December 15, 1984

Dove sat hunched over her desk, surrounded by towering stacks of law books and scattered notes. The small lamp on her desk cast a focused glow, the only light in the room, as she poured over her revisions of the NDA. Her fingers tightened around her pen, frustration bubbling under the surface. One week left until Bennett's deadline, and it still felt like she was wading through quicksand.

A soft knock at her door broke her concentration. Startled, she quickly scrambled to gather the papers, flipping a notebook over the legal document she had been working on.

"Come in," she called, trying to sound casual as she adjusted in her chair.

The door creaked open, and Steve stepped in, his smile easy and familiar. In one hand, he held a small, brightly colored bouquet of flowers, and in the other, a brown paper bag.

"Hey," he said, leaning against the doorframe. "Hard at work, huh?"

Dove blinked, momentarily caught off guard before softening at the sight of him. "Steve?" She glanced over at the clock on her nightstand. "You're here early."

Steve smirked, stepping into the room and holding up the flowers. "What, am I not allowed to come hang out with my girlfriend?" The word rolled off his tongue with ease, but there was a subtle glimmer of pride in his eyes.

Dove's heart gave a small, unexpected flutter at the word—still new, still slightly surreal. It had only been a week since Steve had asked her to make it official. She stood up, a faint smile tugging at her lips as she moved toward him. "I didn't say that," she replied, reaching for the flowers in his hand.

Steve handed them over, leaning in to press a light kiss to her cheek as he did. "Good, because I'm here now, and I'm staying." He stepped further into the room, his gaze drifting toward the cluttered desk. His brow furrowed slightly as he spotted the stack of books and scattered papers. "What's all this? Big homework assignment?"

Before Dove could answer, Steve reached out and picked up one of the books on top of the pile. His eyes scanned the title, "Federal Laws on Classified Information and Non-Disclosure Agreements?" He blinked, then looked at her with concern. "You still thinking about that creepy doctor lady?"

Dove's breath caught as her mind scrambled for a response, but before she could say anything, Steve set the book down gently on the desk and walked toward her. He placed a comforting hand on her arms, his touch warm and steady. "Hey," he said softly, his eyes searching hers. "Don't worry about her, okay? It's been over a month since that day in the station, and we haven't heard a peep. You scared her off, Dove."

Dove forced a small smile, though her chest tightened with guilt. She glanced toward the desk, then back at Steve. "I'm not so sure about that," she murmured.

Steve tilted his head, his expression softening as he gently lifted her chin up to meet his gaze. "I am," he said confidently, a small grin tugging at his lips. "And you know why?"

She raised an eyebrow, silently asking him to elaborate.

"Because you're amazing," he said, the word laced with admiration. Then, before she could argue or deflect, he leaned in and kissed her, the warmth of the moment chasing away the shadows lingering in her mind.

The soft creak of a door opening snapped them out of the moment.

"Seriously?" Dustin's voice cut through the room like a bucket of cold water. "If you're gonna do that, at least close the door. Some of us don't need to see this."

Steve pulled back, glancing over at Dustin with a sheepish grin. "Hey, buddy."

Dustin crossed his arms, looking unimpressed. "Buddy? I'm your buddy now? You're making out with my sister in the middle of my house."

Dove rolled her eyes, turning to her brother. "Relax, Dustin. It's not like we—"

"—like you didn't know I was here?" Dustin interrupted, pointing dramatically toward his room. "You two are gross."

Steve, unfazed, held up the brown paper bag with a grin. "Hey, before you file a formal complaint, I brought you something for your big night."

Dustin's curiosity immediately flared. "What is it?" he asked, reaching for the bag but clearly on guard.

Steve handed it over with a confident smirk. Dustin opened it, pulling out a can ofFarrahFawcett confusion was immediate. "Uh, thanks?"

Steve leaned casually against the doorframe, crossing his arms. "You're welcome," he replied smoothly, the grin never leaving his face.

Dustin squinted at him, holding the can like it might come with an instruction manual. "Wait, is this a joke?"

"Nope," Steve said, pushing off the doorframe and gesturing at the can. "That stuff is gold, kid. Trust me. Use it right, and you'll be fighting off the ladies."

Dove crossed her arms and shot Steve a look. "He's thirteen, Steve. He shouldn't even be worrying about girls."

Steve leaned against the doorframe, his smirk never faltering. "Come on, Dove. Everyone starts worrying about girls when they're thirteen. I mean, how old were you when you had your first boyfriend?"

Dove raised an eyebrow, a teasing glint in her eye. "How old was I last week?"

Steve blinked, his confident grin faltering for just a second as the realization hit him. But he recovered quickly, shifting his focus back to Dustin with a casual shrug. "Okay, that was a bad example. But really, it just proves my point—everyone worries about this stuff at your age."

Dustin raised an eyebrow, holding up the can of Farrah Fawcett hairspray like it was a sacred artifact. "So, this is going to make girls like me?"

Steve shook his head, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. "No, confidence makes girls like you. But the hair?" He pointed at the can for emphasis. "The hair definitely helps. Trust me, it's science."

Dustin grinned, clutching the hairspray like it was his secret weapon. "Alright," he said with mock seriousness, "Operation Lady Killer is a go." With that, he spun on his heel and retreated into his room, the door clicking shut behind him.

Steve turned back to Dove with a playful grin, leaning casually against the doorframe. "So, where were we?" he asked, his tone suggestive and his eyes sparkling with hope.

Dove smirked, fully aware of what he was angling for. "We were just about to go to the kitchen and find a vase for these flowers," she replied, holding up the bouquet with a teasing edge in her voice.

Steve nodded with an exaggerated seriousness. "Yeah, that's exactly what I was thinking," he said, unable to keep a straight face. Dove laughed, shaking her head as they walked out of her room and headed for the kitchen.

The warm, sweet smell of something baking filled the air as they entered, and Dove's mom looked up from the counter where she was working. A bowl of batter sat in front of her, and she was carefully pouring it into a greased pan.

"Hey, you two," she greeted with a smile, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. "Steve, nice to see you again."

"Nice to see you too, Mrs. Henderson," Steve replied with his trademark charm, offering her a polite nod.

Dove grabbed a vase from one of the cabinets and started filling it with water at the sink. Her mom glanced over at Steve, her expression softening. "Thanks again for taking Dustin to the dance tonight. It means a lot to him. He's been looking forward to it all week."

Dove placed the vase on the counter with a soft clink, arranging the flowers with care. Her mom smiled warmly, glancing between the two of them. "So," she asked casually, her tone light and teasing, "do you two have any special plans for tonight?"

"Not really," Dove replied, adjusting the flowers a bit more. "Just hanging out, maybe watching a movie while we wait for Dustin to be ready for pick-up."

Her mom nodded, her smile warm and approving. "Sounds nice. You two could order pizza or something if you want. Just let me know, and I'll make myself scarce." She paused, her tone turning playfully stern. "As long as my house stays standing, we're all good."

Dove smirked, adjusted the last stem in the vase. "Don't worry, Mom. No wild parties. Your cookies are safe." Dove stepped back to admire her handiwork. The bouquet was vibrant, the flowers standing tall and bright against the clear glass and water.

Her mom glanced over, a warm smile spreading across her face. "Those are beautiful. You've got good taste, Steve."

Steve grinned, leaning casually against the counter. "I aim to impress."

Dove shook her head with a playful scoff. "Don't let it go to your head, Harrington."

Her mom chuckled softly, wiping her hands on a dish towel. "Oh, let him have his moment. It's nice to see someone making the effort. Boys these days could take a lesson or two."

Dove rolled her eyes, her smirk softening as she glanced at Steve. "Yeah, yeah. He's a real catch."

Steve's grin widened. "You know, I think that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me."

"Don't get used to it." Dove said, though her gaze was pulled away when Dustin stepped into the kitchen.

She froze for a moment, her gaze sweeping over him. Dustin was dressed in a teal suit with a matching bow tie, his pants slightly too short but in a way that somehow made the ensemble endearing. His hair was styled into a wild mullet-like creation that bordered between impressive and hilarious, making it clear he had followed every ounce of Steve's advice to the letter.

Their mom gasped, clapping her hands together with delight. "Oh my gosh, Dusty! Look at you! You look so handsome."

Dustin grinned ear to ear, clearly eating up the attention, and held his arms out dramatically. "Thank you, thank you," he said with mock modesty before giving them a full spin. "I know, I know. I look amazing."

Their mom clapped her hands together, her face lighting up. "We need a picture. Hang on, I'll grab the camera!"

She disappeared into the other room, and Dustin immediately began practicing poses, adjusting his blazer and flashing his toothless grin. By the time their mom returned with the Polaroid, Dustin was already mid-pose, leaning on one knee with an exaggerated finger-gun gesture.

"Perfect!" their mom said, laughing as she snapped the photo. The camera whirred, and the Polaroid slid out. She waved it gently in the air, letting it develop.

"Alright, Steve, Dove—you're up! Get in the picture with him," their mom insisted.

Steve raised an eyebrow but grinned as Dove nudged him toward Dustin. "Come on," she said, taking his hand and pulling him into the frame.

Steve pulled both Dove and Dustin close—one arm wrapping snugly around Dove's waist, the other draped over Dustin's shoulder. Dustin grinned wide, but just as their mom snapped the photo, Steve slapped his hand over Dustin's face, completely covering it.

"Hey!" Dustin's muffled protest was drowned out by Dove's laugh, her head thrown back as she leaned into Steve.

Their mom chuckled as she shook the picture. "Alright, that one's going in the family album."

Dustin groaned dramatically, throwing his hands in the air. "Alright, we need to go! I'm already going to be late, and fashionably late only works when you're actually cool."

Dove smirked and grabbed his coat from the back of the chair, handing it to him as they all started toward the door. "Don't worry Dustinator, we'll get you there on time."

Dustin froze mid-step, spinning around to glare at her. "Don't. Call. Me. That."

Steve chuckled, holding the door open as Dustin stormed past him, muttering under his breath. But before Dove could follow, Steve stepped in front of her, blocking her path.

"No girls allowed," Steve said, grinning as he gently stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. "Can't have you messing up my pep talk."

Dove raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. "Oh, right, because you'resucha motivational speaker, Mr. 'We're on the bench.'"

Steve ignored her jab entirely, his grin widening as he leaned in and gave her a quick kiss. "I'll be right back," he murmured, his tone soft and teasing.

Behind them, Dustin groaned loudly. "Can you not?"

Steve chuckled, pulling back just enough to smirk at Dustin before turning back to Dove. "Pick out a movie while I'm gone, alright?"

Dove rolled her eyes but smiled. "Fine. Just don't corrupt my brother with your terrible dating advice."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Steve said as he slung an arm around Dustin's shoulders, steering him toward the car. "Let's go, Dustinator. Time to make some memories."

Dustin muttered something unintelligible about the nickname as Dove watched them leave, a small smile lingering on her face before she turned back inside to find a movie.

December 22, 1984

Eddie's van rattled to a stop outside The Hideout, its headlights casting a faint glow on the bar's weathered exterior. He squinted at the neon sign buzzing faintly above the door and then glanced over at Dove, his expression somewhere between concerned and skeptical.

"This is the place?" he asked, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. "Looks like a great spot for a murder."

Dove rolled her eyes, clutching the manila folder tighter. "It's fine, Eddie. Just wait in the car, okay? I won't be long."

Eddie leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms. "I don't like this, Princess. Dive bar meetings? Mysterious folders? Feels very.. cloak-and-dagger."

Dove offered him a small, reassuring smile as she opened the door. "It's nothing like that. Just stay put. I'll be back before you know it." She stepped out and shut the door before he could argue further, hearing his muttered protests fade as she walked toward the bar.

The inside of The Hideout was dimly lit, with a haze of cigarette smoke hanging in the air. A jukebox in the corner hummed faintly, but the place was otherwise quiet, save for the occasional clink of a glass or low murmur of conversation. Dove's eyes scanned the room until she spotted Dr. Bennett sitting at a small table in the back corner.

Bennett stuck out like a sore thumb amidst the rough-and-tumble crowd. Her professional business suit was immaculate, her posture upright and unyielding, as if she were sitting in a high-powered boardroom rather than a dingy bar. Her eyes met Dove's as soon as she stepped inside, and she gave a slight nod, motioning for Dove to join her.

Dove made her way to the table, her grip tightening on the folder as she sat down. Bennett's sharp gaze swept over her, and she gestured to the folder. "I trust that means you've come to your senses," Bennett said, her tone smooth but carrying an unmistakable edge. "I hope what's inside are signed papers."

Dove didn't respond immediately. Instead, she set the folder on the table with deliberate care, flipping it open to reveal the heavily annotated NDA. The margins were filled with neat but firm handwriting, questions, corrections, and even outright rejections of certain clauses. Alongside it were pages of Dove's own notes, complete with references to legal statutes and counterproposals.

Bennett's perfectly composed expression faltered for a fraction of a second, her eyes narrowing as she leaned forward to examine the papers. The tension between them hung in the air, as thick and heavy as the smoke curling lazily through the room.

Dr. Bennett's sharp eyes slowly skimmed over the pages, her lips pursed in thought as she turned them carefully. The faint flicker of a smile ghosted across her face, a rare crack in her otherwise professional demeanor. She set the last page down and clasped her hands together, her gaze flicking up to meet Dove's.

"This is impressive," Bennett admitted, her tone almost complimentary. "Have you ever considered a career in law?"

Dove's posture stiffened, her arms crossing over her chest as she leaned back slightly. "Do we have a deal or not?"

Bennett's expression remained unreadable as she studied Dove, her fingers tapping lightly against the edge of the table. After a moment, she exhaled, sitting back in her chair.

She motioned to the annotated NDA. "You've made your case. I'll have to discuss this with my superiors, but for now, consider the immediate concerns addressed. You'll hear from me soon."

Dove's jaw tightened. "That's not good enough. I want this finalized. No more looming threats, no more suits showing up at my house."

Bennett arched an eyebrow. "You're in no position to dictate terms, Miss Henderson."

Dove held her ground, her gaze unwavering. "Then why are we even here? If you wanted unconditional compliance, you wouldn't have bothered with this meeting."

Bennett's lips pressed into a thin line, the silence between them stretching as she considered Dove's words. Finally, she gave a slow nod. "Fine. I'll expedite the review." She extended a hand toward Dove. "You have my word, for what it's worth."

Dove hesitated, her hand hovering for a moment before finally clasping Dr. Bennett's in a firm shake. The tension lingered as their gazes locked, neither willing to give the other any more ground than necessary.

"I guess we'll see what it's worth," Dove said softly, her voice steady but cautious.

As she made her way toward the exit, something caught her eye—a familiar figure leaning casually against the bar. Eddie. He was chatting with the bartender, an older woman with dyed maroon hair and a cigarette tucked behind her ear. She was laughing at something he'd said, her warm, raspy chuckle cutting through the low hum of conversation.

Dove stopped in her tracks, her brows furrowing as her stomach twisted. For a moment, she debated whether to approach him or just drag him out by his jacket.

The bartender glanced up and caught Dove's eye, giving her a nod of acknowledgment. Eddie followed her gaze, his grin widening when he saw Dove. He held up a finger to signal he'd be done in a second, then turned back to finish whatever story he was telling.

Dove exhaled, a mix of irritation and reluctant amusement bubbling up. Crossing her arms, she walked over to the bar, stopping just behind Eddie. "What happened to waiting in the car?" she asked, her tone dry.

Eddie turned to her with a sheepish shrug, the bartender chuckling again as she stepped away to attend to another customer. "The van was cold," Eddie said, his voice light and unapologetic. "Besides, thought I'd get the vibe of the place. It's actually not that bad. Apparently, they do live music here sometimes. And get this—Bev," he gestured toward the bartender, "said Corroded Coffin could maybe play a set one night."

Dove blinked, caught off guard. "Really?" she asked, glancing toward the bartender, who gave her a quick nod from across the bar.

"Really," Eddie confirmed, looking more excited by the second. "She said they've been trying to draw a bigger crowd, and metal nights could be their ticket."

Dove shook her head with a small laugh, her irritation melting just a little. "You've been in here for, what, ten minutes, and you're already networking?"

Eddie smirked, shrugging theatrically. "What can I say? I'm a people person."

His gaze flicked over Dove's shoulder to the front door, where Dr. Bennett had just walked out, her professional silhouette disappearing into the night. "So," he started, leaning slightly closer with a teasing grin, "how'd your top-secret meeting go?"

Dove shrugged, keeping her expression casual. "Nothing exciting. She's a college recruiter."

Eddie raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. "A college recruiter? Meeting you here, at The Hideout?" He gestured vaguely around the bar. "Man, that school mustreallywant you to go somewhere else."

Dove shot him a pointed look. "Drop it, Munson."

Eddie held up his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. I'm just saying, if it's a cult or some secret society, blink twice."

Dove shook her head, muttering under her breath, "You watch too many movies."

Eddie grinned knowingly but didn't press further, instead turning his attention back to the bartender. Despite herself, Dove felt a flicker of relief at his willingness to let it go—for now at least.

December 31, 1984

The Harrington house was alive with music, laughter, and the steady hum of conversation as practically the entire school packed themselves into Steve's spacious living room, kitchen, and even the backyard patio. Lights strung across the yard blinked rhythmically in time with the bass-heavy music booming from the speakers. People spilled out of the sliding glass doors, red plastic cups in hand, while a few braved the cold to huddle around the fire pit.

Inside, the scene was even more chaotic. The kitchen counter was lined with snacks, soda, and a makeshift bar that Billy and his crew had commandeered. Groups of students danced in the living room, their movements a mix of carefree and clumsy, while others crowded around the couches, shouting over a game of cards. The smell of pizza, cheap cologne, and faint cigarette smoke hung in the air.

Steve, standing near the stairs with his signature confident grin, played host like a natural. Every few minutes, someone stopped to shake his hand or slap him on the back, and he returned each greeting with an easy charm. Despite his outward demeanor, his eyes occasionally flicked toward the front door, scanning the crowd with barely concealed anticipation.

"Steve!" Carol's sharp voice cut through the noise, pulling his attention as she wove through the crowd with Tommy in tow. The pair had drinks in hand and matching smirks plastered across their faces.

"Harrington," Tommy greeted with a mock toast, taking a long sip from his cup before gesturing lazily around the room. "Big turnout tonight. You're still the king."

Steve chuckled lightly, his grin tightening. "Yeah, well, what can I say? People love free alcohol."

Carol tilted her head, her smirk sharpening as her eyes narrowed on him. "Speaking of love, how's the new girlfriend?" she asked, her tone dripping with faux curiosity. "Dove, right? Real.. brainy, isn't she?"

"Yeah," Tommy chimed in, his laugh loud and obnoxious. "First Nancy, now Dove? What is it with you and the nerds, man? You trying to boost your GPA through osmosis or something?"

Carol snorted. "Hey, it's like charity work. King Steve dating the nerds. Really doing his part for the community."

Steve's jaw tightened, but he kept his tone light, playing along just enough to deflect them. "I think the real charity here is me still letting you two come to these parties."

Carol flipped her hair over her shoulder, her smirk unwavering. "Relax, Steve. We're just joking around."

"Yeah, man," Tommy added, his grin widening. "No hard feelings, right?"

Steve forced a laugh, his eyes darting toward the door again. "Yeah, no hard feelings," he said, his tone clipped. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got a party to run."

Carol and Tommy exchanged smug glances before disappearing back into the crowd, their laughter fading into the noise. Steve sighed quietly, his grin slipping as he rubbed the back of his neck. A flicker of annoyance danced behind his eyes, but he shook it off quickly, returning to his usual charm as someone else approached to greet him.

The door swung open, and Steve's eyes instantly snapped to it, his breath catching as Dove stepped inside, flanked by Eddie, Ronnie, Dougie, and Jeff. The group was a stark contrast to the rest of the partygoers—Eddie's signature leather jacket, Ronnie's sharp punk style, and Dougie and Jeff's casual, laid-back vibes made them stand out in a crowd full of preppy high schoolers.

Dove, however, stole Steve's attention completely. She was dressed simply, but the way she carried herself made her glow in the dim party lights. Her eyes scanned the room before locking onto him, and Steve couldn't help the way his heart skipped at the sight of her.

"We have arrived," Eddie announced dramatically, spreading his arms wide as he took in the scene. "To the land of hair spray and overpriced sneakers."

Dove elbowed him lightly, a smirk tugging at her lips. "Behave."

"I'm always on my best behavior, Princess," Eddie shot back, winking at her before turning his attention to the spread of drinks on the nearby table. "Now, where do you think the Harringtons keep their best champagne? Or, you know, the closest thing to it."

Ronnie rolled her eyes, tugging on Eddie's arm. "Come on, let's scout the place before you embarrass us more."

As the group dispersed, Dove lingered near the door, watching as Eddie, Ronnie, Dougie, and Jeff integrated themselves into the party. When her gaze returned to Steve, he was already making his way toward her, a soft smile tugging at his lips.

"Hey," he said, his voice warm as he stopped in front of her. "You made it."

"Yeah, well," Dove teased, tilting her head. "Wouldn't want to miss one of King Steve's legendary parties."

Steve glanced over at Eddie, who was already charming a group of partygoers. He chuckled, shaking his head. "You brought the whole band, huh?"

Dove shrugged, a playful glint in her eyes. "Figured you could use a little variety in your guest list."

"Right," Steve said, leaning in just slightly. "Because nothing says variety like Munson and his entourage."

Dove laughed softly, and Steve couldn't help but feel the tension from earlier ease away. For the first time that night, he felt like he could relax.

The brief calm was interrupted as Tommy and Carol weaved through the crowd, their smug grins locked in place. Tommy carried a red cup in one hand, his posture oozing the kind of arrogant confidence that made Steve's shoulders stiffen instinctively. Carol trailed behind him, her sharp gaze flicking between Steve and Dove like she was sizing up prey.

"Well, well," Carol started, her voice dripping with mock enthusiasm as Tommy clapped Steve on the shoulder. "Look who finally showed up. And with the freak squad, no less."

Steve shifted uncomfortably, his hand twitching at his side but not raising in defense. He glanced at Dove briefly, his face unreadable, before looking down at his shoes.

Dove caught the moment, her chest tightening, but she forced herself to focus on Carol. "You know, Carol," she said with a sharp smile, "if you spent half as much time on your personality as you do running your mouth, you might actually be tolerable."

Carol's eyes widened, her smirk vanishing for a split second before she recovered. "Cute," she snapped.

"Thanks," Dove said, turning to Steve and grabbing his hand before Carol or Tommy could fire back. "Let's dance."

She pulled Steve through the crowd toward the dance floor, her grip firm, her steps quick. As they wove between people, her heart pounded—not from anger but from the sting of Steve's silence. Still, she plastered on a smile, determined not to let Carol ruin her night.

Dove swayed with Steve, the music's rhythm pulling her into the moment as the crowd buzzed around them. She let herself enjoy the simplicity of dancing with Steve, his hands resting lightly on her waist, their movements easy and natural. A small smile even crept onto her lips as he spun her unexpectedly, earning a laugh when she stumbled slightly and fell back into his arms.

The music shifted to something a bit slower, and Steve guided her into a gentle sway. For a moment, Dove let herself relax, her earlier irritation at Carol and Tommy fading into the background. She rested her hands on his shoulders, letting the rhythm carry them.

But then Steve spoke, his voice low enough to be heard over the music. "You know, you should maybe give Tommy and Carol a chance."

Dove stiffened, her gaze snapping up to meet his. "Why would I do that?" she asked, her tone sharp despite the softness of the song. "They've already decided they don't like me."

Steve hesitated, his hands still resting on her waist as he tried to explain. "They don't dislike you," he said, his voice careful. "They just don't know you."

Dove's jaw tightened, and she pulled back slightly, though she kept moving to the music. "Steve, they're awful. They're bullies. And if they don't know me, it's because they've never tried. Why is that my problem to fix?"

Steve opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, a familiar voice broke in. "Mind if I cut in?" Eddie's grin was wide, his timing perfect as he stepped up beside them.

Dove turned to him, her tension melting slightly at the sight of his easy confidence. "Eddie—"

"C'mon, Princess." He held out a hand, already pulling her away from Steve. "Save some moves for the rest of us."

Dove smiled despite herself, her shoulders relaxing as she fell into step with Eddie. His energy was infectious, and soon the tension with Steve, the party, and even Tommy and Carol faded entirely. Eddie dipped her theatrically, his grin widening as she giggled.

"You've got moves," Dove admitted, her voice breathless from laughter.

Eddie straightened, flipping his hair back dramatically. "Of course I do. I'm a man of many talents." he said with a wide grin, his tone dripping with playful arrogance.

Before Dove could reply, a familiar voice cut in from behind them. "Alright, that's enough of that," Steve said, stepping between them with a forced grin. His eyes flicked briefly to Eddie before settling on Dove. "Mind if I get my dance partner back?"

Eddie smirked, clearly enjoying himself as he took a small step back, his hands raised in mock surrender. "By all means, Harrington," he said, his tone light but with a mischievous edge. "Wouldn't want to step on your toes—literally or figuratively."

Dove gave Eddie a look, half-amused and half-apologetic, as Steve gently took her hand and led her back toward the center of the dance floor. As they began to sway again, Steve's grip on her waist was a little firmer, his expression a mix of charm and something harder to place.

"You didn't have to do that," Dove said softly, though there was a teasing lilt in her voice. "Eddie was just having fun."

Steve gave a small shrug, his gaze meeting hers. "Yeah, well, I like having fun too. Preferably with my girlfriend, not the guy auditioning for court jester."

Dove laughed, shaking her head as she let him guide her. "He's just my friend, Steve. You don't have to get all.. territorial."

"Territorial?" Steve repeated, raising an eyebrow, though a small grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. "I'm not territorial. I'm just.. keeping things balanced."

Dove rolled her eyes, leaning in slightly as the music slowed. "Uh-huh. Balanced. Sure."

Steve didn't respond, but the playful smirk on his face softened as he pulled her a little closer, the tension between them ebbing away. The rest of the room seemed to blur into the background as they danced, the music filling the space between them.

As the clock neared midnight, the energy in the room shifted. The music faded slightly, and someone near the center of the crowd began to count down, their voice loud and exuberant.

"Ten.. nine.. eight.."

Dove glanced around, the cheers and laughter of the partygoers blending into a jubilant blur. She felt Steve's hand tighten slightly at her waist, drawing her attention back to him. His eyes were locked on hers, a playful smile tugging at his lips.

"Seven.. six.. five.."

The noise around them grew louder, people throwing their arms around friends and grabbing drinks in preparation. Steve leaned in closer, his grin turning softer, almost shy.

"Four.. three.. two.."

Dove barely had time to register the look in his eyes before the final shout rang out.

"One.. Happy New Year!"

Cheers erupted, the room alive with laughter, confetti, and the sound of popping champagne corks. Steve didn't hesitate. His hand cupped the back of Dove's neck as he pulled her in, his lips meeting hers in a kiss that was equal parts sweet and confident.

For a moment, the world seemed to fall away. The noise, the crowd, even the lingering tension from earlier—it all disappeared, leaving only the two of them in the center of the chaos. Dove's hands rested lightly against his chest, her heart pounding in time with the beat of the music that had started back up.

When they finally pulled apart, Steve's forehead rested lightly against hers, a crooked grin spreading across his face. "Happy New Year," he murmured, his voice just loud enough for her to hear.

Dove smiled, her cheeks flushed from more than just the excitement in the room. "Happy New Year," she replied, her voice soft but warm.

Around them, the party carried on, but for just a moment, it felt like they were the only two people in the world.