset, and he might still get laid.

He puts his hands on her thighs and slides them slowly up at down as he watches her, and then quirks a brow as she brings up putting her fingers in him again. She doesn’t say it like she’s actually expecting it, but she’s mentioned it more than once. She must want to try it.

Not long ago, Steve would have balked at it, maybe even found it weird. He probably would have said no, but he’s a different person now. He has plenty of gay friends, and they seem happy with their sex lives, so it must feel good to have something up their ass.

That, and he trusts Maeve. She’s probably the only one that he would trust with something like that. She’ll stop if he doesn’t like it. Also, he’d very much like to do the same thing to her someday, and fair’s fair.

“Okay, let’s give it a shot,” he says after a few moments of thought, smiling crookedly up at her as his hands go to her hips. “I took a very thorough date night shower before we went out, so I’m game to try.”

"I suggested it because I thought you were high and being an idiot," she admits, but then she pulls her lower lip between her teeth as she studies him thoughtfully. "But I've heard it feels really good for men."

It's not something she has a lot of experience with, or any at all, because despite what everyone liked to say about her, Maeve's experience with boys had been extremely limited. Jackson had been her first. Her only, up until Steve. She's not embarrassed by that, she just knows she's no expert. At least not in practice.

"Only if you actually want to," she tells him. "Honestly."

Steve raises an eyebrow, because she may have been joking but he knows her well enough to know that there was truth to it. This is something that she wants to try, and Steve wants to give that to her. A part of him is eager to have something that they’ve never done with anyone else, something that’s only theirs.

“Honestly,” he echoes, smiling a little as he reaches up to tuck a stray piece of hair behind her ear. The more that he thinks about it, the more excited he gets. It’s a selfless act on her part, really. She’ll get to satisfy her curiosity, sure, but it’s not like putting her fingers inside of him will make her feel good.

“I want to try,” he says sincerely, nodding as he pulls her in for a soft kiss, eyes closed as he rests his forehead against hers. “I’ll tell you if I’m not enjoying myself, but I trust you. If you say it’ll feel good, it probably will.”

When they'd met, Maeve hadn't exactly looked at Steve and pegged him as a guy who would be good at communicating. He'd seemed like most other good looking, popular jock-types, like Jackson, and while Jackson had been sweet, his ability to properly communicate his feelings hadn't exactly been terribly impressive.

Steve, though, has surprised her. And he keeps surprising her. And she knows he'll do what he says, that he'll tell her if things aren't working for him for whatever reason. She knows, too, that he knows her well enough to feel confident she'll listen.

"Come on, then," she says, pressing another kiss against Steve's mouth before she stands and takes his hands to pull him up after her.

If Steve is any good at communicating, it's only because he's learned from his many mistakes. He was a bad boyfriend over and over again and he doesn't want to be that anymore. He wants to be better, and Maeve makes it almost easy.

As he follows Maeve down the hallway, he feels a small flutter of nerves, but if he's honest, also a little thrilled by the idea. It's something new, something exotic, and it thrills him like doing something for the first time always does. Even if he doesn't end up liking it, he'll still have tried it, and that's awesome.

Once they're in the bedroom, Steve shuts the door with one hand and runs the other through his hair, charmingly awkward as he looks from the bed to her face. "So, uh, how do we do this?" He rolls his eyes at himself and then moves a little closer to her. "I mean, I know how, but, uh-- is it lame that I'm nervous?"

"No," Maeve answers. "It isn't lame."

As for the rest, she'll be communicative, she'll ask questions, and make sure she doesn't do anything without Steve saying it's okay. But first, she really just wants to kiss him.

"Don't think so much yet," she tells him. "We have time."

Then she rises onto her toes and slips her arms around his neck so she can pull him down into a kiss, her lips parting beneath his.

"No thinking? That's right in my lane, baby," he jokes, because of said nerves, but it's easy to forget about them when Maeve is suddenly there in his space, warm and reassuring. She pulls him in and Steve goes willingly, ducking his head to meet hers.

It's a slow burn kind of kiss, unhurried and languid, and Steve hums a little as her mouth opens in invitation, deepening the kiss as his arms go around her slim waist. It does serve as a very good distraction, and Steve walks her back slowly toward the bed as his hand slips under her shirt, sliding up her back until he reaches her bra, unhooking it with one hand.

Steve tugs off his own shirt and sits on the edge of the bed, reaching out to grab her hips and urge him onto her lap so he can kiss her again. With one hand cradling the side of her face, he slides the other up her shirt again, covering one of her breasts and giving it a gentle squeeze through the lace.

They're not always this gentle with each other, this slow, but Maeve appreciates that they are some of the time. It's a nice thing, having this variety, having someone who's both willing to shove her down in the bed when they're both so horny they can't deal with it and someone who'll draw her slowly into his lap like Steve is now.

Maeve reaches down with one hand and pulls up her shirt, letting it fall to the floor once she shakes her hair loose from the collar. Then she has her hands back on Steve, palms running over the smooth expanse of his back, the broad muscles of his shoulders.

Another great thing about being with Maeve is that Steve doesn’t always have to take the lead when it comes to sex. It’s something that he always seemed to have to do before. The girls he was with took their cues from him for the most part, but Maeve is different.

Maeve has no problem changing the pace of things or moving Steve where she wants him. Sometimes it’s more subtle than others, like it is right now. Her hands glide along his body and it’s like she’s wiping the nerves away, leaving him feeling relaxed and aroused, but without any sense of urgency.

Steve ducks his head to kiss her chest, lips trailing over the swell of one breast as he cups it in his hand, flicking his tongue over her stiff nipple. After giving it a soft, playful sort of bite, he lifts his hand to her cheek to draw her in for another kiss.

His other hand goes to the small of her back and he slowly rolls back onto the bed, drawing her down on top of him, her chest pressing against his. The kiss draws on and on and Steve licks into her mouth, sliding one hand down the back of her pants to squeeze her ass through her seemingly ever-present tights.

“If I didn’t know better,” he murmurs fondly, tone breathless as he kisses the corner of her mouth. “I’d say you wear these just to torture me.”

"Good thing you know better," Maeve answers with a grin. Her own voice is a little breathless, but she shoots Steve a smile that's both playful and a touch serious. Even though she knows she doesn't always succeed, Maeve does her best not to do anything for anyone except herself. She never wants to be the sort of person who dresses a certain way because she knows it would make someone react in a certain way.

It's still nice that he does, honestly, but she dresses how she does for herself.

She sits up in his lap, her palms pressed to his chest as she rolls her hips against him. She knows he'll like that and she does, too, stifling a moan between her lips as she bites the lower one gently.

“I do,” Steve replies with a hint of seriousness, and no small amount of adoration. He spent so long trying to fit himself into a mold, to be who he was expected to be, and it was exhausting. He loves that Maeve is so unapologetically herself. It’s something he respects, and if he’s honest, it makes him feel good, too.

Maeve does what Maeve wants to do, and she wants to be with him. How incredible is that?

When Maeve sits up, Steve’s hands go to her thighs, squeezing as she positions herself just right on his lap and rocks her hips, pressing her cunt down against the bulge of his cock through far too many layers of fabric.

Steve grunts and rocks up to meet her the next time, staring up at her face, the spill of her dark hair, the pale freckles on her shoulders that he only knows are there because he’s gotten close enough to see them.

His gaze dips to her her breasts, full and round with perfect pink nipples that are just begging to be kissed. One hand slides up her side, twisting to cup one of her breasts. They rock together again as he catches her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, tugging playfully before giving it a hard pinch because he knows it’ll turn her on even more.

“I am so fucking lucky,” he breathes out, sounding awed by the sight of her. Whatever drug he was given has long worn off but he still feels dumbstruck, head over heels in love. That’s just because of her. “You’re so beautiful.”

"Are you sure you're not still feeling the drugs?" she asks with a grin, her voice breathless even as she rocks against Steve again. She can feel his cock trapped beneath her body, the heat of him, how hard he is, even though the layers of their clothes.

Even after all this time, even though Maeve loves him and she knows it, it's still kind of difficult to accept compliments like the ones Steve gives her. She knows he means it, it isn't that she doubts him, but that she's still not sure about it herself.

Not that it matters now. It doesn't, not at all, and she grabs Steve's hand and pushes it down to the bed over his head, then leans down, still grinning. "I think I'm in charge tonight," she teases before she kisses him, then bites at his lower lip, dragging it down slightly before her hands slide down between them to undo Steve's jeans.