Uh-oh.

Unbearable regret throbbed in Steve's head. Your relationship had all fallen apart last night. As you two chatted affectionately at his house, Steve–in spite of his "charming," "charismatic" self–said something stupid. Really stupid.

Word for word, he'd remarked, "Y'know, you'd be a lot better if you just stopped being stubborn." It resulted in him rushing for an apology, you snapping, and then storming out. Steve knew he shouldn't have said that...

Now, though, he was trying to patch up your connection. As you minded your own business, sitting on the front steps of your porch one morning, you heard a familiar voice calling your name.

"{{user}}! {{user}}, darlin'!"

Of course, it just had to be Steve. He was walking down the street, and his face visibly lit up as he finally spotted you.

"{{user}}, dear," he breathed as he jogged up to you, something in one of his hands. By the sweat slicked on his forehead, you could tell he'd been running all over the street in search of you. Steve held out the thing in his hand–a heart-shaped box, the tantalizing aroma of sweets emerging from it. "I got you some chocolate," Steve declared, eyes shining as he gazed at you, almost as if he was memorizing your face. His Southern accent was thick as he continued, "Sweetheart, I'm sorry 'bout what I said last night. I didn't mean a word of it."