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suffering-and-happy-about-it · 2 years

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An Unlicensed Therapist (A Steven Grant One-Shot)

Description: Your life was simply too good to be true - a bunch of the best friends on the planet, a job in one of the best attorney offices in Manhattan, and a nice guy you were seeing. But one day, your best friend Carly suddenly decides to get married to her boyfriend of five years... And that was when you felt like your life was crumbling apart.

Prompt: You are the maid of honor at your best friend's wedding, but you are single and sad about having to attend solo. Stressed and grumpy on the long flight there, you have a few too many drinks and pass out, drooling, on the shoulder of your seatmate. When you arrive at the destination, you are mortified to discover that your handsome seatmate is the best man.

A/N: Yes, I am mentioning the Jen Walters (She-Hulk (2022)) and it's because I really love her character (Tatiana is slaying!). Also, don't worry, Marc will be present. This is more of a bridge to get me back into writing because I feel like I've been slacking in this department in the last few months and I'm not really having fun with the series I'm writing for atm and I was relentlessly dragged into the MK fandom by my one and only, @missdictatorme. This is for you baby.

Pairing: None, really but Steven Grant x fem!reader, I suppose?

Word count: 5.1 K

Warnings: Well, the reader getting drunk and pouty, Marc coming off a bit of an angsty bitch at first, me hoping I didn't screw it up, break up and besties cheering each other up.

The plane around you was fucking crowded. More than that. According to the plan Carly had sent you via e-mail, your seat was located in the very front of the craft. As you walked through the small row between the seats, bumping into other passengers either with your bag or ass, you could feel the sadness and anxiety spiking in your chest. How did you even get into this mess of a situation? Well, to understand it, you had to travel back in time. Not for much, just two weeks' worth of it.

Two weeks ago:

To be honest, you were fucking tired. It was only Monday and were barely standing on your feet with how fucking tired you were. With big trouble, you barely slipped out of your high heels as you hung your keychain on the stand, balancing your cold coffee in your other palm. Taking a long breath, you finally stood in the small hall of your dark apartment, stretching your neck. It felt like you hadn't found a moment to simply catch a breath, sit down, and relax in the last few weeks, whether it was the weekend or labor day. Truth be told, the situation was pretty tense in the attorney's office you working at - you and all the other concipients were working harder than a pocket watch, trying to help all of your attorneys out. Even the lawyers themselves were pretty much clueless when it came to this particular case. Well, clueless wasn't the right word to use, but they were somewhat hesitant to propose any specific steps. This was something that rarely happened at Goodman, Lieber, Kurtzberg & Holliway, GLK/H, or GLK&H for short.

So yeah. Your work life was pretty stressful at that time. With a long breath, you decided to sit down at the dinner table while going through the post you were carrying from downstairs - without a second thought, you swung your feet onto the chair next to you, pouring yourself a big glass of wine while looking at all of the envelopes. There were a few interesting ones that caught your attention - one of which was your mother sending you a postcard from New Mexico (where she was vacating at the time), a few leaflets from your favorite boutiques across Manhattan (where you shopped when you wanted to look fancy for a work occasion or a formal one) and the last one was a small, pink envelope with a few hearts drawn all over it. Looking at the name of the sender, you realized it was your absolute best friend Carly who was sending you a letter. Not knowing why she did so (when she could literally pick up her phone and send you a text or call you), you picked a small knife and carefully opened it up... Realizing it was a wedding invitation.

For quite a bit, you stood still with the envelope in your palm and knife in the other, reading through it again and again, trying to understand if she was just fucking with you or was being serious. Your brain wasn't catching up, it seemed so. Sure, she and Kevin were an amazing couple (one of the sweetest you knew and one of which you introduced, in fact), but they never even spoke of proposing to one another - and suddenly, you were asked to be the maid of honor. Not too long after that, you were dancing your victory dance while dressed in your silky robe, a towel wrapped around your wet hair, a coal facial mask smudged all over your face, and Carly on the phone with you, explaining to you that this entire Hawaii wedding was a sudden, spontaneous idea.

Soon after, you got into all of the preparations, and let me emphasize that it wasn't exactly the most fun thing in the world - to make everything in your life work while simultaneously trying to create the perfect wedding. But honestly, you'd do anything for her. Now, on top of your very fucking stressful job, there was a whole wedding you helped to organize with the help of her mom and sister Aggie. At moments, you were thanking all the gods that you were specifically trained for chaos specifically (GLK&H was nothing more than chaos), otherwise, you wouldn't be able to compute the amount of information you needed to remember. While you were the one helping Carly with anything she asked you for, from making sure that everything will be prepared on time and according to her expectations, you were simultaneously helping her with picking the dress, the bouquet, the make-up, and... How did you manage not to get insane was beyond you.

At least you got some great help in the guest department and the bachelor and bachelorette parties - Kevin gave you his best man's number (to your surprise, the number was reserved for London) and let you two figure it out as a team. You never called each other, you never had a FaceTime or anything... You only sent each other texts and lengthy e-mails. The mysterious Steven, as the man introduced himself to you, was nice enough to check every e-mail you were about to send to the guests, the resort, or other agencies you were in contact with, and on top of that, he was making sure that there was everything in order. He honestly made everything so much easier for you. And voila, two weeks later, you had it all set in stone and sorted out - everything on your list was checked, and there was nothing left to do. Everything was to be absolutely perfect for the newlyweds... Shame the extended weekend wasn't about to be perfect for you.

The whole time you were pouring your heart into the preparations, you were sure that this guy you were seeing, Lucas, was about to be your date - sure, you weren't living with each other, but you were seeing one another on an almost daily basis and used to do all sorts of things together, sleepovers included. For the longest time, he presented himself as the prince charming you always hoped to meet one day. Lucas was very attentive and loved to spoil you; he stopped by the office on your lunch breaks just to bring you a coffee or lunch (and to tell you that he can't wait to hold you in his arms later that evening), he took you out and seemingly enjoyed doing even the most boring activities with you. Naturally, you assumed that prince charming was coming along. Who wouldn’t be up for a short vacay in Hawaii? It was a fucking dream coming true. Yet, just before you were about to drive off to the airport, he walked up to you, looked you in the eyes, and put his palm on your shoulder... And broke up with you. Imagine it. You were standing there with your mouth open, dressed in very tight cycling shorts and an oversized, ugly Hawaiian shirt (which you borrowed from Kevin) with an enormous straw hat on top of your head while this dreamy, almost too-good-to-be-true guy is holding your shoulder in his palm, telling you that it would never have worked anyway. That he was bored. That he had met someone else the other day. And that he fell for her, saying that he’s so sorry for not going with you to the wedding.

Well, you thought to yourself, fuck me, fuck him, and fuck this. You were in deep fucking trouble (not really, but you loved being dramatic). With your head held high, like the fighter you were, and your cheeks wet from tears, you drove yourself to the airport, telling yourself that you’ll make it the best wedding in the world nonetheless. Your ma didn't raise no quitter. You didn’t need a stupid man by your side to feel happy. You’ll just order enough margaritas to make yourself forget his face and if you’d be lucky enough and the known wedding superstition will come true, you’ll have the best man bending you over by this time tomorrow. In Hawaii.

Let’s say that this didn’t go as planned either; half an hour later, after going through the control of your luggage and ticket, you were sitting in the middle of the airport with an over-sized iced chocolate latté that had too much sugar in it with your headphones deep inside your ears, listening to Diana Ross and Jen’s voice on the phone. It was early Friday morning and you couldn’t call Carly to cry about what kind of son of a whore Lucas was (since it was literally her wedding weekend), Nikki wasn’t picking up and Jen was the only one who was most likely already up and getting ready for yet another day in the GLK&H. She was also one of the nicest and calmest people you’ve ever come across; you weren’t exactly besties, but you surely could call one another a friend.

Her phone was laying on her table as she put on her make-up, leaning into her mirror - so you could perfectly see each swoosh of her mascara and brush along with her forcing her double chin out just to make you giggle (since she quite literally didn’t have one). “Listen to me, Y/N.” - The woman said in a firm voice, putting her lipstick on while doing so. - “You are one of the most persistent, strongest, and stubborn people I’ve ever met. Like seriously, the office would fall apart in flames if there wasn’t for you and Nikki being our damn concipients. And I mean that. Like, without your constant hard work, information research, and cheering up, we’d be nothing - a hot pile of trash. You’re the driving force of GLK&H and don’t make some idiot make you feel otherwise, yeah?” - With that, she jolted, picked her phone up, and walked over to her closet.

“Yeah.” - You whined in a high-pitched voice, holding back the sob as you tried to dry the tears off your face. Your mascara was running all over your cheeks and the expression on your face was resembling a small child's who was throwing a tantrum, but Jen’s words made you genuinely feel better. So, you managed to crack a small, almost pathetic smile for her. “There is my tigress! Hello, I've missed you, sugar!” - She cheered, her voice filled with support. - “So, tell me now, will there be any handsome men that might take over Lucas’ spot, even for the weekend? You know how weddings go."

"Jen!" - You exclaimed with shock, laughing at what she had just said. This made her chuckle as well. - "I don't really know. It's gonna be a really small wedding, you know, just family and closest friends. And most of them seemed to be coupled anyway." "Then what about that Steven guy? He never mentioned he'd be having a date and from what you've told me, he made your life so much easier... And from the e-mails you've shown me that were sent by him, the guy really knows his grammar and is very polite. That's a promising start?" - Jen guessed, shrugging her shoulders as she pulled out a red turtleneck. She looked like a bombshell with that piece of clothing. - "You know what? Don't say anything, it'll be a surprise. What you gonna do on board the plane is that you'll order as much alcohol as you can. And trust me, girl, you'll have 10 hours to accomplish exactly that."

That happened two hours ago. Now, you were walking to your seat with your handbag, still dressed in that oversized monstrosity and very tight shorts while slowly moving forward, waiting for all the passengers in front of you to find their seats or to simply sit down. Most of the attendees were flying over by the next flight, but you needed to arrive sooner to make sure everything will be prepared for them, taking all of the weight off Carly's shoulders. After fifteen minutes of awkwardly standing around, you finally managed to walk to the front of the economy class, looking right at your seat - the problem was, there was a guy napping there already. Looking around nervously, you bit your bottom lip before bending over to him and shaking his shoulder nervously.

To be frank, the stranger was very handsome from what you could see. His black wavy hair was styled messily, there was a visible stubble on his cheeks contrasting the soft, rosy lips. The features of his face were giving you some kind of Spanish teacher on high school vibes - you liked the curve of his nose and his dark brown, sleepy eyes as he tried to wake up. "I'm really sorry but I'm dying to get on my seat, sit down and let my legs rest. I was waiting in that line for a long time." - You explained quickly, pointing to the seat next to the window. The man turned his head around with confusion, looking at the seat and you before picking himself up in hurry. - "Sorry, miss. I've been dying to catch a bit of sleep, I'm on the plane since yesterday evening."

If you'd be in a better mindset, you'd immediately notice the thick British accent that you had just let slip past your radars altogether. You couldn't be bothered, to be honest, trying not to cry all the fucking time. Plus, the man was nice enough to apologize to you so there wasn't anything strange about it. "Off to Hawaii too, hm? What for?" - You asked while letting him help you with your luggage, slipping past him to sit down in your corner.

"My best mate's wedding. He finally decided to hit it off with a girl he's been seeing for the longest time, good for him." - The gentleman answered immediately, offering you his right palm to shake hands. He was holding your bag in the compartment with his left hand still. This piece of information would tell even the biggest idiot that the man standing right in front of you, the handsome gentleman, was the mysterious Steven you've been exchanging e-mails with for the past couple of weeks. But, apparently, your brain decided to take a vacay as well, leaving you and your stupid ass on your own. - "Name's Steven, in case I could be of any help. Could be useful since we'll be sitting next to each for the next ten hours." "Totes." - You agreeded, shaking his palm. - "Name's Y/N. In case I could be of any help."

As soon as you both sat back down, Steven dozed off right after he fastened himself, knowing well he won't be up to even listen to the instructions. As he told you, he took off early Thursday morning just to get to the USA and to Hawaii from there - plus Marc was being a pain in the ass for the past few days, borrowing the body during the night again. So, because you were listening for both of you and your sleeping companion, you were paying extra attention, practicing all the moves the crazy nice flying attendant was showing to you - while knowing that in the next three hours, you'll be either dead asleep or drunk beyond socially acceptable. As soon as she reached the two of you, asking what you'll be drinking, you told her that you'll have a double margarita. "And what can I get for the gentleman?" - She asked you, assuming that you two are most likely traveling together. Not that you'd be complaining though. "Oh, he'll have a double shot of vodka. You know, poor guy, flying gets him all railed up. Just look at him." - And to make the situation even more comical, Steven snored loudly and flapped his mouth. The woman gave you a funny look but didn't ask further questions since alcohol was all-inclusive in economy class. As soon she put the glasses in front of you, you took a deep breath and looked at them.

"What is that awful smell?" - Steven mumbled sleepily, opening his eyes just to see you clinking the margarita glass and shot. - "Dear Lord, lady. You'll feel sick, you know that right?" "I know, yea." - You answered with a resolute nod, kicking the entire shot inside your mouth while trying not to puke. Fuck, that was some good vodka right there, burning your throat as you gulped it. Giggling, you covered your mouth and let out a long breath, shaking the feeling off. What you didn't notice was that the man was watching you intently, furrowing upon seeing your eyes getting starry.

"You're not feeling alright, are you, mate?" - He whispered quietly as the first sob left your body, making your shrug your shoulders as you tried to keep it in. Then, with tears running down your cheeks, you turned your face to him and shook your head. This time, the man carefully put his palm on your shoulders, all the empathy showing on his face. - "Wanna talk about it, love?" While being the typical gentleman Steve usually was, he brought all hell broke loose upon him, which was a fact he realized much, much later. At first, your rambling was coherent enough for him to understand that a guy broke up with you just before you took off to Hawaii (which also explained the empty seat between the two of you), which Steve deemed an absolute dick move. Sometime between your third and fourth shot of vodka, you started to cry about your job (he only understood that you were working as a concipient) and at the seventh one, you were barely making any sense. Steve was humming, patting your shoulder, answering "Of course, yeah" or "Oh, I'm so sorry to hear that, love" whenever he seemed fit.

Four hours into the flight, he really couldn't understand a single fucking word from your heartbroken, drunken, and crying speech. So he continued on with patting your shoulder, looking aside with boredom on his face. You were going on and on and on. 'I don't wanna interrupt your train of thoughts, pal, since even you thinking about spinach is more interesting than whatever she is going off about...' Marc's voice popped inside Steven's head suddenly while the other man was staring at Steven through the spoon laying on the small table, making Steven jump on the seat a bit as he suddenly woke up from a slight trance, looking around with confusion. It could be heard that Marc thinks you're simply yet another crazy airplane lady he had heard so much about and wasn't taking you too seriously. Your eyes were piercing through the profile of his face, clearly trying to figure out which of the four Stevens is the real one, waiting for something. 'But I think that Little Miss Sunshine over here just asked you something.' "Could come again, love? I got lost in my thoughts." - Steven asked nonchalantly, giving you a small, warm smile. "I asked you if you think I'm pretty?" - You repeated the best you could, leaning your elbows into the armrests between you. The man rose his eyebrows in surprise, clearly being caught off guard by that question. At first, the answer seemed to be a very long 'Ermmmm...' as Steven thought about what could be the answer for a drunk lady.

The man looked in your face with literal puppy eyes, nervously fidgeting his fingers around, holding onto his trousers. Pretty? If you were pretty? You were gorgeous, to be frank. Even in his dizzy, sleepy state, back when Steven introduced himself to you, he was able to catch your pretty smile as you shook his palm. Back then, your hair was tidily framing your face as you tried to hold yourself high, trying to make up for all the pain and sadness inside. And now that you were drunk, you were not only gorgeous but adorable as well - he liked your face all warmed up from the alcohol and your eyes shining as you stared at him as if he was the most handsome man you've ever seen... Which sort of hurt because he realized that you were just drunk out of your mind. Trust me, Steven very much realized you're an absolute angel and if he had the balls to go for it, he'd tell you that you caught his eye immediately... The problem was that Steven was being a Steven and a red alarm was going off inside his head.

'What should I do? What should I do? What on Earth should I say, Marc?' - Steven yelled on the inside while looking into your face with his eyes popped a bit and his mouth open. 'First things first, you need to calm down, pal. Drunk women are one of the most dangerous beings on this planet because one wrong word can make them burst into tears. And this girl has clearly been through enough already.' - Marc assumed based on the raccoon eyes you were rocking, trying to keep Steven cool as he was about to guide him through this minefield. - 'What happened to her, by the way? I was taking a nap and woke up when we had a drunk girl sitting next to us.' 'Her bloke broke up with her just before she got on the flight.' 'Oh, wow. I take everything back. That's a dick move. It makes a lot of sense now.' - Marc mumbled apologetically even though you couldn't hear him. He felt like a dick himself, calling you crazy and all that. With that, he looked an intent look on you. - 'What do you think?' 'That she's gorgeous and before you manage to oppose, mate, it's not because she's paying me attention, thank you very much. I wish you would see before she got bladdered, her smile was so... Adorable.' - Steven answered, finally closing his mouth as he gave you a warm smile. Damn, he knew you won't remember any of this by the time you'd be getting off the flight, but he was keen on giving you the answer you deserved - especially after what happened to you.

'Steven, that would be a low fucking blow - telling you that you like a girl just because she's paying you attention. Geez, you really think of me that low, huh? We both know that you're a handsome man, come on now. Alright, alright, listen up - here's the game plan.' - Marc opposed heatedly and Steven could literally feel him rolling his eyes. He'd definitely tell that to Steven if Grant wouldn't call him out first. "Y/N, love." - The man answered after a long with, catching your palm in his to make sure he has your full attention. - "Let me start by saying that your beauty doesn't depend on one twat's opinion and you shouldn't let the break-up mess with your mind, alright? But if you'd like a more sincere answer, I think you're an absolute killer and in my opinion, you're stunning. So, what you're gonna do for me, love, is that you'll pick your pretty chin up and make sure you'd make the guy jealous if he was here with you, alright? Could you do that for me?"

At first, the muscles in your face contracted a bit before a huge smile broke out on your face... And it was so contagious that it made Steven smile back at you. - 'Good job. See? Wasn't that hard, was it? Now ask her if you can take a nap because I can feel how drowsy and tired you feel, Steven. We don't want you fainting, do we?' "I'm going to nap for a bit and I'll listen to some music. Would you want to share the headphones?" - Steven asked quietly, holding back a long yawn. Bloody hell, he was really sleepy. And so, with a grateful smile, you let Steven slip into the empty seat next to you, took one of the headphones, and closed your eyes as well, falling asleep while listening to some calm indie and pop music.

Well, let's just say that wasn't the story a few hours later - six to be exact, as a big thud made you wake up. As expected, you didn't remember the better portion of the night. Holy fucking mother of God, you thought to yourself, moaning as you caught your temple. You needed a Coke, a glass of water, and some painkiller asap. For some random reason, you had a headphone in your left ear, listening to Cavetown. You were only able to identify the band because you, Carly, Nikki, and Jen sometimes put them on during your road trips. As you clicked your tongue, you realized that the spot under your lips if drenched - realizing it was your own saliva. Oh, God. Oh no. What if Steven was already up and saw what happened? Oh shit, that would be embarrassing. You might've planned on asking him for dinner if he'd have the time after his wedding plans. And shit only got worse as you opened your eyes, realizing you're laying on someone's shoulder. Your heart was racing so fast that you started to sweat as if you smelling like an opened bottle of vodka wasn't fucking enough. Horrifiedly, you looked above just to see Steven's sharp jaw and black locks. He himself was, thankfully, still asleep - his temple was leaned into the seat's headrest, his lips opened wide. Holy fucking mother of God, you repeated while ripping the headphone out and standing up, sneaking around the sleeping man to disappear as quickly as you could.

As you walked down the stairs, you put chewing gum into your mouth and covered your eyes with sunglasses, putting the enormous straw hat back onto your head. Good, you thought to yourself as you let a deep breath out, good. You got dumped yesterday and you beslobbered all over that really handsome and very nice guy who was listening to your fucking bullshit. Great. At least it was a stranger who we won't ever see again. Thank fucking God, I wouldn't be able to look into his damn eyes again. Walking down the stair and into the hall, you could almost immediately see Carly and Kevin standing in the welcoming crowd, holding two huge handmade signs - one has your name all over it, beautified with hearts, clouds, and stars (which was clearly done by Carly herself) and the second one spelled 'Steven Grant' - the mysterious Steven, you thought. The greeting was amazing - all three of you laughed happily, Carly showing you her engagement ring as you two happily jumped around, performing the victory dance you were known for around the office. Sure, Kevin pointed out that you smelled like a fucking pub, but as soon as you told them what happened (since Carly naturally asked about Lucas), they both nodded and promised you that this will be the best weekend to get over him. They even mouthed that Steven would totally be all over you as soon as he'll meet you - He is a total innocent sweetheart on the outside, Carly whispered, but you know what they say - it's always the quiet ones. Try spending time with him, I think you two will click.

Turning your head around, you saw Steven the Gentleman, as you decided to dub him, walking in your general direction - your face got sweaty as you turned away from him, trying to disappear into the crowd, praying that this guy had never even seen Kevin. But he was coming closer and closer. And when he stopped right in front of Kevin to shake his mate's hand and hug him with laughter (kissing Carly's cheeks right after, congratulating both of them), you knew you were fucked. And not just fucked. You were about to die from embarrassment - you wanted to dig your own grave and let Carly bury you six feet under; you knew well that she shares the sense for drama, so she'd be on board for sure. At least he took the shirt off, not making you feel even worse. If Kevin would ask why is he wet for... Oooof, you'd faint. You'd start crying and run off, proclaiming that your social life is absolutely non-existent. But as soon as Kevin brought Steven's attention to you, you managed to draw out a very awkward smile while offering him your palm, pretending you've never met this dude ever in your life.

"I'm Y/N, you know, that girl you were correcting the e-mail after. If that would be of any help." - You said quietly, your face heating up once more as you tried to stay calm. The man could feel your palm shaking and sweating, but he didn't note it as the gentleman he was. When he woke up with your saliva all over his shoulder and you nowhere to be seen, he wasn't upset or anything like that. If anything, this thing you deemed embarrassing proved to him that the entire flight was totally real - that it wasn't just his dream. You were real. "Oh, totes." - Steven smiled, rephrasing what you said before getting hammered - this caught your attention and made you smile a bit more genuine. - "Name's Steven, in case I could be of any help."

"Steven, when did you start saying totes, dude? Never heard you say that." "Oh, I met this really sweet lady yesterday. She was very nice." - Steven answered with the sweetest smile, making you smile as well. But, in any case, you were determined not to hang out around Steven too much so he wouldn't think you're even more coo-coo than he already must've been thinking.

Well, let's say... That didn't go according to the plan either, did it?