Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Steve Harrington sits in a small plastic chair at a table in the back room of a tiny mall ice cream shop in Hawkins, Indiana, in late June 1985. As a 19-year-old, slinging ice cream at the new Starcourt Mall for a living wasn’t his first choice for a career, but hey, if it means Steve can afford to move outta his parent’s house before the new school year, he’ll take what he can get. Not that he’s planning on going back to school.

Steve’s father, who is away more often than not on “business trips” with his wife, has threatened to cut him off for good more than once, and Steve doesn’t really feel like getting his ass thrown out on the street with nothing but the clothes on his back when his father finally decides to make good on his promise. It’s not like he has some big dream job he’s missing out on. He barely passed senior year, and he knows he’s not college material, no matter how many times his mom used to suggest community classes (she and his father are ashamed of him, she only did that to try to make him amount to something). But this? Wearing a sailor getup and dealing with middle schoolers with sticky hands? He can’t help but wonder when exactly it all started to feel so… useless.

He catches his reflection in the scratched metal napkin dispenser across from him: the rumpled uniform, hair a little deflated, dark circles just starting to form under his eyes.

“King Steve,” he whispers with a humorless smile, the words tasting stale as they leave his mouth. What a joke. He sighs, drags a hand down his face, and glances at the clock. Two more hours ‘til closing.

His parents are still out of town, but who knows when he will need to pack his things and go on his merry way? Better safe than sorry, is what he thinks. Scoops Ahoy had been a weird kind of blessing, a brief pause in the endless loop of crap life keeps throwing at him. So really, he couldn’t justify complaining. Not out loud, anyway. So, three bucks an hour is what Steve gets.

But now, as he hears the insistent ding of the annoying bell from the counter outside of the break room and his coworker, Robin’s, voice shout out, “Hey dingus! Your children are here!” he pushes himself up to open the window to peek out into the parlor and thinks it might be worth it to be homeless after all.

Looking at the bored face of a 14-year-old Mike Wheeler, Steve leans on the counter and says annoyedly, “Again? Seriously?”

He could honestly get fired for letting them go see endless movies for free, but he really can’t say no. They know how to get under his skin, especially Max. Plus, they’ve all been through hell and back, so really, is it that big a deal?

Mike just looks at him and rings the bell again, as if Steve hadn’t gotten the message the first hundred times. Reluctantly, he lets Max, Lucas, Will, and the little shit that Mike is into the back and through the door that connects the hallway from the Scoops to the mall theater with a hurried, “Come on, come on,” waving his hand to usher the last kid forward.

With his hand still on the door and the children walking swiftly away from him, Steve shouts, “I swear, if anybody hears about this—”

“We’re dead!” the group of young teenagers interrupt him and finish his sentence, not even bothering to look back at him. Steve stands with his hand on his hip and the other jutted out, contemplating his life choices, and resolutely turns back to enter the sickly sugar-smelling ice cream parlor with a long sigh, letting the door slam behind him.

He goes back out to the front of the shop, deciding his break is over anyway. He takes a couple orders and scoops his life away for about five minutes before he hears a distant whir. Just as he's finishing up a sundae with too much whipped cream, a low mechanical hum breaks through the buzz of lights. It grows louder for a second, then cuts off abruptly. The lights overhead flicker once, twice, and then everything goes dark.

The neon glow of the Scoops Ahoy sign dies with a sad, electric sigh, leaving only the emergency lights humming to life in soft red. Steve freezes with the scooper still in hand, chocolate slowly melting onto his wrist.

Steve says, “That’s weird,” very intelligently, just to annoy Robin, but she ignores him, instead looking around with a confused and slightly concerned look on her face.

He moves to the light switch just a few feet behind him and starts flipping it on and off repeatedly. Robin glares at him exasperatedly and says, “That isn’t gonna work, dingus.”

Steve tilts his face to at the ceiling and then back down at her face, stubbornly telling her, “Oh really?” and starts flipping it even more aggressively than before. He purses his lips with the effort, inclining his chin up in a mocking way toward Robin. For a good fifteen seconds, he flips the switch, not knowing that for miles, the power all over the small town of Hawkins has gone out as well, not just at the mall.

Steve flips the switch on one last time and the power in the little ice cream shop is restored, clearly by some dumb stroke of luck that it matched up perfectly with his determined flipping.

He looks at Robin with a smug expression and lifts the hand the doesn’t have a waffle cone in it with a shrug, saying, “Let there be light.”

He said it in his most snarky voice, convinced it will annoy the shit out of the girl, and is given a small sarcastic, agitated smile from her as a comeback as he turns back to finish getting the customers their diabetes on a cone.

As Steve works, the power outage stays on his mind. What could have made a brand-new mall lose power so easily? As he finishes the order, he thinks back to a couple years ago when lights started flickering. In November of 1983, his life took an abnormal turn as he fought alongside Nancy Wheeler and Jonathan Byers to fight a monster he knew nothing about, forever changing the way he thought about the world. Then, just last year, he joined up with Dustin Henderson, a nerdy 13-year-old boy to fight more monsters from the alternate dimension— “Demodogs,” Dustin called them—with a new member of the party, Maxine Mayfield. Once again, putting his life on the line for the little shits.

And even if he didn’t fully grasp everything (the Upside Down, psychic powers, creepy secret labs), he got the basics, and it had forced him to admit that life was a lot bigger, and way stranger, than he’d ever thought. So, when the lights go out in a place like Starcourt, it doesn’t feel like a random blackout.

It hadn’t been all bad though, because out of the whole world-ending catastrophe last time, he actually ended up with a friend. Dustin had stuck by him throughout the remainder of the school year, encouraging Steve on his way to high school graduation.

As a result, Dustin sort of looks up to Steve now, but he’s not really sure why. Maybe it’s because his dad was never around and he’s only ever lived with his mom. Or maybe it’s because Steve had taken more than a few punches from Billy Hargrove—Max’s older brother, who’d been itching for an excuse to beat the living shit out of him since the start of the year. It could also be the fact that Steve willingly ventured into the tunnels of the Upside Down with the kids to set it on fire, throwing himself into danger with that familiar, self-sacrificing mindset.

Whatever the reason, Dustin sees him as something close to a big brother. Flawed, stubborn, kind of dumb sometimes, but brave in a way. He has never said as much, but Steve knows. Why else would he hang out with him so much?

With a jolt of shock at his happiness at thinking of Dustin, he remembers that the kid is supposed to be coming back from some genius summer camp tomorrow. Camp Know Where, if Steve’s many concussions haven’t finally gotten to his memory. He knows that the other kids are planning a surprise welcome home thing at Dustin’s house and feels regretful he can’t join because he’s working again. That thought immediately makes him frown, because he shouldn’t be wanting to hang out with a bunch of fourteen-year-olds, right? On the other hand, he also misses Dustin, if he’s being honest. The kid’s been away for a whole month, leaving Steve with the company of only Robin and the others.

It isn’t that bad, but he would like another adult to talk to, even if the “adult” in question is really just another kid. Dustin alarms Steve with how much he acts like a grown-up around him though, so it really doesn’t matter all that much to Steve.

Twenty minutes to closing (why is the shop even open, it’s nighttime for God’s sake. Who needs ice cream at night?), Steve notices the lack of customers in the shop. There are none in fact, and Steve looks up and out of the parlor to another store in the mall, the newly decorated music store. It is then that he sees a tall curly haired man in it, browsing through the selections with a slow stride, taking in the amount of records and cassettes for sale. Steve is suddenly struck by a realization.

That’s Eddie Munson.

Steve remembers him vaguely, just in flickers. A few years back, he used to see that curly mop bobbing through the hallways, always trailing late to class or holding court in the cafeteria with his Hellfire Club crew. Eddie had this theatrical energy, like he was constantly mid-goddamn-monologue, and he made even skipping a test look like a dramatic show. Their paths never really crossed. Eddie was loud in ways Steve wasn't. He wore denim vests with patches Steve couldn’t begin to decipher. But still, there was something magnetic about him. Not in a popular kind of way, but in a you-can’t-help-but-notice kind of way.

Steve remembers overhearing the teachers talk about him. Bright, but a pain. Mostly, the student population called him a freak. But Steve always thought it was more like Eddie just didn’t care what anyone thought. Well, not back then, Steve had been a complete asshole and thought that he was a freak too.

And now, there he is: years later, silhouetted in the glow of the record store lights, looking completely at home among the vinyl. The same hair, the same style. Steve can’t help but watch him for a second.

He’s wearing a pair of black ripped jeans, a red flannel shirt tied around his waist, and a sleeveless W.A.S.P. tank top that fits loose around the shoulders, leaving his tattooed arms exposed. His hair is also pulled up into a loose ponytail, the locks curling around his neck unintentionally. The only strange thing about the grunge outfit is the white Reebok sneakers, but even then, they complement the outfit somehow. Steve also sees a silver colored ball chain hanging around his neck and disappearing into the tank top, hiding whatever is on the end of his necklace. A glint of silver from the man’s fingers draw Steve’s attention, and he sees that Eddie is wearing many rings on them. The sight of him is hypnotizing. Steve finally snaps out of it when Robin shouts at him to tell him that it’s almost closing time.

He turns away from the sight of the music store and says to Robin with a distracted, “Yeah sure, okay.”

He realizes that she’s still in the back, so he can’t see her, and vice versa. After a pause in which Steve tries to gather his thoughts, he glances toward the other side again and nearly jumps out of his skin. The music store is completely empty.

In less than a minute, Eddie had slipped out and vanished into the mall crowd, leaving no trace. Steve blinks, caught off guard by how fast he disappeared. His eyes are wide, and he silently thanks whatever's up there that his jaw didn’t hit the floor.

Robin comes up behind him and says, “Let’s close up. Some of us actually have a curfew, you know.”

She looks at him with a scoff when she sees the expression on his face and says, “What happened to you? You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Oh shit, did you actually?”

Steve looks away from the other end of the mall and gives her a “let’s be real” face, sarcasm dripping from his facial features.

“Yes Robin, I saw a ghost. Strangely, it looked kinda like a white sheet with cutouts for eyes.” He thinks that after all he’s been through, he really shouldn’t have been too surprised if he had actually seen a ghost. This thought must have shown, because she squints her eyes, narrowing her gaze.

“Well, now you’re actually starting to freak me out, Harrington. You looked totally serious, like you were reminiscing about PTSD or war trauma or something.”

Steve stares, and seems to snap out of it, saying offhandedly, “Yeah, yeah, Buckley. Let’s just close up, I’m dying for a shower. This constant sugar smell is driving me insane.”

Robin slaps his arm, but not too hard, another scoff coming from her mouth and muttering, “Like I want to hear about your nightly escapades in the shower, dingus.”

Steve grins, laughing slightly under his breath. She really isn’t all that bad, Robin. Still not remotely his type, but she is funny and ends up making him chuckle even when he’s half dead, like right now.

They spend the next fifteen minutes cleaning up and closing, making sure the metal gate at the front of the store is locked securely and the lights inside are turned off.

An announcement comes from the PA overhead, reporting the mall to now be closed and telling the remaining stragglers to make their way to the closest exit.

“Bye, Harrington. See you tomorrow, I guess.”

Robin jogs away from him, her little backpack with her helmet inside bouncing slightly and he catches a glimpse of the bright bandages on her knees as she turns. He has never seen her ride, but tonight he is especially concerned for her as to how she’s going to get home in the dark. He shakes his head at that, continuing away from her to the opposite parking lot where he parked his BMW before work. Why should he care about how she gets home? He considers the fact that it’s probably his “babysitter instinct”, as Dustin likes to call it.

But Steve doesn’t really see her as a kid. Apparently, she just got done with her junior year at Hawkins High, where he only graduated from last month. He doesn’t think that means she’s anywhere close to an adult though, and is confused about what category it puts her in.

His blue Adidas sneakers smack rhythmically against the tile as he weaves through the almost empty mall corridors toward the parking lot. The glass double doors sigh shut behind him as he steps out into the thick summer night. When his eyes land on the burgundy Bimmer parked a few spots down, he quickens his pace, eager to get there. The heavy, humid air slips through his hair and skims along his bare arms and legs, a clammy breeze that somehow feels like freedom.

He reaches into the pocket of his stupid sailor uniform for his keys while still walking and hears a car engine starting in the distance.

Steve pauses and looks ahead past his own car to see none other than Eddie Munson for the second time today. The lights in his beat-up dark blue Chevrolet are on, giving Steve a perfect look inside. Eddie seems to be getting ready to pull out of the parking lot, a cigarette in his mouth with smoke winding around the air and leaning back with his eyes closed against the seat. Suddenly, as if he knows he’s being watched, he looks up and catches Steve stopped in the middle of the lot, staring.

Eddie doesn’t flinch, just raises an eyebrow, his expression unreadable under the faint glow of the dashboard lights. The smoke curls upward, haloing his face in a way that makes him look more like a phantom than a guy who just bought records across the mall. For a split second, neither of them moves. Then Steve, still clutching his keys, shifts awkwardly and offers a small nod, casual, like he hadn’t just been caught standing there staring like a total weirdo.

Eddie tips his chin in return, something like a half-smile ghosting across his face. With a two-fingered salute, Eddie just turns up the music in the van and starts backing up his car. The rumble of the engine grows louder, tires crunching gently over the pavement as he rolls past. Steve watches the tail lights fade into the night, only blinking when they disappear behind a row of bushes near the lot’s exit.

He exhales a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding and finally turns toward his own car.

He opens the driver’s side door, slides into the seat, and lets his forehead rest briefly against the steering wheel. For a second, he just breathes slowly, heavy, like his body’s finally catching up to how drained he feels. Then, with a flick of his wrist, he starts the engine, the new Tears for Fears cassette already queued up and ready to go. As the opening notes of “Head Over Heels” fill the cabin, he pulls out of the lot and heads toward his parents’ house in Loch Nora. His voice instinctively picks up the melody, humming along under his breath.

“Something happens and I’m head over heels

 I never find out ‘til I’m head over heels…”

The song spills through the speakers, steady and familiar, as Steve taps the wheel in time with the beat. There’s something about the lyrics that sit a little too close to home, like they’re pulling thoughts straight from the back of his head. The tunes are the kind of company that don’t ask questions or expect answers.

He doesn’t say it out loud (because he knows it’s corny), but when those chords hit just right, it feels like the songs see him more clearly than most people do. He doesn’t think about Nancy Wheeler. He can’t afford to.

“Something happens and I'm head over heels

Ah, don't take my heart, don't break my heart

Don't, don't, don't throw it away…”

When Steve pulls up to the oversized house in his too-fancy neighborhood his parents picked out for the status symbol, the engine’s barely off before he’s dragging himself out of the car, leaving his Scoops Ahoy hat in the passenger seat. He’s beyond exhausted: limbs heavy, head buzzing with leftover adrenaline. He wasn’t exaggerating when he told Robin he needed a shower. He feels like he’s coated in a fine layer of sugar and sweat, and it’s been bugging him since his shift ended.

He stumbles through the front door, toeing off his sneakers and letting them land wherever. His keys get tossed haphazardly onto his bed, clattering on the blankets. After a quick rinse in the shower, he slips into a pair of soft gray sweatpants and an old Hawkins Phys Ed shirt with the collar frayed and sleeves loose. He is actually glad that he’s so tired; normally the trauma catches up with him at night and doesn’t let him sleep. However, if he finds himself too tired to walk, he usually is passed out just as soon as he makes it to his bed.

He collapses onto his king-size mattress, hair still damp, the pillow cool beneath his cheek. He barely manages to glance over to his nightside stand to make sure his nail-covered bat is still where he left it before sleep starts pulling him under.

The last thing he thinks about isn’t monsters or malls or what fresh hell tomorrow might bring. It’s Eddie, standing in the glow of the record store, framed by rows of vinyl. He thinks about the long, loose brown curls in that ponytail and scattered tattoos on his arms and wonders why seeing him again brought him so much nostalgia. And why he reacted that way.

Steve’s eyes fall shut for the last time, light and hot steam from the bathroom trailing into his room through the cracked doorway and illuminating his dark bedroom slightly, casting his hair and skin in a warm fluorescent glow.

Eddie doesn’t even know what he’s doing here. The mall is so not a place for him, it’ll probably just attract more assholes to call him a freak. Nevertheless, he heard there is a pretty good record store, and he wants to pick up some new albums.

He makes his way through the halls, gaining strange looks from the people who he passes by. He ignores the glares like he always does and makes his way to the intended target, which is right across from an open ice cream parlor called Scoops Ahoy. He scoffs. It’s 9 o’clock at night, why is the shop even open? Who needs ice cream at night?

Eddie barely glances at it, not even looking inside and letting his eyes linger only long enough to read the name above the door. He looks toward the record store then and keeps his strides long. He doesn’t have much time; the mall closes in about twenty minutes. When he makes it to the store, he sees an elderly man standing at the counter when he walks in.

“Hey, son. Take a look around, see if you would like to get anything. We close in about ten minutes, but I can definitely help you check out before we do.”

Eddie is totally taken aback by how nice the man is and figures he doesn’t know anything about Eddie. Perks of being old, he guesses. He smiles.

“Hey thanks, man. I’ll let ‘ya know if I need something.”

He then walks to the right side of the store to the rock section and immediately starts running his hands on the vinyl’s, the plastic covering on them scratching his hands slightly. He lifts them up one at a time and looks at them, wondering which to get so he can hook it up to his record player when he gets home.

A sudden sensation hits the back of his neck like a static charge. That eerie prickle, you know, the one that creeps in when you’re almost certain someone’s watching, but can’t quite prove it? Yeah, that one.

He stiffens instinctively but keeps his eyes trained on the shelf in front of him, fingers trailing along the edges of a record sleeve he’s not really seeing. Whatever it is, he doesn’t want to give himself away. Doesn't want to look too curious. So, he keeps browsing, hands steady, even as the feeling lingers for what feels like forever. Two whole minutes, maybe more. Still, he doesn’t look up.

Then, a voice slices through the thick quiet of the evening crowd, a girl across the way shouting to her coworker that it’s nearly closing time. Eddie lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and takes the moment as his excuse to look. He glances up, casually, like it’s nothing.

But his eyes catch on the ice cream parlor. And on him.

There’s a guy behind the counter, back turned, posture relaxed but distracted, broad muscular shoulders slightly hunched, like he’s somewhere else entirely. He’s wearing a blue-and-white sailor getup, complete with a goofy little hat, and even from this distance, Eddie can see thick, soft-looking hair curling out from underneath. Eddie suddenly sees himself running his fingers through that hair, his other hand trailing over the man’s waist—

That’s enough. He’s gotta get out.

Without another glance, Eddie turns on his heel, tossing a quick goodbye over his shoulder to the elderly manager behind the counter. Then he jogs out of the store, empty-handed and flustered, wondering why the hell he suddenly feels like he’s the one who’s been caught staring. Where the fuck did that particular vision come from?

Get out get out get out. His mind repeats a simple mantra, over and over until he reaches the sticky air of the night outside. He stops, sitting down on the curb before the parking lot and rests his head in his arms, his legs propped beneath him where he sits.

Eddie doesn’t know why he had such a visceral reaction to seeing a random guy. It’s not like he hasn’t been around attractive people before. He’s usually better at masking it. Keeping things quiet. Controlled. He didn’t even see the dude’s face, for God’s sake. Now, he’s a total mess on the curb outside of Starcourt mall. What in the world is going on?

Son of a bitch.

Eddie feels like this could only happen in movies; the wild panic and fast beating of his heart alerting him to try and slow down. He drags a hand through his hair, already pulled half loose from its ponytail, and stares out at the parking lot like it might have answers. His knee bounces involuntarily. It’s not like he hasn’t had crushes before, but they were fleeting, manageable things. He’s even had a few moments that felt dangerous in a fun way. But this? This felt… targeted. Like some universal joke was being played at his expense.

He tries to shake it off. It doesn't mean anything. Just some guy in a dumb uniform with good hair. Big deal.

And yet.

Eddie leans his elbows on his knees and exhales hard, the kind of breath that feels like trying to wring something out of your chest. His heart is still pounding and his hands won’t stay still. He’s not sure what’s worse: that he’s reacting this strongly, or that he kind of wants to go back in there.

Just to see if the guy turns around.

It’s absolute bullshit.

This is so stupid.

Eddie doesn’t know how long he’s been sitting on the concrete, long enough for the feeling in his legs to go weird and tingly. When he finally stands and starts toward the parking lot, hands shoved in his pockets and brain still a little scrambled, the sharp clack-clack-clack of a bike chain being pushed catches his attention.

He turns.

Robin Buckley.

Pushing a beat-up ten-speed with a crooked handlebar and her usual expression of determined exasperation. She hasn’t seen him yet, too busy adjusting the strap on her backpack and muttering something under her breath. Wow, he hasn’t seen her outside of school probably ever—

And suddenly, it clicks. Uniform. The same style as one the guy at the parlor was wearing, a little different though. The goofy sailor outfit, now slightly wrinkled under her windbreaker. Of course. Scoops Ahoy.

Eddie blinks once, then twice. Oh.

He clears his throat and raises his hand in an awkward half-wave. “Uh… Buckley?”

Robin startles, skidding to a halt mid-stride. “Munson?” Her brows knit together, like he’s the last person she expected to see outside of a mall.

Eddie shrugs, trying for nonchalance. “Didn’t peg you as the ice cream-scooping type.”

She eyes him, suspicious, like he’s just accused her of a federal crime. “Didn’t peg you as the mall-lurking type.”

“Touché,” Eddie says with a grin, but his brain’s already ten steps ahead, piecing things together. So she works here, too. Huh.

“Ice cream scooping builds character,” she deadpans, hoisting the bike upright and kicking the stand down with the tired grace of someone who’s done it a hundred times this week. “And comes with a free headache and a polyester uniform that smells like dairy trauma.”

Eddie chuckles, genuinely. “Sounds like a dream gig. Perks and everything.”

Robin snorts under her breath, her eyes briefly scanning him like she’s still trying to figure out why he’s talking to her at all. “You’re weirdly chill for someone who used to pretend I didn’t exist in school.”

He winces a little, scratching behind his ear. “Yeah. I was kind of an idiot back then.”

“You’re still kind of an idiot,” she shoots back automatically, but there’s zero bite in it—just familiarity. “Just one I don’t actively hate now. At least you didn’t go out of your way to make me feel like I didn’t matter.”

Eddie blinks. That… actually means something. More than he expected. This whole thing, talking to her without an agenda, without feeling like he has to prove something... is weirdly easy. Disarming, even.

“Well, I mean this,” he says slowly, like the words might evaporate if he doesn’t pin them down. “You’re... fun to talk to. Not a lot of people are.”

Robin slants a look at him, half amused, half surprised. “Don’t get soft on me, Munson. I already hit my quota of sincerity for the week.”

There’s a pause. Not awkward, just long enough to feel like something shifts between them. Then she tilts her head slightly. “You doing anything tomorrow?”

Eddie blinks. “Uh, probably pretending I have plans. Why?”

She shrugs, tugging at the strap on her bag. “Come by Scoops. I’m working open to close. Could use someone to distract me from ice cream horrors. Might as well be you.”

He lets out a laugh before he can stop it. “Is that a formal invitation to loiter?”

Robin nods with mock solemnity. “An elite pass. Wear something tragic. It’ll make Steve twitch.”

Steve? Eddie rolls the name around in his brain like a loose marble. Familiar, but unplaceable. Maybe her boss? Band kid? No—Robin would've rather eaten glass than hung with marching band.

The name lingers in that foggy, high school hallway way. Vaguely popular. Vaguely… pretty? He can almost conjure the outline of a face, just out of reach. Still, something about the casual way Robin said it makes Eddie’s curiosity flicker.

If this Steve guy is twitch-worthy material, he’s either important or very, very mockable. Either way? Eddie’s in.

He tells her as much, and the soft smile that flickers across her face makes the invitation feel… kind of like a win.

“Cool,” she says, backing away slowly. “Shift starts at eight, but I don’t really expect you to want to come then. Just show up whenever you feel like it.”

Eddie watches her hop on the bike and pedal off into the parking lot, her silhouette disappearing into the low orange haze of the streetlights. He stands there a beat longer, the corners of his mouth tugging up in spite of himself.

Okay. Tomorrow might be interesting after all.

After the short but very interesting conversation with the ever amazing Robin, he loops back around and starts walking towards his van again, hoping to get home so he can crash on his bed, maybe smoke a joint, especially since he walked out of the mall without buying any new music. Eddie loops the keyring twice around his finger as he walks.

By the time he reaches his van, the sky has dipped into full dusk, the parking lot mostly cleared out. He unlocks the door with a groan of hinges and swings himself inside, the familiar creak of the seat grounding him. The lights flick on with a dim buzz, washing the cab in that tired orange tone that makes everything look like an old photograph.

He pulls a cigarette from the box tucked under the visor, lighting it with practiced ease. The first drag quiets the leftover nervous energy coiling in his chest. He sinks back against the seat, exhales, and lets his eyes close for a breath.

Then, there’s that damn feeling again. He’s being watched.

Eddie cracks one eye open, glances to the side.

There, standing frozen in the middle of the lot like he forgot how walking works, is Steve Harrington.

Steve.

Fucking.

Harrington.

King of Hawkins High. It is then that Eddie registers the uniform for the second time in five minutes. Scoops Ahoy.

Fuck.

His fluffy hair peeking out from that ridiculous hat, brown eyes, wide and just a little too deer-in-headlights for someone who definitely initiated the staring contest.

Eddie doesn’t flinch. He’s too tired to flinch. Instead, he meets Steve’s gaze dead-on, a curl of smoke winding up from his lips. One eyebrow lifts, slow and deliberate.

And Harrington, bless his baffled soul, actually nods. Like this is normal. Like Eddie isn’t just a freak he had to put up with at school.

Eddie gives him the smallest of salutes—two fingers at the temple—and turns the volume dial a notch louder, “Holy Diver” by Dio spilling through the speakers. He shifts into reverse, lets the tires hum softly over the pavement as he pulls away, and doesn’t check the mirror.

But even as the mall fades behind him and the blur of neon settles into rearview ghosts, he can’t shake the image of Steve standing there, caught in the glow like someone out of a fever dream.

It’s official. Hawkins has gotten pretty fucking weird.

When Steve wakes up the next morning, it’s to the sudden realization that his alarm clock hasn’t gone off yet. No wonder he slept for so long. He picks up the wrist watch on his nightside stand and immediately jolts awake. He forgot to reset the alarm after the outage last night and now his shift at the mall starts in only twenty minutes.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit shit shit.

He rolls over in bed, the blankets tangling in his legs and he sits up at breakneck speed, falling off of the mattress.

He picks up the Scoops Ahoy uniform from the floor of his room where he discarded it last night, smells it, deems it acceptable, and throws it on over his body after taking off the clothes he slept in.

He stomps down the stairs to the kitchen to make himself some coffee, cursing when he decides he doesn’t have time. Damn. Caffeine might be the only thing keeping him alive at the moment, but it’s a risk he’s willing to take if he doesn’t lose his job.

Steve finds his shoes thrown haphazardly on the floor next to the front door, hopping on one foot at a time to slip them on.

He catches a glimpse of his face in the mirror near the door and grimaces at the sight. His face is a little bit squished from sleeping directly on it all night and his hair is… somewhat satisfactory, even if the bangs hang a little lower around his face than he would like. It doesn’t look bad, necessarily—

Wait. Where are his keys?

Steve runs back up the stairs and crashes into his door, landing inside his bedroom and rummaging chaotically through his bed sheets. He finds them, the familiar jingle being met with the fabric of his pocket. He sprints back down the stairs and out of the house, quickly locking the door behind him.

He speeds towards the mall and gets out of his Bimmer, picking up his embroidered Scoops Ahoy hat and getting out. Steve looks at his watch again. Dammit, he’s only got five minutes before his shift starts.

Steve runs through the mall and to the Scoops, bumping into people, being squeezed between them and saying, “Excuse me—sorry—oof,” more times than he cares to admit.

When he finally reaches the little ice cream parlor, he sees the two people he would rather not see at the moment:

1. Robin Buckley, and

2. Eddie Munson.

For the third fucking time in two days. He stops dead in his tracks, four steps from the inside of the shop. Robin must have heard his heavy breathing or noisy running, because from her spot behind the counter, she looks over Eddie’s shoulder and her eyes widen.

“Wow Harrington, you look like you just got ran over by a bus. I thought you weren’t even gonna show up today! I guess even I can get proven wrong sometimes.”

At that, Eddie turns around so fast that Steve is sure he probably gave himself whiplash. Eddie’s gaze lands on him, and for a moment, there’s a flash of recognition…. surprise? Amusement? It’s something Steve can’t quite read, but it makes his stomach twist all the same.

Steve takes a breath, trying not to look as winded as he feels, and wipes a bit of sweat off his temple with the collar of his uniform. His heart’s still racing, but now it’s less from the run and more from the situation he just walked into.

“Jesus,” Eddie mutters under his breath, barely audible over the chatter of mallgoers and the low hum of the emergency lights. “Is this guy haunting me now?”

Robin smirks, clearly catching that last bit, and leans her elbows onto the counter like she’s settling in to enjoy the show. “You two keep bumping into each other like it's fate or something.”

Steve is taken aback by the fact that Eddie had told her of the short run-in they had had last night. When did her shift even start? Doesn’t she have something better to do in the mornings? And, for another thing, since when were Robin and Eddie even friends? Steve shoots her a glare as he finally steps inside, the air-conditioned chill of the parlor hitting his sweat-sticky skin like a slap. He tries to avoid Eddie’s eyes, but it’s impossible: not when Eddie’s just standing there like he belongs, leaning on the opposite end of counter as Robin, arms crossed, eyebrow raised, that same smug look that says “what, me?”

It’s barely 9:30 a.m., and Steve’s already bracing for whatever else the day’s gonna throw at him.

Steve steps up to the counter, forcing on what he hopes passes for an unimpressed look, though he’s pretty sure the flushed cheeks and hair plastered to his forehead aren’t doing him any favors. He shifts his weight, eyes darting between Robin’s barely contained grin and Eddie’s infuriatingly casual posture. Today, Eddie is wearing a black Members Only style jacket (even though it’s summer, what the hell is he doing?) and is also wearing his ripped black jeans from the day before paired with a shirt underneath that says Metallica. His hair is now pulled into a messy high bun, and Steve doesn’t know why, but as soon as he registers that fact, he’s pretty sure he can’t breathe.

“I thought this place had a no loitering policy,” he says, faintly recovering, jerking his chin toward Eddie, crossing his arms as well.

Eddie, unfazed, shrugs with a lazy smirk. “Well, sweet Robin here gave me a formal pass,” he says, holding up the half-eaten cup of U.S.S. Butterscotch in his hand like it’s evidence.

Robin snorts and claps a hand over her mouth, but not before the sound escapes. “God, I wish I could get rid of both of you,” she mutters.

“Ohh stop, you love us and you know it, Buckley.” Eddie looks like he’s going to explode from joy, the teasing coming to him like second-nature.

Steve groans, running a hand down his face. “I’m gonna pretend I didn’t hear that. Both of you. Just—no.”

Robin starts humming the Jaws theme under her breath like she’s circling prey, and Eddie lifts his spoon in a mock salute, leaning on the counter with all the grace of someone who has zero intention of leaving. Steve rolls his eyes, even though the weight behind it is starting to fade.

He takes a breath, steadying himself for the shift ahead, but as he moves toward the freezer, he catches Eddie miming something ridiculous out of the corner of his eye, maybe pretending to polish the countertop like it’s an antique guitar. Whatever it is, it’s completely unnecessary. And stupid. And kind of hilarious.

But the corners of his mouth betray him, twitching upward before he can stop them. Damn it. He doesn’t want to be having fun, but he sort of, maybe, kinda is. That’s the problem with this stupid job, and with those two idiots standing behind the counter like they own the place. It’s supposed to be humiliating. But somehow, with them, it’s not as bad as it should be.

Eddie catches the small grin, of course, and gives him a mock bow. “I live to serve thee, King Steve,” he says, then flicks a little melted ice cream off his spoon.

Steve pauses at that. Why is Eddie calling him that? He hasn’t been called that by anyone in months. The last time he can remember someone calling him “King Steve” is when Billy was trying to rile him up, saying that he’d been waiting for that particular persona of Steve to show itself.

Robin leans over again, voice low but teasing so Eddie won’t hear: “You’re weirdly, like, totally red.”

“Shut up.”

Robin smirks yet again and stands up straight, throwing her hands up in a defensive way. She lets it go, not saying another word, for which Steve is grateful.

Steve just sighs, grabs the backup apron, and mutters, “This day is cursed.” But there’s no heat behind it; just that reluctantly amused tone.

“Soooooo, Steve. Why did you come in approximately two seconds before you shift started?” Robin asks, a mischievous undertone to her voice.

Steve shrugs, muttering something vague about how his alarm didn’t go off this morning.

“Oh, ‘cause of the power outage, right? Yeah, my mom had to basically drag me out of bed. I got here at eight.”

Well, that answers Steve’s earlier question. She really doesn’t have anywhere else to be. He honestly doesn’t know how she is so energized right now; she’s practically bouncing off the walls.

Eddie coughs, clearly finding it amusing that Steve overslept. Steve raises his eyebrows and glares at him. Despite the two of them not even talking before now, they all sort of descend into an easy flow of conversation.

“Something funny, Munson?”

Eddie waves his hand dismissively, saying, “Oh, no, not at all. We all need our beauty sleep after all.”

He winks at Robin, who giggles and shoves his arm lightly. Eddie then looks at Steve again, letting his gaze run up and down the wrinkled uniform Steve is wearing.

Holy shit. What is going on here?

If Steve were the type of person to make assumptions, he would say that Eddie was checking him out just now. But he’s not. And why would he? Eddie is a dude for God’s sake.

Steve shakes his head, resigning himself to just listen to their playful banter for the time being. He keeps himself busy by helping the customers, and Robin does occasionally help with the ice cream slinging, surprisingly. Steve really needs to stop using that word. He just needs to get used to everything about these past couple days being surprising at this point.

For the rest of the day, Eddie keeps Robin company. He’s just… hanging around. Robin even lets him come into the back room during her breaks, which Steve finds a little suspicious, if he’s telling the truth. Is there something going on between them? He can’t really figure out why, but that thought makes his stomach twist, and not in a good way. Sometimes, Steve catches a word of two from their never-ending conversation, the sarcastic lilt of Eddie’s voice becoming very familiar to him.

When a duo of pretty girls saunter into the little shop, Robin says to Eddie, “Oh! Oh! Quickly! Get the board over there! This is going to be amazing, just watch.”

Steve groans internally, knowing exactly what board she’s talking about. Robin has taken it upon herself to record the amount of times she counts as a win he has with any girl who comes into the parlor, and he’s pretty sure that under the “You Rule” category, he has exactly zero tally marks.

He busies himself with getting their orders, saying to the nearest girl, “Alrighty. One scoop of chocolate, that’s a buck-twenty-five.” He puts on his most charming smile and hands her the cone. “Anything else?”

She doesn’t answer, and the girl behind her just licks her ice cream, not making eye contact.

The girl wearing a Purdue t-shirt just gives him the cash and smiles, actually looking into his face.

He takes this as his chance to talk to her about something other than ice cream and says, “Ooh, Purdue. Fancy.”

She smiles even wider, telling him, “Yeah, I’m excited.”

Both girls chuckle. Now they aren’t looking at him. Damn.

“Yeah, you know, I considered it, Purdue, but then I was like, y’know what?” He lets his face drop into a serious expression, “I really think I need some real-life experience, you know, before I hit college, see what it feels like. Kinda like uh, I don’t know, see what it’s like to earn a working man’s wage, you know? Uh…”

The register starts beeping long and loud in front of him as he’s counting up her change and he says, “Oh, I’m sorry,” a bit more quietly/frantically. He knows he’s rambling now, but he can’t stop it. It’s like the flood gates of his own personal hell are bursting forth and he doesn’t know how to stop it.

He just decides to keep going with the whole college conversation and continues, “I think that’s, like, really important.”

The Purdue girl just smiles awkwardly and as if to just shut him up, says, “Yeah, totally.”

Steve keeps going.

“Yeah, anyways, this was, like, so fun. We should kinda like, I don’t know, maybe hang out this weekend or—”

As he’s handing her back her change, he accidentally drops some and the coins make dull clattering sounds as they hit the floor.

“—Oh, sorry about that. Uh… I don’t know, maybe next weekend or—”

She cuts him off, saying, “Yeah, I’m busy.” She lets out a breathy awkward little chuckle and continues to put her change into her purse, her friend behind her that hasn’t said a word the whole encounter just nodding her head patronizingly, agreeing with Purdue Girl.

He tries to keep the disappointment off of his face, and since it’s all gone to shit anyway, he just keeps running his fat mouth.

“Oh, that’s cool. I’m—I’m working here next weekend so…” he points to the ground as if to gesture to the store, “the following weekend’s better for me.”

“Uh, no. I’m sorry. I can’t.” All while keeping a little smile on her face and chuckling, she says, “Okay, thanks—"

He interrupts her quickly, saying, “I… This is… my first day here.” They both just keep chuckling, now walking away from him.

As soon as they leave, Steve sighs long, the agonizing reality of what he just did creeping in. He closes his eyes, knowing he’s gonna get it from Robin, and now from Eddie as well.

As if on cue, Robin’s annoying voice rings out from the window in the back room, the slide of the board meeting his ears as he turns around to face them both, Eddie hovering, hanging out at Robin’s shoulder.

“And another one bites the dust.” She reaches over, letting the board be shown to the entirety of the small store, which reads on one side “You Rule” and the other “You Suck”, and adding a sixth tally to the You Suck side.

“You are oh-for-six, Popeye.”

Eddie just grins, somewhat sympathetically, tilting his head to the side like a puppy. Which somehow makes Steve feel a little better. He tries to save the situation.

“Yeah. Yeah, I can count.” Steve says.

She looks bank down at the board as if to confirm the fact before she utters the data, saying, “You know that means you suck.”

She puts more emphasis on the last word, irritating Steve to no end.

“Yep, I can read, too.”

“Since when?”

Eddie bites back a laugh, clearly enjoying the show far too much. He picks up the dry erase marker Robin just used and spins it between his fingers like a drumstick, then without asking, adds a tiny doodle beneath Steve’s growing tally of shame. It’s a quick, sloppy sketch of a melting ice cream cone with X’s for eyes.

“There,” he says proudly, capping the marker with a little snap. “Visual aid. In case the numbers didn’t drive it home.”

Steve narrows his eyes. “You want a cone to the face?”

Eddie grins. “Depends. You giving away free samples now, Harrington?”

Robin snorts so hard Steve can practically see the metaphorical snot dripping from her nose. Eddie just leans his elbows on the counter like he’s settling in for a matinee performance, chin propped in both hands, completely unbothered.

“Man, this is better than cable,” he murmurs, mostly to himself, eyes twinkling like he’s waiting for Steve to dig himself a deeper hole.

Steve walks over and continues talking to them through the window.

“It’s this stupid hat. I’m telling you; it is totally blowing my best feature.”

Robin settles with an almost bored look on her face, saying sarcastically, “Yeah, company policy is a real drag.”

Steve looks down, running over the whole encounter with the two girls from before again, making himself cringe. Why the actual hell did he think that was gonna work?

Robin seems to sober up a little, trying to give him advice by saying, “You know, it’s a crazy idea, but have you considered… telling the truth?”

Steve looks at her dubiously, jumping at her with, “Oh, you mean, that I couldn’t even get into Tech and my douchebag dad’s trying to teach me a lesson, I make three bucks an hour, and I have no future? That truth?”

Eddie raises both eyebrows, leaning in and staring at Steve with a slightly stunned look on his features. “Damn, Harrington. You really just unloaded the whole trauma dump in the middle of the food court, huh?”

He holds up a mock microphone made from a rolled-up napkin and adds, “And that, ladies and gentlemen, was the sound of Steve's last shred of confidence flatlining.”

Robin groans. “Can you not encourage this level of self-pity?”

Eddie holds up his hands in surrender, but the grin stays. “Hey, sorry Birdie, I’m just here for the free entertainment.” He taps the counter with a finger, eyes flicking between the two of them. “But for what it’s worth? The hat’s tragic. You look like a patriotic gnome. Might be blocking your charisma flow.”

Steve stares at him, confusion rippling from his hunched-over frame. “Charisma flow?”

Eddie nods solemnly. “Yep. Hat’s like a dam. Gotta let the charm breathe, man.”

Robin seems to come to herself and points behind Steve, a smile lighting up her face and says, “Hey, twelve o’clock.”

Steve quickly looks behind him to see more girls coming in, looking around and chewing bubblegum. The girl in front looks uninterested and skeptical, but she is really pretty.

“Oh, shit. Oh, shit. Okay… Uh… I’m going in, okay?” Steve tries to summon all the confidence he can, “And you know what?” He snatches the Scoops Ahoy hat from his head and tosses it out of sight, not really caring where it ends up. “Screw company policy.”

“Oh my God, you’re a whole new man,” Robin says while shaking her head back and forth like she can’t believe he did that.

Steve says playfully, “Right? Oohhh,” and wiggles his shoulders from side to side in a little dance. Robin chuckles fondly and Eddie just nods and grins encouragingly from behind her, lifting both his hands up and giving him a double thumbs-up. He holds it a beat too long—just enough for it to border on ridiculous—before dropping his hands back to the counter.

And in that flicker between expressions, Steve catches something he wasn’t meant to see. The grin fades, not entirely, but enough. Just the tiniest dip around the corners of Eddie’s mouth, a shadow behind the eyes that slips out before the mask slides back into place.

It’s gone so fast, Steve almost wonders if he imagined it.

Eddie casually leans back again, arms folding as he watches Steve turn toward the girls, a teasing tilt still on his face. Then, as Steve turns to make his approach, Eddie straightens up and casually plucks a stray sprinkle from the counter, examining it like it’s the most fascinating object in the universe. He flicks it away, leans back against the window frame, and settles in, arms folded, ankle hooked over the opposite foot, ready to witness whatever chaos Steve is about to unleash.

Because, if nothing else, Eddie Munson is a sucker for a good show.

Steve gets ready and turns around, shouting, “Ahoy ladies! Didn’t see you there.”

The girl at the front gasps loudly, probably because he shouted, and just chews her gum more viciously.

“Would you guys like to set sail on this ocean of flavor with me? I’ll be your captain… I’m Steve Harrington.”

He knows he’s laying it on a little thick, but he doesn’t care at this point. He’s just trying to make Eddie and Robin laugh in the back.

The girl in front of him says, “Oh, God,” because she probably can’t believe what she just witnessed.

“Can I get you guys a taste of Cherries Jubilee? No? Anybody? Banana Boat? Four people, four spoons? Share it in the booth? Anybody? It's hot out there.”

He bites his lip, cringing just a little at the words coming out of his own mouth, but the moment he hears Eddie’s cackling laugh from the window behind him, sharp and unfiltered, something settles in his chest.

Yeah, okay, that was humiliating. But it worked.

His face is red, sure, but not from embarrassment, not entirely. That laugh—Eddie’s laugh—makes the rest of it worth it.

Even with the girls staring at him like he’d grown a second head, he finds himself grinning, pride slipping through the cracks.

He’ll take the weird looks, the eye rolls, all of it, if it means he would get to hear that sound again. And it doesn’t even matter if Dustin never came to see him today. Steve has a great time with Eddie and Robin for the rest of his shift.

Silently, Robin just adds another tally mark onto the You Suck side, smiling to herself.

Eddie wakes up the following morning after his chat with Robin to the sun blinding him through the window in his room. He had totally forgotten to close the window after letting the smoke from his blunt trail out, falling asleep with the window open. He props himself up on his elbows, stomach down on the mattress. Eddie runs his hands up and down his face, rubbing the sleep off of his features.

The memory of Robin’s invitation drifts in as Eddie stirs, dragging him out of sleep with a jolt of something between excitement and nerves. He pushes himself upright, blankets sliding down around his waist, exposing the black tank top that's ridden up a little over his stomach.

He sits on the edge of the bed, bare feet brushing the cool floor, and glances at the clock on his dresser. 8:20 AM, on the dot. He knows Robin’s probably already manning the counter, bored out of her mind and waiting for some kind of distraction.

“Now or never,” he mumbles to himself, standing with a stretch that sends a chorus of satisfying cracks up his spine. As he gets up, the pajama pants hanging low on his hips, he stumbles toward the closet, grabbing the first clean outfit that doesn’t smell like it’s been through a landfill.

He pauses afterward, planted in the middle of his room, arms overhead as he yawns. The messy bun he put up the night before is still hanging in there, and when he catches sight of it in the mirror, he decides—yeah, it works. Lazy, but untidy in an attractive way. Good enough.

Shuffling into the kitchen, Eddie moves on autopilot toward the coffee maker. The trailer is too quiet. Wayne still isn’t back from the night shift at the plant.

That’s when Eddie spots the note taped to the fridge, scrawled in his uncle’s blocky handwriting:

Ed,
Be back around 9. Don’t get into any trouble; no parties.
Take care of yourself,
Wayne

“Parties at 8:59, got it,” Eddie mutters with a small smirk, tapping his finger against the sticky note, setting the coffee to brew. He knows his uncle means 9 a.m., but he’s alone and doesn’t care if he makes stupid comments to himself, no one else is around to hear them.

By the time he’s downed the scalding-hot drink, there’s a little more purpose in his step. He shrugs on the first jacket he finds and heads out the door, heart just a little faster than it should be.

He’s going to see Steve again today.

And maybe this time, he’ll keep it together. Maybe.

When he reaches Starcourt Mall, Eddie makes a beeline for Scoops Ahoy. It’s 8:40 when he catches sight of Robin inside, already behind the counter in full uniform. She brightens when she sees him and waves him in like she’s been expecting him all morning. He steps through the door with a smirk and a lazy salute. “Even though it’s, like, the butt crack of dawn, I should totally hook myself up with some ice cream. Prime method for achieving sugar-fueled enlightenment. Highly underrated.”

Robin snorts at the stupidity of his comment, scooping a napkin off the counter and flicking it at him. “You don’t even work here.”

Eddie just grins wider. “Doesn’t mean I can’t boost morale.”

Despite Eddie’s remark, she decides to get his some of the frozen treat, assuring him that she can eat as much as she wants as an employee and it won’t come out of her paycheck. Eddie and Robin sit chatting for at least thirty minutes before Eddie decides to tell her about his interaction with Steve the night before. She had told him that Steve was coming in for his shift at 9:30, so they had time to talk a little in private before he shows up.

“Whoa, seriously? He just stood there, like a total idiot?”

“Well—I didn’t say that” Eddie rolls his eyes. She interrupts him with an offhanded “could’ve fooled me” and Eddie scoffs, a light smile playing on his lips.

“So, what happened then? Did you guys end up talking at all?”

“No, I remember just lighting up my cigarette and I was like, ‘Oh shit, I feel like I’m being watched’ so I looked around and there he was. I saw both of you in here last night too, I was across there in the music store. Stealth level ten, by the way. You had no idea I was there.” He points to the other store without looking, Robin’s eyes flashing with recognition as she nods. “Problem was, I didn’t know it was him; his back was turned. Who knew, King Steve working a minimum wage job at a mall scooping ice cream? Definitely not me.”

He snorts and leans in a little, as if letting Robin in on a secret. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, the whole sailor getup?" Eddie pops an invisible collar and shoots her a wink. “Honestly, it’s kind of the best thing I’ve seen in weeks.”

Eddie can’t really figure out why but just knows he can trust her with this. They’ve never really talked, especially not out of school, but he always got a certain… feeling from her. He’s pretty sure the fact of his attraction to men isn’t a total secret to the town, but it’s never actually been confirmed. All the same, he plays if off as a joke to soften the blow if she ends up not being comfortable with it.

She softens instantly, understanding painting her features. Not the awkward kind of realization, but the kind that says yeah, I get you. She leans on the counter, chin in hand, and for a second, Eddie’s sure she’s about to tease him. But instead, she just lets the silence settle, giving him the space to breathe through the vulnerability without making it weird.

"Eddie, I think we’re in the same boat. Not about Steve—I mean, God no. I barely liked him in high school. He was a total dick." She pauses, eyes flicking to his, then away again. "But… you get what I’m trying to say, right?” She shrugs, casual on the outside, but her voice softens at the edges. "It’s not like I had some grand coming-out moment either. Just sort of… figured it out while pretending I hadn’t. Until I couldn’t anymore."

He nods. The air around them is so comforting, and Eddie feels seen in ways he hasn’t for a long time. Robin’s smile is sweet and supportive, exactly what they both need.

“You’ve got good taste,” she says lightly, but there’s a lilt in her voice, something just shy of caution.

Eddie raises an eyebrow. “But?”

“Just... be careful around him, okay? He’s figuring stuff out. In his own head.. And he’s not always great at reading signs that aren’t screaming neon. For all I know, he’s probably straight as a ruler.”

It’s not a warning exactly, more like a nudge. A reminder that however easy Steve might be on the eyes, he’s still a bit of a mess behind them.

Eddie nods slowly, dragging his finger along a stripe in the counter laminate. “Yeah. I kinda figured.”

“I’m only telling you this because I care about you. I want you to know what you’re getting into before he goes and does something to hurt you.”

There’s no judgment in her tone. Just quiet encouragement. And maybe that’s what strikes Eddie the most, how easy it is to talk to her, how naturally she met him right where he was without making him spell anything out.

He grins again, this time with a little less defensiveness. “Still, can’t say the uniform’s not doing him favors.”

Robin snorts. “Just don’t swoon. You’ll never live it down.”

Eddie smiles, a real one, that little flicker of warmth still buzzing under his ribs. Maybe trusting her wasn’t such a wild move after all.

They keep talking for about twenty minutes, the sudden realization creeping into Eddie that Steve should be getting here soon.

Sure enough, when Robin looks over Eddie’s shoulder and quips, “Wow Harrington, you look like you just got ran over by a bus. I thought you weren’t even gonna show up today! I guess even I can get proven wrong sometimes,” Eddie turns around so fast he nearly gives himself whiplash. And then—bam—there’s Steve. Eyes half-lidded with sleep, blinking at him like he’s not entirely convinced this isn’t a dream. Steve’s face, slightly squished from sleep… it’s adorable. No, seriously, it’s criminally adorable. Eddie has never in his life seen anything as devastatingly cute as Steve Harrington in this state: the rumpled sailor outfit, the hair trailing into his eyes, the hat held slack in his hand… Eddie might explode. Maybe a little dramatic.

It takes a second, but Eddie clocks the look in Steve’s eyes, a breathless pause. Definitely from running, which is obviously what he’s been doing. The surprise that’s half-recognition and half what the hell is he doing here?

Eddie smirks, the beginning of a comment already forming in his head when he catches the way Steve’s eyes dart across the shop—like he’s assessing whether this is a dream or a social ambush. His collar’s pulled up as he wipes sweat from his temple, chest rising like he’d sprinted through the mall just to arrive a minute before his shift (which he probably did).

Eddie murmurs under his breath, “Jesus. Is this guy haunting me now?” but wanting to say something completely different.

Robin hears. Of course she hears. She leans her elbows on the counter, looking entirely too pleased. “You two keep bumping into each other like it's fate or something,” she says, grinning like a cat with a secret. Eddie doesn’t respond. Just shrugs and looks back at Steve, who’s finally walked in, arms crossed, head high, trying and failing to look unimpressed. He looks like a mess, but the kind of mess Eddie wouldn’t mind seeing more of.

Stop it, Eddie, his subconscious screams at him.

And when Steve looks at Eddie, whose arms are folded, a half-eaten cup of U.S.S. Butterscotch in hand, posted up behind the counter like he belongs there, there’s a flicker behind his eyes. Like annoyance but confused by something warmer underneath.

Steve jerks his chin toward him. “I thought this place had a no loitering policy.”

Eddie grins, raising his cup like it’s a badge. “Well, sweet Robin here gave me a formal pass.”

Robin nearly chokes trying not to laugh. “God, I wish I could get rid of both of you,” she mutters, rubbing her temples.

“Ohh stop, you love us and you know it, Buckley.” Eddie teases.

Steve groans and runs a hand down his face like he’s aged five years in five minutes. “I’m gonna pretend I didn’t hear that. Both of you. Just—no.”

Robin starts humming the Jaws theme under her breath, probably hoping to summon chaos, and Eddie adds to the performance by mock-polishing the counter like it’s a cursed relic he’s been hired to protect.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees it. Steve’s lips twitching. The guy’s fighting a smile. He doesn’t win.

Eddie bows dramatically. “I live to serve thee, King Steve.”

That lands harder than he meant it to. The words hang a second too long in the air. Steve freezes, like the name caught him off guard. The guy probably hasn’t heard it in a while.

Robin leans toward Steve, voice a little too loud for subtlety, like she’s convinced Eddie can’t hear her. “You’re weirdly, like, totally red.”

Steve huffs. “Shut up.”

Eddie watches, amused, as Steve grabs his apron with a muttered, “This day is cursed.” He says it like he’s trying to mean it but he’s already lost the battle.

Robin turns on Steve the second he’s in uniform. “Soooooo, Steve. Why did you come in approximately two seconds before your shift started?”

Steve offers some vague excuse about alarms and Eddie coughs, not even trying to hide his grin.

“Something funny, Munson?” Steve asks.

“Oh, no, not at all,” Eddie says innocently. “We all need our beauty sleep, after all.”

He shoots Robin a wink, who giggles and shoves his arm, grinning like she knows exactly where his thoughts are drifting.

Eddie doesn’t even pretend to be subtle about it. His gaze slides back to Steve, slow and deliberate, dragging down the length of him like he’s studying a painting he’s not quite ready to stop looking at.

The wrinkled uniform clings in all the wrong—and therefore completely right—places. The collar frames his neck like a dare. His hair, flattened in some parts and starting to curl from the heat and sweat in others, makes Eddie want to reach out and see if it feels as soft as it looks.

And the worst part? Steve has the audacity to stretch. Just a lazy roll of the shoulders, like he’s got no idea what he’s doing, like he’s not slowly unspooling every thought Eddie’s managed to hold onto since walking in.

He presses his tongue to the inside of his cheek and tears his eyes away, barely. His fingers twitch.

Robin catches the look and arches a brow like she’s already preparing a comment she’ll save for later—maybe. If she’s feeling merciful.

Eddie knows Steve sees the once-over. Knows it lands, hard. And Steve blinks like maybe he didn’t expect to be seen, let alone noticed.

Eddie keeps himself casual after that, anchored at the counter while Robin works and Steve tries very hard to pretend that he’s not rattled.

They slip into something weirdly easy. Banter comes naturally, like they’ve all done this a hundred times before. Robin lets Eddie wander into the back with her during breaks, and every now and then, Eddie catches Steve eyeing them with that quiet, unreadable stare.

Does Steve think there something going on between him and Robin? Eddie can’t tell if it’s suspicion or something else, and frankly, it’s not his job to untangle whatever weird dynamic they have. But still, the thought needles him.

Eventually, two pretty girls step into the shop and Robin lights up with mischief.

“Oh! Oh! Quickly! Get the board over there! This is going to be amazing, just watch.”

Eddie obeys, grabbing her tally board and settling in to observe the slow-motion trainwreck.

Steve puts on his customer service smile and starts his routine. It’s painful to watch.

Eddie sips his melted ice cream with a front-row seat, barely holding in his laughter as Steve drops coins on the floor and stumbles through awkward pickup attempts like it’s his first day on earth.

When Steve mutters that it’s his “first day here,” Eddie nearly chokes on his spoon.

The girls walk away and the silence that follows is brutal. Steve just stands there for a moment, his whole face screaming regret.

As if summoned by cosmic humiliation, Robin’s voice cuts through the air from the back window with perfect, theatrical timing. Eddie’s already leaning there, comfortably posted up at her shoulder with his chin resting on folded arms, when she slides the tally board into view.

“And another one bites the dust,” she says with gleeful venom, tallying a sixth shameful mark on the You Suck side of the board. “You are oh-for-six, Popeye.”

Eddie glances at Steve, who looks about two seconds from combusting on the spot. He offers a soft, crooked smile. Tilts his head like a puppy trying to figure out why its owner keeps walking into glass doors.

“Yeah. Yeah, I can count,” Steve mutters, attempting recovery.

Robin peers at the board with mock concentration. “You know that means you suck.”

She lands the word like it deserves its own paragraph. Eddie bites the inside of his cheek.

“Yep, I can read, too,” Steve replies.

Robin doesn’t skip a beat. “Since when?”

Eddie plucks the dry erase marker from her hand and twirls it like a drumstick, then, just because it feels right, adds a small doodle under Steve’s sad stack of tallies: a melting ice cream cone, complete with X’s for eyes and a cartoonishly dramatic frown.

“There,” Eddie says, clicking the cap back on with flair. “Visual aid. In case the numbers didn’t drive it home.”

Steve narrows his eyes. “You want a cone to the face?”

“Depends. You giving away free samples now, Harrington?”

That gets Robin snorting, one of those full-body, can’t-control-it reactions that Eddie lives for.

“Man, this is better than cable,” he mutters. He means it, too, Steve in flustered-mode is like a guilty pleasure rom-com come to life. He knows his eyes probably show how starstruck he is, but he doesn’t really care at the moment.

Steve tries to regain ground, gesturing at the ridiculous hat smothering his hair. “It’s this stupid hat. I’m telling you; it is totally blowing my best feature.”

Robin shoots back, deadpan: “Yeah, company policy’s a real drag.”

Eddie watches Steve deflate slightly, embarrassment sagging his shoulders. Whatever happened with those girls clearly got under his skin. Eddie tilts his head again, his smirk fading slowly until it’s completely gone.

Robin softens, too. “You know, it’s a crazy idea, but have you considered… telling the truth?”

Steve’s sarcasm snaps back out like a reflex. “Oh, you mean, that I couldn’t even get into Tech and my douchebag dad’s trying to teach me a lesson, I make three bucks an hour, and I have no future? That truth?”

Eddie actually reels back a little, eyebrows high. “Damn, Harrington. You really just unloaded the whole trauma dump in the middle of the food court, huh?”

He grabs a napkin, rolls it tight like a microphone, and leans forward theatrically. “And that, ladies and gentlemen, was the sound of Steve’s last shred of confidence flatlining.”

Robin groans. “Can you not encourage this level of self-pity?”

Eddie holds up his hands, expression innocent. “Hey, I’m just here for the free entertainment.” He taps the counter with a finger, eyes flicking between the two of them. “But for what it’s worth? The hat’s tragic. You look like a patriotic gnome. Might be blocking your charisma flow.”

Steve glares at him. “Charisma flow?”

Eddie nods, serious as ever. “Yep. Hat’s like a dam. Gotta let the charm breathe, man.”

Robin suddenly perks up and points. “Hey, twelve o’clock.”

Eddie looks up as well. A group of girls are strolling in, bubblegum popping, already looking unimpressed.

“Oh, shit. Oh, shit,” Steve mutters. Then louder: “Okay… Uh… I’m going in, okay? And you know what?” Just like that, he rips the Scoops hat off like it personally offended his ancestors. “Screw company policy.”

Eddie almost slow-claps. Robin just shakes her head sarcastically. “Oh my God, you’re a whole new man.”

Steve grins. “Right? Oohhh,” he says, doing a ridiculous little shoulder shimmy.

Eddie lifts both hands and gives him an exaggerated double thumbs-up. He holds the pose until it goes from encouraging to absurd, then drops his hands and leans back, but not before his grin slips, just for a second.

It’s not much. Just a flicker of… something. Longing? Resignation? He swallows it down and props himself against the window frame, legs crossed, pretending like he didn’t even feel it.

He can see in Steve’s eyes that he saw Eddie’s face but doesn’t fully know the meaning of the expression behind it. Steve doesn’t ask about it, he just lingers there for a beat too long, like he’s filing it away for later. Noticing, but not pushing. Eddie lets out a quiet breath and looks away first.

He busies himself by picking a rogue sprinkle off the counter and flicking it like a coin, then glances up just in time to hear Steve shouting, “Ahoy ladies! Didn’t see you there!”

Steve keeps going with the bit, laying it on thick: the sailing metaphors, the over-the-top charm, the ice cream flavors turned into desperate pleas. It’s a slow-motion car crash, but somehow... completely endearing. Eddie can’t take it anymore and he laughs, more like a cackle, and knows he’s in deep shit.

And yeah, it’s ridiculous. But the moment Eddie laughs, really laughs, something shifts in the air. He watches Steve grin at the sound like he’s been trying to earn it all morning. Eddie can’t help but feel like Steve had done it for him.

God, he's in so much fucking trouble.

He leans back into the frame, still laughing, reaching around his stomach because he’s laughing so hard it’s starting to hurt.

From the corner of his eye, he sees Robin silently reach for the marker and add one more tally to the “You Suck” column, smiling to herself as she does.

Eddie says nothing. He just watches Steve and it’s as if Steve knows what he’s doing to Eddie.

Chapter Text

Steve is back at the Scoops today. It is the third day Steve has seen Eddie since the first glimpse he got of him across the mall. He's not sure how to explain it without sounding like a total idiot; he barely knows the guy. But something about the way Eddie looks at and talks to him has been echoing in his head ever since. Today though, he is hoping that Dustin will come visit him since he’s been back a whole day from camp. Steve knows he was hanging out with the other kids yesterday, so he isn’t too bothered that the kid didn’t show up. Steve isn’t Dustin’s only friend after all.

Right now, he’s back in the breakroom at the mall, listening to Robin take orders through the thin wall. He is so incredibly bored right now. With vague disappointment, he thinks that he should maybe start bringing something to do with him on his breaks, because there is no way in hell he’s going back out there to sling more ice cream.

So, when Eddie’s humor-filled voice carries from the front, he listens attentively, his ears pricking for the sound of the voice he has heard so many times in the past two days. Obviously, Eddie came back today to hang out with Robin again.

When he had gotten there earlier this morning, he saw Eddie’s white high-top Reeboks and long hair before he even stepped into the shop. For whatever reason, he found himself teasing the other boy before he could stop himself.

“Don’t you have something better to do than hang out at an ice cream parlor all day, Munson?”

Eddie turned to face him from where he stood at the counter, grinning at Steve.

“Not in the slightest, my liege. Unlike you two hardworking citizens, I don’t actually have an ‘occupation’.” He lifts both hands in quotation marks, rolling his eyes. “So, it’s either this or my trailer. And I think, quite understandably, I chose this.”

The grin stays, stare flicking over Steve again.

“Well, knock yourself out, man. Neither of us are going anywhere, so—” He takes a deep breath, cutting himself off and not finishing his sentence. He wasn’t sure what he had been planning on saying, but it seemed right to quit while he was ahead.

Steve looks at the boy, studying his appearance. Eddie seemed to have wised up about his clothing options and worn something a little more appropriate for the Hawkins summer heat. A denim vest covered in patches and pins from different bands hangs around Eddie’s shoulders, layered on top of a black t-shirt. He wears long jean shorts with many pockets that reach his knees, ripped at the bottom with the fraying edge leaving threads falling against his calves. He wears black Converse shoes, the laces on them dirtied and the plastic edges cut off but otherwise intact. Steve then notices the fact that some of Eddie’s tattoos are now visible, the other times he’s seen him he had them covered up or was too far away for Steve to be able to actually see the designs.

On the front side of his right arm, there is a cluster of small bats, an eerie tilt to the direction of the pattern. Steve wonders what it means and sees another spot of ink trailing underneath the arm leaning on the counter (which is Eddie’s tendency to do now). He couldn’t see it though, and as soon as the disappointment from that thought hits him, he also realizes with a jolt that he’s been staring at Eddie for far too long for it to be seen as “normal.”

Steve’s eyes jerk up to Eddie’s, the deep brown of the other’s making him freeze. How could Steve not notice the color of Eddie’s eyes until right now? It seems like now that he knows what they look like, he can never go back to the blissful ignorance he once experienced.

Eddie didn’t seem to notice however and just looked right back at Steve, an amiable grin dancing around the corners of his eyes. Steve takes a couple steps back, scratching the back of his head and finally looking away.

Eddie spoke up while Robin stood behind the counter, watching the conversation, for once not saying anything.

“Say, Harrington… do you think flamingos ever get embarrassed by how pink they are, or do they just own it like you do with the hat?”

This had thrown Steve completely off-guard. Eddie seems to enjoy making Steve totally bewildered. He looks up at the boy at the counter, flustered and looking into his face for answers.

Steve blinked slowly, already regretting making eye contact.

“I hate you.” Steve muttered, but there was no malice behind the sentiment. A little grin had sparked across his face, and he tried to hide it by raising his eyebrows. Real mature, Steve, I think you got him with that one, he thought to himself.

Eddie clasped his hands over his heart in mock offense, a pitying plead to his eyes. “Why? I’m so lovely.”

“You’re totally random, that’s what you are. I haven’t even been here for five minutes and you’re already trying to kill me with your stupid questions.”

“Oh, but Harrington,” Eddie said, dragging out the ‘n’ in Steve’s last name. “I think you like being confused by me.”

“What in the world could possibly make you think that?” Steve asks incredulously.

“Just the way your eyes fill with fear every time I ask you one.” Eddie grins maniacally, exchanging a wide-eyed look with Robin.

Steve scoffs. “Usually, fear is the only emotion people are feeling when they talk to you, Munson.” Steve rolled his eyes and finally walked closer to the counter to put on his apron and get to work.

“You flatter me.”

After a while, Steve had excused himself for his break and retreated to the back room. He had barricaded himself against the door, closing his eyes. He finds himself replaying his and Eddie’s conversation in his head. So, the breakroom is where Steve has been for the last half-hour, lost in thought about his stupid job, his stupid parents, the kids, and his newfound (and quite frankly surprising) friendship with Eddie.

Steve had actually had time to wake up this morning, his shift starting at 10:45 a.m. today, so he had decided to go for a short run, take a shower, and then style his hair. The run had been nice. Steve is trying to get back into some physical activity, if only for the fact that it makes him feel good. Not running, per say, he kinda would much rather go for a swim at Lover’s Lake, but he hadn’t had the time. Steve loves going to the lake, because it’s quieter and so peaceful, not at all like the community pool where it seems like every single kid in Hawkins goes. Plus, now that he’s out of high school, he likes to try to avoid the kids from his graduating class.

This includes Billy Hargrove, who works as a lifeguard at the pool. Steve is still a little humiliated about the fact that Billy had totally kicked his ass last year, but that’s not the only reason he wants to steer clear of him: Billy is just a total douchebag. Steve knows that there is probably a reason for that but doesn’t trust himself not to do stupid shit around him. The guy probably already has a bunch of crap to deal with and Steve doesn’t think that sticking himself into the mix is the best idea. If he’s being honest with himself, he does it for Max. He’s seen the way Billy has treated her and wishes she could have a better older brother figure. Selfishly, Steve can’t help but wish that it could be him. It’s one of the reasons he lets all the kids come and see infinite movies for free, even if it puts his job at risk. The other reason is Will. Even with Will safely out of the danger that comes with the Upside Down, Steve finds himself worrying about both him and Mrs. Byers as well. He’s just thankful Robin hasn’t told their superiors about the obvious rule-breaking, because he knows that she knows about it.

Now, as Steve listens to Eddie teasing Robin for her lifeless personality when handing out the ice cream to customers, he stifles a laugh, grinning despite himself.

“You’ve got all the charm of a DMV pamphlet, Buckley.” Eddie’s voice lilts with faux concern as Steve tries to contain his amusement from behind the wall. Steve sinks lower in the breakroom chair, arms crossed, head tipped back against the wall and eyes closed like he’s trying not to care, but his ears are tuned in with traitorous precision.

He knows that voice too well by now. The rhythm of Eddie’s speech, the way it rises just slightly when he’s trying to get under someone’s skin but still teasing. It’s not the first time Steve’s caught himself leaning in (mentally, at least) whenever Eddie talks. Something about the way he fills a room without even trying.

Steve frowns and kicks lightly at the leg of the table in front of him, watching the way the metal scrapes away from him, the screech of steel on floor loud enough to wake the dead.

It’s stupid. It’s probably nothing. Eddie’s like this with everyone, right? The eye contact, the nicknames, the flirting, the standing way too close just because he can. That’s what guys like Eddie do. He sees him do it to Robin, for Christ’s sake. Still, Steve can’t help but think about how Eddie had looked at him when he walked in earlier. Like he’d been waiting. And maybe Steve didn’t mind being looked at like that.

He lets out a slow breath through his nostrils, running both of his hands down his face. Steve leans forward in his seat and bangs his head on the table. He has so many questions about what he’s feeling right now. It’s all so stupid. Steve shoves it down, towards the back of his mind. It’s not important.

Anyway, it’s either go back out there or stew in his own brain for the rest of the break, and honestly? Eddie Munson is confusing as hell, but boredom is worse.

At least with Eddie, there's something to figure out.

Just then, he hears a different voice. A more familiar one, one with a lisp.

It’s slightly muffled through the wall as it says, “Hi!” to Robin. Steve can practically hear Robin’s defeated expression as she says, “Hi,” back.

Steve almost laughs. He knows she can’t deal with this right now, and it’s hilarious. For Steve, probably for Eddie, but definitely not for Robin.

He hears the voice again, confirming his assumption of his friend coming to visit him: “I’m Dustin.” Steve’s whole body lights up, a huge smile making its way onto his face.

“I’m Robin.” She draws out the ‘m’ for longer than needed, clearly annoyed.

“Aaaaand I’m Eddie.” Eddie says unnecessarily, no doubt grinning at the kid, obviously enjoying the chaos of the moment.

Steve shoots up, walking swiftly to the door to go out to the parlor.

He hears Dustin’s voice again, saying, “Pleasure to meet you both. Uh, is—is he here?”

Robin returns with, “Is who here?” just as Steve bounds through the swinging door, a smile already plastered to his face. Eddie flinches at the velocity of Steve’s abrupt appearance but softens once he realizes who it is.

“Henderson.”

Steve points up at the ceiling in triumph, and Dustin turns, laughing joyfully, pointing at Steve in return. They both wear matching grins.

Steve does a little jump, saying, “Henderson! He’s back! He’s back!”

Dustin reiterates, “I’m back!” then points out the Scoops Ahoy menu above Robin’s head. “You got the job!”

“I got the job!” Steve starts imitating a trumpet with his hands and sees Eddie from the corner of his eye smiling at the energetic reunion.

He practically skips over to Dustin and grabs his hand, initiating the movements for their handshake. “Hey! Oh!”

They go through their extremely elaborate handshake, and Steve is pleasantly surprised he remembered how to do it.

Then, when Dustin holds up an imaginary lightsaber with both hands, Steve copies him, both making whooshing sounds as they play fight with the pretend swords. Dustin feigns stabbing Steve with his, and Steve keeps the joke going, groaning and showing with his hands how his fictitious guts are pouring out of his stomach. He’s still laughing along with Henderson, clutching his imaginary wound with one hand while reaching out dramatically with the other.

He drops to one knee with exaggerated flair, gasping out, “Tell Max… I always loved her taste in music,” before collapsing on the linoleum with a wheeze of laughter.

Dustin nearly falls over himself laughing.

Steve glances up and sees Eddie still grinning at him from behind the counter, head tilted, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes.

Robin speaks up, disappointment dripping from her voice and face as Steve gets to his feet, grinning, the kid still chuckling.

“How many children are you friends with?”

Steve sighs and wipes his nose with the back of his hand in defeat, gesturing at Robin with his arm as if to say to Dustin: You see what I’ve had to deal with?

“Honestly, Robin, I don’t choose the children. They find me. They’re like emotionally stunted magnets.” He reaches around and grabs Dustin’s shoulders with his arm, squeezing the kid in a side hug while looking at the pair behind the counter.

Eddie lets out a cough that sounds suspiciously like a laugh, and Steve smirks, already feeling ten feet taller.

He turns back toward Dustin with a conspiratorial glint in his eye, shaking his shoulder with a one-handed grip. "Let’s go get you some ice cream. Robin can sit back here and reflect on her lack of charm."

Eddie tilts his head, smirking. "I would ask for you to introduce us Harrington, but we already got it covered before you got here.”

He pops another spoonful of ice cream into his mouth casually, winking.

Steve ignores him, but he can feel the tips of his ears turning red in a blush.

~-<O>-~

He gets Dustin an ice cream sundae and they sit in a booth, away from Eddie and Robin, who continue to talk to each other.

Dustin starts telling him about his time at camp. Dustin launches into a rapid-fire recap, barely pausing for air. He talks about the lake that smelled weird in the mornings, a prank war that got out of hand by the second week, and the time his bunkmate thought raccoons were government spies. Steve listens, half amused, as the kid waves his arms for emphasis, and eventually mentions a girlfriend.

A girlfriend! Dustin has a girlfriend. For real. Her name is Suzie. She sounds like a really sweet girl. Steve is shocked at first, but it starts to sink in quickly.

“No, no way.” Steve chuckles disbelievingly as they talk about her, “Hotter than Phoebe Cates? No.”

Dustin, with his mouth full of ice cream, says, “Mhmm. Brilliant, too. And she doesn’t even care that my real pearls are coming in.” He gestures to his mouth, to where Steve knows the braces sit. He continues, “She says kissing is better without teeth.” As if he himself couldn’t even believe she had actually said that.

Steve nods, his mouth hanging open with a small shocked smile.

He pauses, trying to figure out what to say to that.

He eventually decides on, “Wow. Yeah, that’s great. Proud of you, man. That’s ro—that’s kinda romantic. That’s like—wow."

He’s lying through his teeth, but Dustin doesn’t seem to care, he just eats more ice cream and says, “Hm,” affectionately.

“Do you really just get to eat as much of this as you want?” Dustin asks.

Steve inclines his head, considering the question.

“Yeah. I mean, sure. It’s not really a good idea for me, though. Gotta keep in shape for the ladies.”

Robin, obviously eavesdropping, says quickly, “Yeah? And how’s that working out for you?” She walks away, picking up trash with a smirk on her face.

Eddie licks his spoon, glancing up like he’s still deciding if Steve is serious. Then, with a dry tilt of his head: “Yeah, man. The getup is definitely doing things to the babes. Real heartthrob material. Gotta respect the confidence.” He winks, turning his head to the side with extra flair like he’s doing Steve a favor by humoring the delusion.

Steve immediately mutters to Dustin, “Ignore them.”

Dustin just smiles, letting Steve know he shouldn’t be embarrassed. “They seem cool.”

Steve just shoots back, “They’re not.” He changes the subject, leaning back onto the booth. “So, where are the other knuckleheads?”

Dustin nods solemnly, not quite reaching Steve’s eyes as he says sadly, “They uh... they ditched me yesterday.”

Steve can’t believe what he’s hearing and sits up again, leaning towards the kid. “No.”

Dustin agrees, adding, “My first day back. Can you believe that shit?”

“Whoa. Seriously?” Steve asks disbelievingly. 

“I swear to God.” Dustin puts another bite of ice cream into his mouth and seems to remember something exciting. “Mm! They’re gonna regret it, though, big time, when they don’t get to share in my glory.” He points at Steve, letting a smug smile slip onto his lips.

Steve shakes his head confusedly, asking, “Glory? What glory?” He scoffs a little, his interest piqued.

Dustin scoots closer to him, as if he’s about to give Steve a piece of confidential information. He starts with, “So, last night, I was trying to get in contact with Suzie…” He brushes his fingers on his nose, and Steve chimes in with, “Oh. Mm.” Steve smiles, tilting his head with a suggestive look.

“Mm-hmm?”

“Mm-hmm.” Steve looks away, trying not to laugh.

Dustin persists, saying, “And, uh…” He looks at Robin, making sure she’s occupied, and then at Eddie, who’s absently spinning a spoon between his fingers, gaze fixed on the counter like he’s miles away. He seems to judge it’s safe to tell Steve, and in a quiet voice, he covers his mouth and whispers something that Steve can’t hear.

Steve pauses, bewildered, and stares at Dustin and says, “What?”

The kid clicks his tongue and tries again. “Uh…” He inhales deeply, looking around once more. Dustin covers his mouth halfway and mumbles the sentence again, but Steve can’t hear him. “Just speak louder.”

Dustin seems to take this advice to heart and shouts blatantly, “I intercepted a secret Russian communication!”

All at once, the shop falls silent. Robin, the customers she’s serving, and Eddie all turn to look at them, the sharp squeak of chairs cutting through the silence.

Steve quickly says, “Jeez, shh,” and leans closer to Dustin as if to not draw any more attention to them. “Yeah, okay, that’s what I thought you said.”

He stops, thinking over what the kid beside him just said. “What—what does that mean?”

“It means, Steve, we could be heroes.” Steve perks up. “True American heroes.”

“Huh.”

“Mm-hmm?”

“American heroes?” Steve grins. It does have a ring to it, he’s gotta say.

Dustin swipes the air with his hand, saying, “Just think. You could have all the ladies you want, and more.”

“More?”

“More.”

Steve and Dustin nod, both staring off into space.

Steve speaks up. “I like more.”

“Mm-hmm.”

They continue nodding, and Steve looks up, catching Eddie’s eye. Eddie’s watching them with a half-lidded stare, spoon resting against his lower lip like he’s debating whether to laugh or stay quiet. There’s amusement there, sure, but something sharper underneath, like he’s trying to decide if this is funny or tragic or both.

He lifts a brow, barely tilting his head, and Steve can’t tell if he’s judging him.

Suddenly, Steve feels like he’s been caught in front of someone way too observant. He blinks and straightens.

Eddie just huffs, barely audible, and shakes his head, still smirking. Still looking.

Steve breaks out of the stare and asks Dustin, “What’s the catch?”

“No catch, I just need your help.” He shrugs.

“With what?”

Dustin reaches for his backpack, unzipping the front pocket and grabbing a small book. He holds it up to Steve can read the cover.

Romanov’s
Russian–English
English–Russian
Dictionary

“Translation.” Dustin tilts his head, smiling at Steve.

Oh, boy.

While Steve and the kid retreat to the back of the shop, Eddie and Robin stay in front, the latter taking orders while Steve takes his break.

Eddie hears a tape being played faintly in the back, a man speaking Russian. So, the kid really hadn’t been lying. He had heard Dustin telling Steve he needed his help with translation, and obviously that’s what they’ve been trying to do for the past twenty minutes.

Right now, though, Eddie is focused on keeping Robin company. A cute little black girl stands at the counter, waiting for Robin to get her a sample of the mint chocolate chip while Eddie tries to tune out the recording in the background.

Robin is looking so incredibly bored he thinks she might collapse on the floor.

“Mmm.” The girl discards the sample spoon and smacks her lips. She asks, “Can I try the peppermint stick?”

Robin asks her contemptuously, “Haven’t you already tried the peppermint stick?”

The small girl automatically shoots back with “Yes, and I’d like to try it again.” Okay, so maybe not so cute. She’s actually a little annoying.

Robin obviously thinks so too, and she turns around. “Steve!”

She calls his name at the window like she's scared if she doesn’t get away from this girl right now, she might explode.

Eddie leans in, coming in close so only she can hear. “Dude. If she asks for one more sample, I’m staging a mutiny.”

Robin shoots him a wide-eyed glare that somehow contains both a cry for help and a “I’m going to kill her” warning all in one.

Eddie straightens with mock gravity. “Operation ‘Get Robin Out of Sample Hell’ is a go.” He winks and drops his voice even lower. “Hey, maybe we should try to help them in the back with the Russian translation thing. It’s not exactly a secret and they need our help. From the amount of times they’ve replayed the first five seconds of the tape, I would say they just might be struggling a tiny bit.” He pinches his thumb and index finger together and squints one eye, showing the little space between them.

She looks at him, clearly not convinced that the only reason he wants to do this is for her sanity. She considers, then agrees. “I’ll do whatever I need to get me out of this girl’s claws. Let’s go.”

They get up, telling the girl to wait for a minute before Robin’s associate comes to help.

Before he and Robin reach the door to the breakroom, Eddie hears Dustin’s voice saying loudly, “Why are you listening to the music, Steve? Listen to the Russian, we’re translating Russian!”

Steve shouts back. “I’m trying to listen to the Russian, but there’s music—”

Robin shoves in the door and interrupts both of them with, “Alright, babysitting time is over. You need to get in there.” Eddie is hot on her heels, stumbling slightly over his own feet and coming to stand on the inside of the room. Robin walks over to the wall and notices the board while Steve falters backwards, clearly surprised she and Eddie came in so suddenly.

“Hey, my board! That was important data, shitbirds.”

Eddie sees the Russian alphabet drawn out on the board, Robin’s tallies of You Suck and You Rule nowhere to be seen.

Dustin chimes in, trying to calm her down with, “I guarantee you, what we’re doing is way more important than your ‘data.’”

Okay, so maybe he wasn’t trying to calm her down. He just made her even more agitated.

Steve tosses the empty banana peel that Eddie hadn’t even realized he was eating onto the table and nods along, agreeing. Oof, bad move, Harrington.

“Yeah? And how do you even know these Russians are up to no good anyways?” Ice cream scoop still in hand, Robin strides back to them and levels them both with a “try and prove me wrong” look. She waves the scoop around condescendingly.

Dustin, with a shocked look on his face, turns to Steve and asks, “How do they know about the Russians?”

Steve freezes, still chewing a mouthful of banana, mumbles through the food, “I don’t know,” while shrugging.

“You told her about—”

“It wasn’t me!”

Eddie snorts, speaking up for the first time since they came in. “Oh totally, like you didn’t shout it loud enough for the whole mall to hear earlier.” He gives the kid a grin, letting him know they’ve been caught red-handed.

Robin agrees, “Hello, I can hear you. Actually, I can hear everything. You are both extremely loud. You think you have evil Russians plotting against our country, on tape, and you’re trying to translate, but haven’t figured out a single word because you didn’t realize Russians use an entirely different alphabet than we do. Sound about right?”

Steve and the kid look at each other in defeat, the former still chewing with a bit of banana stuck on his bottom lip. Eddie freezes and looks away, not sure how he’s going to function when Steve… looks like that. He gets the irresistible urge to walk over there and use his thumb to wipe away the food with a seductive smirk, but he’s not that brave. And it wouldn’t be a good time for that anyway. So, standing in silence is good enough for Eddie. These stupid thoughts are going to get him in a lot of trouble, eventually they’re gonna show on his face. He shakes his head, vowing to himself it won’t get that far. He doesn’t even know what the feelings he’s having for Steve are. He should hate the guy, for Christ’s sake. He was an asshole, and for all Eddie knows, still is one. But Steve’s recent behavior contradicts that. How he deliberately makes Eddie laugh, how he treats Dustin, how he… looks at Eddie. And Eddie knows that Robin still isn’t over how he ignored people like them all the time, but he can’t bring himself to feel the same way she does.

Steve doesn’t even seem to notice the mess he’s made of Eddie’s self-control, still mid-chew, utterly oblivious to the chaos he’s causing just by existing. His brow is furrowed in concentration, a little wrinkle forming between his eyebrows as he glances over at the recorder. Eddie presses his tongue to the inside of his cheek, looking anywhere else. The floor. The table. The corner where someone scuffed the paint with a shoe. Every cell in his body is yelling “don’t look at him again!”, which, naturally, makes it impossible not to do.

At that moment, Robin lunges for the tape and Steve does too, getting to it before her and snatching it up. “Whoa! What do you think you’re doing?”

She bounces enthusiastically, a bright smile on her face. “I wanna hear it.”

Dustin and Steve both ask her “Why?” at the same time, suspicion drenched on their features.

Robin shrugs, “Cause, maybe I can help. I’m fluent in four languages, you know.”

“Certified genius, this one. I’m tellin’ ya.” Eddie jabs his finger toward her and nodding, crossing his arms over his chest and widening his stance. Steve looks at him for a brief second but looks back at Dustin quickly like he’s been caught doing something bad, and the kid asks, “Russian?” disbelievingly.

Robin leans forward, an amused smile on her face. “Ou-yay are-yay umb-day.”

As if that’s Russian. It takes everything in Eddie not to laugh at that point, knowing she’s trying to fool them.

They both laugh with surprise and while Steve says, “Oh-oh-oh!” Dustin joins in with “Holy shit!”

“That was Pig Latin, dingus.”

Eddie finally lets himself snort, which turns into a full laugh when the pair’s faces fall and Steve slaps the kid’s shoulder, muttering, “Idiot.”

“But I can speak Spanish and French and Italian, and I’ve been in band for twelve years.” Robin sits at the table. “My ears are little geniuses, trust me.”

She’s now trying to convince Steve, who is the only one holding back now. “Uhh…”

“Come on, it’s your turn to sling ice cream, my turn to translate,” Robin insists, flopping against the table in mock agony. “I don’t even want credit, I’m just bored.”

Eddie watches the exchange, grinning so wide his dimples threaten to take over his face.

Steve hesitates, still holding the tape halfway between them like it might explode.

Eddie throws his hands up dramatically, striding to the other man and getting close to Steve. “Come on. Tag her in, Harrington. She’s got the ears of a bat and the confidence of someone who’s survived middle school band camp, what more do you need?”

Steve raises an eyebrow at Eddie’s over-explaining and ridiculous metaphor.

Eddie crosses his arms, stepping in even closer. “Look, man. I know you get twitchy if you’re not doing something. I’ve seen it. So just take the scoop and let the lady work her magic.”

Robin sticks out her hand, wiggling her fingers, waiting to receive her ticket out of boredom.

“The fate of national safety relies on this,” Eddie adds solemnly.

Steve stares at both of them, a light blush spreading on his cheeks and nose. Eddie pauses. Why is his face so red? It’s not like he did something truly provocative to the other boy. Eddie puts it out of his mind, but it still looms in the back of his thoughts.

Steve then sighs in defeat, finally handing off the tape and grabbing the scooper. He steps out of Eddie’s space just as they hear the bell at the front being rung repeatedly and loudly. Eddie finds himself missing the heat from his body.

Robin shoots Eddie a grateful thumbs-up, and Eddie tips an imaginary hat, recovering. “We’re making history here, people.”

~-<O>-~

An hour later, Robin paces back and forth in the breakroom, listening to the Russian man’s voice coming from the recording. Eddie can hear the music in the background that Steve had been talking about, and as Robin looks to the ceiling in concentration, her brows furrow like she’s trying to physically pull the meaning from the words streaming out of the tape recorder.

“That word, uh... I’ve heard it before. In Spanish or maybe Italian? I can’t tell if it’s a cognate or a false friend.”

Eddie raises his eyebrows. “You’re gonna need to break that down for the dumbasses in the room.” Dustin nods along with him, obviously as confused as he is.

Robin gestures impatiently, like their collective ignorance is slowing her down. “It sounds like one word, but I think it’s an entirely different one in Russian. Like, deceptively familiar. Ugh, why do languages do this to me?”

He leans forward, bracing his chin on his hand. “You’ve got the brains and the bite. This one's yours. You can handle it.”

Robin grins at his encouragement despite herself. “Well then, guess I better not screw it up.”

“Hey,” Dustin chimes in from his spot at the table next to Eddie, arms crossed and eyebrows drawn together. “Maybe we should stay concentrated here? Y’know, before the Soviets come knocking.”

Eddie swivels toward him with a mock gasp. “Dustin Henderson. Are you doubting the sacred powers of improv language decoding?”

Dustin rolls his eyes. “I’m doubting your ability to not derail a literal espionage situation.”

Eddie clutches his chest theatrically. “Wounded. Mortally wounded. Remind me never to form a covert team with you again, Henderson. No flair for the drama.”

Dustin snorts, trying to look unimpressed but failing, the corner of his mouth twitching into a grin.

“Focus, drama gremlins,” Robin mutters.

She continues pacing, shaking out her hands before pointing at Dustin. “Wait, that last part, just one more time.”

Dustin complies, uncrossing his arms and rewinding the tape once more. “Okay.”

The recording continues, and Robin walks away, trying to concentrate even harder.

“Okay, that word. Um… It’s pronounced… “dly-nna-ya.”

Dustin repeats the word, nodding with wide eyes.

“Which is spelled…” She waves her hand, as if trying to keep the thought going. Dustin picks up on her silent instructions, going over to the board to help find the correct letter.

“D… D, D, D…” He mutters, tracing his finger along the board.

Robin sighs, sitting down next to Eddie to write down the word in Russian. In turn, Eddie stands up, moving behind her to lean down over her shoulder, and puts one hand on the back of her seat, letting the other rest on the table. When Dustin stutters, “The—the chair! The chair lookin’ thingy.” Robin starts to scribble furiously. Eddie leans in just enough to read over her shoulder and realize she’s spelling out the rest of the sentence. His pulse skips. It’s working.

She writes ‘dlynnaya’ in Russian and in English, the translation for the word revealing itself. Robin’s handwriting curves into the word ‘long.’

When the rest of the words slip into place, Eddie straightens, pushes off the table, and crosses the room toward the window, shoulders squaring with a jolt of satisfaction. He unlatches it and leans onto the counter just in time to catch Steve’s attention.

“We’ve got our first sentence.” Steve turns around at once and gives him his full focus. Eddie grins at him with a pleased twinkle in his eye.

“Oh, seriously?” Steve copies him, leaning on the counter too, but is a little hindered due to the cones he has in both hands. He smiles at Eddie, probably happy to talk to someone other than little kids.

“Yeah.” Eddie delivers the next part in a Russian accent, still not believing they actually cracked some of the message. “The week is long.” He grins.

Steve pauses, face dropping in disappointment. “Well, that’s thrilling.”

“I know. But, progress. Don’t let it get ya down, Stevie.” Eddie looks at him with sympathy, winking before he shuts the window again.

Through the closed window, he hears Steve read back the customer’s order and when they say thank you, he asks them, “Wait a second. Are you even allowed to be here?”

Eddie then hears a giggle from two girls and the unmistakable patter of footsteps trailing away. Eddie brushes it off, chuckling, promptly forgetting the conversation between the customers and Steve.

Eddie, Robin, and Dustin spend the rest of the afternoon translating the recording, the day slowly slipping into night. Even when the mall is closed, they are still hauled up in the back room of Scoops, with the addition of Steve after all the customers leave. When they have finished translating about three-quarters of the message, they all stand to look at the board with identical confused expressions and read out loud:

“The week is long,

The silver cat feeds

When blue meets

Yellow in the west.”

~-<O>-~

A minute later, they have all gathered their stuff and are heading out of the shop, Steve pulling down the gate in front to lock up for the night.

“I mean, it just… it just can’t be right.” The clank of the gate drowns out Steve’s words a little, but Eddie shakes his head, confused as the other man, but convinced their translation is correct.

“It’s right.” Eddie and Robin say in sync, their voices overlapping in that eerie, exhausted kind of way that only happens after you’ve spent way too many hours together. Eddie slouches into his denim vest, giving the shop one last glance over his shoulder as they walk into the empty corridor.

“Honestly, I think it’s great news.” Dustin says, walking lazily away from Steve with his hands in his pockets beside Robin.

“How is this great news? I mean, so much for being American heroes.” Steve chuckles darkly, catching up to them, coming up to walk alongside Eddie. “It’s total nonsense.”

Dustin, without even looking over his shoulder, replies. “It’s not nonsense. It’s too specific. It’s obviously a code.”

“What do you mean, a code?” Steve states it blatantly.

“Like a super-secret spy code.”

“That’s a total stretch.” Steve retorts.

Robin interrupts, a skeptical undertone to her voice. “I don’t know, is it?”

“You’re buying into this?” Steve’s voice is incredulous, startled by Robin’s offhand comment.

“Listen, just for kicks, let’s entertain the possibility that it is a secret Russian transmission. What’d you think they were gonna say, ‘Fire the warhead at noon’?” Robin shrugs nonchalantly.

“Exactly.” Dustin nods along.

“And my translation is correct. I know that for sure, so… ‘The silver cat feeds.’ Why would anyone talk like that unless they were trying to mask the true meaning of their message?”

“Exactly.” This time it’s Eddie who echoes the agreement, grinning at Dustin’s back.

“And why would anyone want to mask the true meaning of their message unless the message was somehow sensitive?”

This time, both Eddie and Dustin chime in with the thrice now repeated phrase, both saying, “Exactly.”

Eddie sees Steve mouthing incoherently from the corner of his eye, giving them a scornful look.

“So, I guess that confirms your suspicion.” Eddie tilts his head toward Dustin, looking at the kid in front of him while smiling.

“Evil Russians.” Dustin agrees, looking over his shoulder briefly at the older boy.

“I can’t believe I’m about to agree with this strange child, but, yeah, totally evil Russians.” Robin chuckles, her voice cracking with mirth as she grins, still walking.

“So, how do we crack it?” Dustin asks Robin.

Steve stops walking unexpectedly but the others continue. Eddie halts halfway between them when he notices Steve’s presence is no longer beside him. With a confused expression, Eddie looks between the two ahead and back to Steve, opening and closing his mouth as if to talk to the others or Steve or both. Dustin and Robin continue walking without a clue that Eddie and Steve aren’t behind them anymore.

“Well, I guess we’ll translate the rest and hopefully a pattern emerges.” Robin shrugs, shaking her head and staring off into space.

“A pattern. Right, like maybe ‘silver cat’ is a meeting place?” Dustin stutters while trying to convey his theory.

“Or a person.” Robin conspiratorially agrees.

“Or a weapon.” Dustin points at her, giving her an approving look.

“It’s probably gonna take a super genius to crack it but—”

Eddie finally waves one hand in the air the middle of Robin's sentence, his other hand pointing behind him as he stands dead still in the middle of the hallway. She looks around confusedly.

“Uh, hate to break up the meeting,” he says, loud enough to cut through their theorizing, “but I think Harrington’s a little preoccupied back there.”

Robin and Dustin both stop mid-step and Eddie turns with them to see Steve stranding in the exact spot they left him, digging through his pockets with his eyes locked on the carousel horse named the Indiana Flyer in front of him.

“Hey, Steve!” Robin shouts over the coins clattering on the ground at Steve’s feet, but he doesn’t answer. “What are you doing?”

“Uh, it’s a quarter, I need—do you have a quarter?” Steve raises his voice at the last part, waving them over to him. Robin laughs derisively, jogging with Dustin and Eddie to get to Steve’s side.

“Sure you’re tall enough for that ride?” Eddie teases, slowing down his gait to a walk, giving him a grin when he reaches Steve.

“Quarter!” Steve shouts, turning and catching it when Robin chucks one to him. He crouches and inserts the coin, sitting back on his heels as the opening notes of “Daisy Bell” ring through the silence of the empty mall, coming from the horse.

“You need help getting up, little Stevie?” Eddie flirts, gesturing to the horse with a wave of his ring-clad hand.

Dustin chuckles as Steve says, “Shh! Would you three just shut up and listen?”

As the song continues, all of them look at the horse, realization slowly dawning onto Dustin’s features.

“Holy shit.” Dustin mutters, and Steve looks up at him steadily. “The music.” Dustin starts shaking off his backpack, coming to a kneeling position right next to Steve and pulling out the tape recorder. “The music!”

He fumbles as he turns it on, the Russian man’s voice spilling into the air once more. They hear the song coming from two places now, the recording and the horse in front of them.

“I don’t understand.” Robin shakes her head quickly, her brow furrowed.

“It’s the exact same song on the recording.” Dustin motions to the horse.

“Maybe they have horses like this in Russia.” Robin tries and fails to make sense of the situation, her voice trailing off.

Steve jabs his thumb at the ride, “‘Indiana Flyer’? I don’t… I don’t think so. This code, it didn’t come from Russia—”

“It came from here.” Eddie finishes Steve’s sentence, the weight of the unexpected truth slithering onto his shoulders. Steve looks at him and nods minutely.

They all stare at the carousel horse, completely dumbfounded. The ride creaks softly as it winds down, its plastic eyes vacant and unbothered by the truth it has just revealed.

For a moment, no one says a word. No one moves.

Dustin then clutches the recorder a little tighter. Robin shifts her weight like she suddenly doesn’t trust the floor. Steve blinks slowly, gaze pinned to the ride like it might say something else if they wait long enough.

And Eddie, still standing at Steve’s side, can feel it in his gut.

Not a coincidence. Not a prank.

This whole thing started right under their noses.

He glances sideways at Steve. The man’s jaw is set; lips parted like he wants to say something. His brow twitches, just slightly, like there's a thought pressing behind his eyes, but one he's not sure he's ready to trust out loud. The dim mall lights cast faint shadows across his face, hardening the usual softness in his expression.

Even now, Eddie can't help but notice how Steve’s jaw tenses, how the shape of his mouth tightens when he’s thinking too hard. It’s stupid, really, the way his brain clocks it like it’s important. Like it matters. But it kinda does. Even when Steve’s silent, Eddie still thinks he looks... good. Unfairly so. And of course, it only makes everything harder to ignore. And it’s stupid, because they literally just discovered the existence of communist bastards in their hometown. This shouldn’t matter, he shouldn’t be thinking about this in the grand scheme of things. But somehow, he can’t stop himself from doing exactly that.

Eddie watches him, torn between reaching out to comfort him and pretending he hasn’t noticed. Something’s shifted in Steve. Subtle, but real. And Eddie feels the same energy settling between them all, quiet and humming.

The carousel clicks once more and Eddie swears it echoes louder than it should.

He swallows hard.

In all his wildest conspiracies, Eddie had never imagined his life would change with an intercepted secret Russian transmission.

But it had, and there was no way in hell they could ignore it now.

Chapter Text

Eddie arrives at his trailer fifteen minutes later. The whole drive home he had been thinking about what their discovery could mean, wracked by anxiety and uncertainty. It’s a lot to take in, and he doesn’t know what to do in this kind of situation, given that he’s never had to deal with something like this before. He wonders how Dustin and Steve remained so calm. He and Robin had been freaking out. Not to say that they weren’t concerned, but they had an atmosphere of… familiarity to the situation? But that even sounds stupid to Eddie and he pushes away the thought.

When he pulls onto the gravel drive outside of his trailer in Forest Hills, he reaches for his keys in the ignition. He yanks them out, shuts off the engine, and rests his head in his hands, his breathing coming fast and shallow. All he can think is God, what has he gotten himself into? The truth felt too close now, too real. The idea that the transmission originated in Hawkins clawed at his insides, like he'd stumbled across something he was never supposed to hear, never supposed to know.

After quite a while of sitting in his darkened car (honestly, could’ve been two minutes or two hours, he hadn’t kept track. Also, isn’t time a relative thing or some shit like that?), he pulls himself together enough to tumble out of the car and make his way into the place he calls home.

When he shoves his keys into the lock and opens front door, he notices that the trailer is completely dark. It’s a stark contrast from the night outside, which had been littered with stars and moonlight.

“Uncle Wayne? Wayne, I’m home!”

His raised voice his met with silence. The drapes at the other end of the living room are closed, not letting in any light whatsoever.

He throws his keys on the hook by the door and switches on a lamp, the uneasiness he felt at the empty trailer leaving him the moment the room floods with light. Eddie sighs in relief, his shoulders sagging as he leans on the wall for a brief second. Then he’s up, heading towards the kitchen.

Eddie tugs open the cabinet where they keep their glasses and picks one up with shaking fingers. He turns on the faucet and fills the cup up to the brim, downing the whole thing in four large gulps. The water dribbles down his throat in his haste to drink it, the soft cotton of his shirt becoming soaked from the contact.

He looks up and blinks, still clutching the glass in his hand as he sees something bright pink flashing at him from the fridge. He promptly drops the cup in the sink and rushes to the sticky note, dreading the message he’ll find on there. His nerves are frayed, terror lacing his thoughts.

Heart beating out of his chest, he snatches it off the refrigerator and his eyes skip over the words written in his uncle’s familiar writing.

Eddie,

I left early for work tonight. There is some pasta in the pantry if you want to make yourself some supper.

Be back around 6 tomorrow morning. Gotta talk to you when you get up.

Keep your head down, kid.

Wayne

Eddie’s heartbeat slows, the reality of what he read seeping in. No one had come for him. Wayne is safe.

He sighs, breathing deeply. He’s so on edge he had thought that the Russians somehow got to his uncle, playing a sick prank on Eddie with the sticky notes Wayne always leaves for him. Now, looking at it from a calmer point of view, he realizes belatedly that it wouldn’t make sense in the slightest that the Russians would’ve found out about his involvement in the translation efforts, let alone found his home mere hours after the fact. He starts to calm down. He’s fine. You’re fine. No one is coming for you, at least not tonight, he thinks.

A hollow voice in the back of his head speaks to him, voicing fears he wouldn’t entertain if these were under any normal circumstances.

Oh, but are you sure about that? You have no idea what the commies are capable of. They could be on their way right now to the plant, geared up like Rambo, all to get through to you by using your uncle. It’s only a matter of time, Eddie.

Eddie quickly silences these thoughts. He’s being completely paranoid. Just because there are Russian assholes in his hometown doesn’t mean he needs to freak out and jump to the worst conclusions.

He slowly recognizes the fact that he’s not remotely hungry. Wayne had obviously taken the time to think about what Eddie should have for dinner, but he feels like if he ate anything at the moment he would instantly throw it all up. And call him crazy, but he doesn’t really feel like spending the rest of his evening cooped up in the bathroom, vomiting his guts out until the early morning. It doesn’t help in the slightest that he already feels queasy despite not having anything to eat for hours and hours.

The clock on the microwave shows the time to be 10:23. He decides that he should probably head over to his room, crash on his bed, and never think about any of this again. As fun as stewing in thoughts of kidnap and torture is, he would rather try to sleep than let himself spiral.

He usually doesn’t even go to bed this early, sometimes staying up late into the night just to he can write songs and lyrics with his guitar, but he has no such desire to do so now.

Eddie strides over to the trash can underneath the sink and tosses the note inside, finally walking out of the kitchen to stumble through his trailer towards his room. The walk through his home feels like a fever dream; the corners of his eyes start blurring and his feet feel heavy. He makes sure to lock the front door. At the threshold to his bedroom door, he shoves it open to find soft light illuminating the walls and posters throughout the room.

He’s still scared and nervous, but he doesn’t know why. After taking what seems like his millionth deep breath of the night, he finds his way to his dresser in search of pajamas.

Despite being weary from his earlier scare, he is dead set on not sleeping in jeans, because let’s face it, only psychopaths do that. His hand finds the cool metal of the drawer handle and he pulls it open and his rings make a clinking sound against it. Lifting out some sweatpants and a faded t-shirt Wayne gave to him as a hand-me-down, he inhales, catching the scent of the clothes. It still carries his scent, and for some reason, that’s oddly comforting right now.

Eddie slips out of his day clothes and into the pajamas he’d picked out for himself. In the end, he completely forgets to brush his teeth and climbs into bed, his vision becoming more and more spotted with exhaustion.

It should be hard to sleep with what he’s discovered in the last twenty-four hours, and it is, but he gives in to the unrelenting pull of fatigue.

His last thought before he passes out is that he hopes Wayne is okay, no matter what is going on in Hawkins.

~-<O>-~

Eddie awakes to the sound of quiet knocking on his bedroom door, the familiar rap of Wayne’s knuckles against the door piercing through the still morning air. He inhales swiftly, eyes still closed.

“Ed? Come on, time to get up. Gotta talk to ya.”

Eddie lifts his head slightly, a little startled by his uncle’s gentle voice floating past the threshold.

“Mmph.” He makes the sound just loud enough for Wayne to hear through the closed door and flops back down into his pillow.

“That’s it. I made breakfast, come out when yer ready, son.”

He hears his uncle’s feet thudding down the hallway, presumably back to the kitchen. Eddie smells bacon and eggs in the air with a slight tinge of coffee, which is enough to get him to finally open his eyes.

He’s lying face-down on his pillow, limbs sprawled all over the sheets as he wakes up. Memories from the day before rush back to him as he sits up, arms bracing his body as he looks over at the alarm clock. 7:28 a.m.

Suddenly, he gets a sense of déjà vu. The day before yesterday, Eddie had no idea he would be waking up in much of the same fashion, but now with knowledge of things happening in Hawkins that normal people living their day-to-day lives would have no idea about.

All night he had tossed and turned, the awareness of his situation with the other kids keeping him half-conscious for hours. Now, he gets up and makes his way to the kitchen, dreading whatever Wayne must need to talk to him about.

His feet pad lightly on the trailer’s floor as we walks, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Wayne is standing at the counter, focused on pouring two cups of the heavenly smelling coffee.

“Hey,” Eddie greets, his voice scratchy and deep from lack of use. Sitting down at the island on the edge of the kitchen, a plate of food waits for him. It looks delicious.

Wayne looks up briefly but continues to serve himself a plate from the pan on the stove. “Mornin’, kid. How did you sleep?”

“Just fine.” The lie comes easily, falling from his lips like second nature. Eddie decides, no, he doesn’t want to talk about himself with his uncle at the moment. Even if he did, he doesn’t think he could. The others never specified what they would be telling their families, so he settles on nothing.

“That’s good, good…” Wayne mutters, his mind clearly elsewhere.

A pause, then Eddie clears his throat. “Uh—Uncle Wayne? You said you needed to talk to about me something.” Small talk has never been Eddie’s forte, and he’s sure this is decidedly not what Wayne mentioned talking to him about.

“Sure, right.” Wayne looks... borderline uncomfortable, Eddie realizes. He leans forward on the island, his elbows meeting the cold tile of the countertop, wrapping his hands around his upper arms and crossing them. His uncle takes a steadying breath and sits down across from Eddie with his breakfast and the two mugs of coffee, setting one down in front of his nephew.

Eddie mumbles his appreciation, lifting the cup to his lips for a quick sip. The bitter taste of the black coffee helps to wake him up, his senses becoming sharper as he does.

Wayne then starts talking.

“Alright. Kid, y’know I don’t like to leave you by yerself”—Eddie restrains himself from contradicting this comment, wanting to tell him he’s not a child anymore— “But I was talkin’ to John at the plant ‘couple days ago and he was tellin’ me that they needed a few more hands for a project down in Indy. I told him, I said, ‘Well, I gotta talk to my nephew first, Lord knows he gets into enough trouble while I’m here—'”

He stops abruptly, looking at Eddie for a reaction. Eddie can’t imagine why his uncle would think he would have a problem with this. He thinks dully that he should probably say something.

“Oookay…?”

Wayne inhales sharply, taking his mug in hand and looking away from Eddie.

“All I’m saying, son, is that I think we could use the extra cash. If yer okay with it, I’m going to drive down there tonight and stay until after the Fourth. Said I would give him a call... if I decide to go.”

“Wayne, what are you saying?”

Eddie stares at his uncle, not touching the plate of food in front of him.

“I’m tryna make sure you’ll be okay by yerself for a little while. I don’t wanna come home to a complete disaster. Ya get me, son?”

Eddie hesitates. Normally, he would say yes, he’s totally fine with it, but something about Wayne’s tone makes him pause. He’s usually not this diffident, he frequently just tells his nephew he’s going out of town. Eddie can’t help but think that Wayne is somehow asking for his permission to be able to leave. Like he knows something’s off with Eddie. Like he knows Eddie might get into trouble soon. He’s worried. That much is obvious. It makes him feel warm, knowing his uncle cares so deeply about him.

He shrugs, nonchalant, but deep down his mind is elsewhere.

“Sure, I get you.”

“Good.” Wayne takes another deep breath, finally digging into his food with a relieved smile on his face. Eddie copies him, lifting his fork and stabbing some eggs. “So. Whadda’ya plannin’ on doin’ today?”

Eddie chokes. He delves into a coughing fit and once he regains control with a swig of his coffee he acknowledges the question. “W—why?”

Wayne is looking at him with a mixture of confusion and amusement. “Just curious, son. I feel like I don’ get to hear about what yer doin’ these days.”

Eddie isn’t sure if he can tell him he was planning on hanging out at the mall again today. He decides that he should, he doesn’t see how it could make things more complicated.

“Oh, uh—sure. I’m gonna hang out at Starcourt again today with Robin.”

“Robin, huh? The new mall down there? And … are you two friends? Robin a boy’s name or a girl’s?”

Eddie rolls his eyes. Of course his uncle would jump there. He’s always known about Eddie’s sexuality, even as a kid. Ever since Eddie came home with a busted lip and a swollen eye halfway through freshman year, his uncle had known something was wrong. Eddie initially hadn’t wanted to tell him anything, locked himself in his room for hours on end, but Wayne ended up dragging it out of him anyway.

Eddie had gotten a few mean right hooks from some stupid jock named Blake Dalton from his grade in the locker rooms after a gym period. The guy's reasoning?

Eddie had been “staring” at him in the showers far too comfortably for his liking. In the end, he’d been jumped by the jock and his cronies, but he counted himself lucky. They could have done something much worse than call him a fag and a queer (take your pick, both had been uttered) and give him a bleeding lip and a black eye. Eddie still stands on the fact he had done no such thing, but the other boys had just used the lie to do the thing they had wanted to do for a while: beat up the kid everyone called gay.

Eddie was no stranger to this type of behavior; when he got to high school, the rumors had arisen almost immediately. Blake and his posse had only needed one excuse to do something about it.

Wayne had pulled the truth out of him the very next day. Eddie had felt like a mistake, like a burden. His uncle had shown him that he wasn’t, that he would always love him no matter who he chose to love. He had said that those kids had no business judging other people for what they did in their own homes and who they did it with. Wayne supported him fully, and that was all Eddie needed. It didn’t even matter that Wayne was the only person who really knew the truth; he was his whole world anyway.

He had gone to school the very next week sporting his beat up face, along with a small black handkerchief hanging from his back pocket. A sign. Symbolism, if you will. He had stopped caring what other people thought. Eddie was unapologetically himself. If someone tried to get to him, he had just acted in a way he knew would make them uncomfortable while also giving himself an air of confidence. And just like magic, they left him alone.

They were right in the end, Eddie thinks wryly. Not about the insults, but about his… preferences. Sure, the name calling never really stopped, but no one ever tried to mess with him again. And it was all because of his uncle’s kind words and firm support.

“She’s a girl, and yeah, we’re friends.” He smiles at Wayne warmly.

“Okay bud, jus’ curious. Why the mall?”

Eddie debates this question and gives him an answer based on fact, even if it’s not the whole truth. “She works at the ice cream place there. She likes having some company.” He shrugs.

Wayne nods at Eddie.

“Right. Well, I hope y’all have a good day.”

After that, the conversation is easy and Eddie finds himself laughing, his fear from earlier melting away. Breakfast ends, and Wayne gets up to leave and pack up for his trip. As he passes by him to the other end of the trailer, he grips Eddie’s shoulder tightly . It’s probably way more comforting than it should be. Eddie doesn’t care.

When Wayne packs up his truck and is ready to leave, Eddie stops him on the front porch.

“Hey, uh, Wayne?” He’s uncertain.

Wayne freezes, turning to face his nephew. “Yeah?”

Eddie takes a deep breath. “Have a good trip.” His words are weighted, and he wishes he could tell Wayne everything.

Somehow, his uncle seems to pick up on the tone of his voice, even if he doesn’t know what the weight is. He steps forward without hesitance and envelops Eddie into a bone-crushing hug.

Eddie stands on the front porch of the trailer he grew up in with his uncle’s arms around him. All he can do is stand. Eddie gets the feeling this might be the last time he hugs Wayne. He immediately tamps down the thought. That’s not how this works, Eddie. He'll always be here.

Another, more vile voice speaks up from the back of his conscious. 

But you might not be.

He tentatively wraps his own arms around the aging man, the guilt of actions he hasn’t even committed yet gnawing at him.

Wayne pulls away first and holds Eddie by the shoulders in front of him. Then he drops his arms. “I’ll see ya soon, Eds. Don’t get into any trouble.”

Eddie snorts, but he can feel his eyes showing a miserable undertone. He quickly smiles to cover it.

“See you, old man.”

Wayne starts walking to his truck and opens the door.

“Take care, Eddie.”

He watches as his uncle drives away from the porch, still dressed in sweatpants with bare feet.

~-<O>-~

Today officially marks the second day of trying to translate the message. Since Robin and Steve have to work anyway, the teens all agreed to meet at the mall again to decode the rest of the message and scope out any suspicious mallgoers.

He hadn’t wanted to end up lying to his uncle but didn’t know how on earth he would have described the fact of foreign military existence (that’s the leading suspicion) in Hawkins plotting to unleash a secret weapon or take over the world. That’s a long shot, but Eddie figures they can’t rule anything out. They have to assume the worst, because if they don’t, it could be too late and people’s lives could be in danger.

Goddamn it.

Why did Eddie of all people have to get roped into this? The universe should know by now not to trust the disaster that is Edward Munson. But since it wouldn’t be fair to the others, he can’t just pick up and leave like his mind is screaming at him to do. Robin wouldn’t do that.

So neither will he.

KISS blasts through his speakers in the van as he pulls up to the parking lot at Starcourt. Eddie comes right up to the counter in Scoops to see Robin turned away from him with headphones drawn up over her short honey-blond hair. He quickly jumps over the counter and sneaks up behind her, Robin still not noticing him. An idea suddenly comes to him.

With a devilish grin and his mind made up, he reaches forward with claw-like hands and grabs her, lifting her into the air as she startles. When he laughs in her ear, she seems to realize it’s him and starts laughing too, her posture softening.

“Eddie! Holy shit, I thought I was getting kidnapped.” She swats his arm in mock scolding, which only furthers Eddie’s laughter. She pushes down the headphones over her neck, which Eddie realizes now are connected to the recorder with the Russian message on it.

“In broad daylight? In the middle of a packed mall?” He grins, getting his laughter under control.

“Hey, you never know. I can have theories.” She sticks her tongue out at him.

“Sure,” he allows, still grinning playfully. “What’cha doing?”

“Oh, just trying to translate the rest of the message,” She says casually, lowering her voice to a whisper.

Eddie snorts. “Never thought I’d hear that said by someone unironically.”

Eddie’s grin falters. Despite the jokes, they both feel the melancholy tinge from Robin’s statement.

They both startle out of their musing by the insistent dinging of the bell at the counter. Robin quicky reaches to pause the recording, which had kept playing through the headphones while they talked. The little black girl Eddie recognizes from yesterday stands there, surrounded by a group of other little girls. He wonders how he and Robin both managed not to notice them approaching. Then, the girl is speaking and Eddie thinks that combined with the bell-ringing might just kill him.

“Excuse me? Ahoy!” The bell keeps being rung even though they’ve acknowledged her presence.

“Oh great. This girl again.” He mutters under his breath, but Robin catches it and has to school her face into a serious expression.

Robin turns toward her and sighs, leaning back with her arms propped behind her back to steady herself.

The little girl’s determined dinging slows and eventually slows to a stop and she folds her hands neatly on the counter with an infuriating smile.

“I’d like to try the Peanut Butter Chocolate Swirl, please.” She glances up at the menu.

Robin chuckles, returning the annoying smile. “No. No more samples today.”

The little girl’s face falls, a disapproving frown marking her features. “Why not?” The question comes out irritated.

“Because you’re abusing our company policy.” Robin shoots back without hesitation, her eyes widening.

The girl seems to take a different approach in her hunt for free samples. “Where’s the sailor man?” She looks around, like Steve may show up any second.

Eddie pauses for a moment. She has a point there. Where is Steve? He hadn’t asked Robin when he’d come in, but he had only been there for about three minutes and he probably would have asked eventually.

Robin snorts, turning away from the girl. “Sorry. He can’t help you. He’s busy.”

The girl is quick to question the excuse. “Busy with what?”

Robin turns back, a satisfied grin on her face. “Spycraft.” She cocks her eyebrows.

Ah. Well, that makes sense. They had agreed to do recon the previous day.

Eddie knows now where Dustin and Steve had gotten off to.

Steve peeks up from behind a decorative bush, holding a pair of binoculars Dustin brought up to his eyes.

“See anything?”

Dustin and Steve are crouched, spying through the lenses of the binoculars for “suspicious activity” as Dustin had put it. They sit in front of a Chinese takeout restaurant in the food court.

“Uh, I guess I don’t totally know what I’m looking for.” Steve shrugs, still looking at random people through the magnifier.

“Evil Russians.” Dustin states it matter-of-factly, like he’s frustrated Steve hadn’t gotten the memo.

“Yeah, exactly.” Steve rolls his eyes, even though he knows Dustin isn’t looking at him. “I don’t know what an evil Russian looks like.”

Dustin replies immediately, like he’s thought about what an evil Russian looks like.

“Tall, blond. Not smiling.”

“Mm-hmm.” Steve mutters a reply.

“Also, look for earpieces, camo, duffel bags, that sort of thing.” Has this kid done research or something?

“Right, okay. Duffel bags.” He scans the upper floor of the mall, towards the railing.

Suddenly, he sees two familiar faces standing and leaning on the rail. A guy and girl, both from his very own high school class.

“Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me.” Steve says, as the girl reaches up and strokes the guy’s hair.

Dustin perks up, obviously convinced Steve found something worthwhile. “What?”

“Anna Jacobi’s talking to that meathead Mark Lawinsky!” His tone is spiked with disbelief.

Though the lens, Steve sees Mark leans forward to whisper something in Anna’s ear, his hand on her forearm. She giggles at whatever he’s saying. Unbelievable.

Dustin scoffs, totally fed up. “Dude, if you’re not gonna focus, just gimme the binoculars.”

Steve ignores him, still looking at the couple. “Aw—Jesus Christ! What ever happened to standards?” Mark mimics shooting a hoop and Anna giggles again, Mark joining in with the laughter. “I mean, Lawinsky never even came off the bench!”

“Dude, you are the worst spy in history, you know that?” Dustin reaches forward to grab the binoculars out of Steve’s hands, unintentionally pulling Steve with them since they are connected to a string hanging around his neck.

“Stop, hey. Stop.” Steve says it without gently and without malice, still focused on the couple as the binoculars are torn away from him.

“Give me those,” Dustin places the spyglass over his eyes, taking over Steve’s job. “Besides, I don’t get why you’re looking at girls. You have the perfect one in front of you.”

Steve blushes, rubbing his hand over his chin. “Seriously, if you say Robin again—”

Dustin interrupts him. “Robin.”

“No—don’t, no.”

“Robin, Robin, Robin.”

“Stop, no, no, no.”

“Robin. Robin.”

“No.”

“Robin.”

“No.”

“Robin.” Dustin says her name this time with an air of finality.

“No! No, man. She’s not my type. She’s not even… in the ballpark of what my type is, all right?” Steve swipes his hand through the air for emphasis.

Dustin isn’t buying it. “What’s your type again? Not awesome?” He looks back at Steve, his face flat.

Steve nods once, sarcastically saying, “Thank you.”

Dustin returns the sardonic nod with a quick smirk, then it drops. “Hm.”

“For your information, she’s still in school. And she’s weird. She’s a weirdo. And she’s hyper. I don’t like that she’s hyper. And she did drama. That’s a bad look. And she’s in band?” Steve shakes his head, a disgusted look etched on his features. “No.”

Dustin looks across at him again, seeming to come to a conclusion. “Now that you’re out of high school, which means you’re technically an adult, don’t you think it’s time you move on from primitive constructs such as popularity?”

Damn. Kid saw right through him.

“Oh, primitive constructs? That some stupid shit you learned at Camp… Know Nothing?” He glances at Dustin’s cap, struggling to find a good retort. It sounds stupid, and he cringes after he realized it came out of his mouth.

“Camp Know Where, actually,” Dustin corrects him. “And no, it’s shit I learned from life.”

“Oh.” Steve feigns consideration at that, sarcasm flowing off of his hunched over frame.

“Instead of dating someone that you think’s gonna make you cooler,” Dustin continues, “why not date someone you actually enjoy being around? Like me and Suzie.”

Steve sees his chance and jumps on it. “Oh Suzie. Yeah, you mean, ‘hotter than Phoebe Cates.’ Yeah, that Suzie. And, uh, let’s think about how exactly you scored that beautiful girlfriend?” He pretends to scratch his temple in serious contemplation. “Oh, yeah. With my advice. Because that’s how this works, Henderson. I give you the advice, you follow through. Not the other way around, all right, pea-brain?”

Steve turns away from Dustin, who isn’t even looking at him. Then, he feels the kid’s eyes boring into the side of his head in a glare.

Then Dustin turns away, quiet in his own contemplation. Steve allows himself to really start thinking about Dustin’s argument. Maybe he’s not so wrong after all. Maybe he would be happier if he found someone he loves being around. Maybe that person really is right in front of him and he doesn't know it.

After about 20 minutes of dead silence between the two, Dustin seems to awaken from the stupor he had been in.

“Target acquired.”

“Where?” Steve asks skeptically, leaning into Dustin’s space and following his line of vision.

“10 o’clock. Sam Goody’s.”

“Give me that.” Steve takes the binoculars and Dustin doesn’t even protest.

He sees a tall, long-haired blond man walking with a duffel bag slung over his shoulder, wearing a grim countenance that Steve sees from across the court.

“Shit,” Almost in awe, he says, “Duffel bag.”

He trails the man with the binoculars, turning to Dustin and taking them away from his face. Their eyes meet, both reflecting shock to the other’s.

“Evil Russian.” They say in sync, incredulity written all over their faces.

“Come on.” Steve nudges Dustin, coming to a standing position. His gaze locks onto the man and his legs move, following him at a distance through the food court and up an escalator. He feels Dustin rushing behind him to catch up, the binoculars held limply, forgotten in Steve’s hand.

“Slow down.” Dustin urges.

“We’re losin’ him.” Steve argues.

“You’re getting too close—”

But someone interrupts Dustin, bumping into Steve’s shoulder. He doesn’t even notice the impact, but his body moves anyway, the stranger shouting at Steve.

“Watch it, dickwad!” The guy sounds angry, but Steve doesn’t care.

Steve keeps his eyes trained on the Russian and sees the man stop dead in his tracks at the sound of the yell. He and Dustin both double back, trying to pretend they hadn’t been following him at all. Dustin picks up a phone and the dial tone sounds, while Steve stops and looks into a store through the glass.

Dustin’s voice rings in Steve’s ears. “Hello. Yes. I am fine. How are you?”

His monotone cover-up voice would have been funny if it were under different circumstances, but as Steve watches out of the corner of his eye, the blond Russian turns back around and continues making his way through the mall. When the coast is clear, Steve pushes Dustin forward, the latter hastily stuffing the receiver back onto the wall in front of the store.

They quickly duck behind a large electronic map of Starcourt, watching as the man weaves through the crowd towards… a jazzercise studio?

He walks right in, but judging by the women inside, all covered in bright spandex and sweatbands, none of this appears out of the ordinary. Can’t they see something shady about this guy? Steve thinks.

The Russian’s loud voice carries from the studio toward Steve and Dustin’s hiding spot.

“Alright, everyone, listen up!” The man sets the huge duffel bag down inside the studio, and oh shit, something bad is about to happen. But then, Steve sees a big boombox peeking out from the zipper of the duffel bag. What?

“I just have one question for you.” The man takes off his sunglasses, Steve’s face the picture of confusion. “Who… is ready to sweat?”

All the women in the studio cheer and clap their hands, the man turning on the boombox as “Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go” by Wham! fills the space around them.

The man (who is clearly not an evil Russian) takes off his coat to reveal a bright purple exercise tank top, and with an upbeat tone, says, “That’s right! Okay! Let’s start nice and easy now. Let’s move our thighs, yeah! Yeah ladies, warm it up.”

These statements are met with more cheers from the women. Steve and Dustin are frozen, disgust visible across their faces.

“Bring it down to your hips. Start feeling that burn, everywhere down in the loins, right? Come on, ladies, show me what you got.” The man continues, instructing the women while they all move their hips. Steve is convinced his face has never been so red.

“Slow now. Just isolate. Ooh, tip that up, that feels good!”

Steve is suddenly very glad Eddie isn’t here right now. If he were, he knows that the other boy wouldn’t hesitate to laugh good-naturedly at the expressions on both Dustin and Steve’s faces, particularly the blush spreading all over Steve’s face and neck. With that thought, he’s not even sure the flush is because of the women in spandex or something else.

Eddie and Robin sit in the front of Scoops Ahoy, the latter sitting on the counter where the window is, holding an ice cream float and a notepad. The full translation lies on the pages, and Eddie feels a burst of pride as Robin starts to read the message out loud.

“‘The week is long. The silver cat feeds when blue meets yellow in the west. A trip to China sounds nice if you tread lightly.”

She stops and sips from the cup in her hand.

“Tread lightly?” Eddie questions. None of this is making sense to him.

Robin agrees, picking up the Russian and English dictionary. “Hold on…”

She continues to mumble quietly, flipping through the pages as Eddie thinks furiously about what the phrase could mean.

They are interrupted by a muffled knocking from the other side of the window. Robin sighs, putting down the book, and Eddie dusts himself off. Robin slides through the window, jumping down into the breakroom. Eddie instead goes through the swinging door, favoring the long way around rather than the dirty countertop. He watches protectively with crossed arms as Robin opens the door to the hallway, revealing a man wearing a navy blue work smock and a baseball hat, both imprinted with the words Lynx Transportation.

“Delivery for you.” The man speaks up. He holds out a cardboard box for Robin to take and she thanks him. She sets it aside and Eddie relaxes slightly. The man then holds out a clipboard for her to sign, a confirmation of the package delivery most likely. After she’s done signing, she stiffens, and the man raises his brows. She gives him back the clipboard, stock-still and frozen, head tilted up, and Eddie thinks she’s looking at the cap on his head. Eddie can’t see her face, but he knows the gears in her multi-faceted brain are turning fiercely. Over what, he has no clue.

The Lynx delivery man shrugs off her weird behavior and wishes her a good day, Robin returning the sentiment distractedly. As he turns to leave with his dolly of boxes down the hallway behind the ice cream parlor, Robin stops for a moment and Eddie thinks she’s going to come back around to the front of the store again. However… she doesn’t.

She practically jumps out the back door, feet silent as she follows the guy out.

“Robin!” Eddie hisses, rushing with much louder feet laced in combat boots to stand behind her. “What are you doing?”

Ignoring Eddie in favor of looking at the man’s printed back decal of a feline painted in silver, she mutters, “Silver cat.”

“What?” Eddie pleads.

“Silver cat.” She repeats, looking directly at him now with a fervor and excitement of recognition.

She then bursts back through the door into the front of the store, crashing her way past Eddie.

“Robin! What is going on? Would you please just tell me things?!”

Eddie sounds desperate. She continues running through the little shop and picks up the little notebook with the translation written upon it. Then she bumps through the middle of two people, who Eddie now sees are Steve and Dustin.

“Yo, Robin. You’re not gonna believe who Dustin thought was a Russian.” Steve speaks to her as soon as he sees the girl, walking side by side with the kid into the shop.

“You did too!”

“No, I did not.”

She brushes past them both, disregarding their argument. Steve is wearing a puzzled expression at her abrupt departure.

Eddie follows her, running between them too despite Steve’s protests. “Where are you guys going?”

Eddie turns around mid-run and shrugs his shoulders despairingly, twisting back forward to sprint in Robin direction.

She leaps on a decorative flower bed rim in the middle of the food court, looking around with wide eyes and mumbling.

“Robin, want to clue me in on exactly what we’re doing here?” Eddie pants, jumping up beside her.

“‘A trip to China sounds nice.’ A trip to China sounds nice… A trip to China sounds nice…” She quotes, spinning in place and looking at their surroundings. Then, she blinks fast, eyes stretched wide.

“Okay! I get it, you want to go to China.” He jokes, if only to distract himself from the worry creasing his brows at her actions.

“No, a trip to China sounds nice!” She reaches up, grabbing his chin and directing his eyes to the Imperial Panda Chinese takeout restaurant sign, lit up with neon colors.

And suddenly, he knows what’s going on. His eyes widen and she lets him go, quickly flipping through the pad of notes.

Eddie leans over her shoulder, muttering as well. His gaze roams over the page, finding the next part in the message.

“‘If you tread lightly…’” Eddie stutters.

Then they’re both looking up again, spinning around like fools in the middle of the mall.

“If you tread…” Robin repeats, stopping halfway.

They both reach the same point in their rotations, looking up into the second story and spotting a store named Kaufman Shoes at the same time.

“If you tread lightly.” The girl beside him gestures to the sign above the store with finality, Eddie nodding along dumbly with large eyes.

Robin continues. “When—when blue and yellow meet in the west. When blue meets yellow… in the west.”

She looks up at the wall near the skylight on the high ceiling, nudging Eddie with her elbow. Two hands on a large clock point to 2:22 in the afternoon, the smaller hand colored blue and the larger yellow.

“‘When blue meets yellow in the west!’” He recites excitedly, pointing to the humongous clock on the far wall. With an enthusiastic shriek, Robin reaches over and hugs Eddie tightly, jumping up and down.

“Guys. What are you doing?” Steve asks cautiously, coming up in front of the two on the platform with Dustin by his side.

“We cracked it.” Robin says, a proud smile lighting her up from the inside out.

“Cracked what?”

Eddie jumps down, quickly followed by Robin. “We cracked the code.” He announces; wonder painted on the two of their faces.

When blue and yellow meet in the west (9:45 pm, Steve learns), they all gather on the roof, heavy rain pouring down on them. It’s a warm rain, humid from the summer heat and a little comforting, even if it does drip into Steve’s eyes and wets his hair. Steve is crouched in between Robin and Eddie, Dustin to Eddie’s right. Dustin had brought the binoculars and Robin and Dustin wear raincoats, while Steve and Eddie wear regular jackets, which do nothing to shield the torrent of water mingling with thunder and lightning. Two men dressed in black stand guard at a pair of doors leading somewhere none of them can identify.

Steve has no idea what they’re waiting for, but Robin and Eddie had explained that “a trip to China sounds nice” and “if you tread lightly” refer to the Imperial Panda restaurant and Kaufman Shoes, both stores right in the mall. “The silver cat feeds” is a nod to Lynx Transportation, the company that delivers supplies to Scoops Ahoy, and apparently most shops in Starcourt. Because of that part in the message, Robin seems to think that there will be some kind of delivery happening around this time at night.

A large truck backs into the space where storage is kept. The men below are joined by a third, wearing a yellow raincoat emblazoned with the Lynx silver cat detail on the back, pushing a dolly stacked with boxes.

Robin’s voice somewhere to his left shouts at Dustin over the rain. “Look for Imperial Panda and Kaufman Shoes!”

Steve ruffles his hair, trying to keep it from getting in his eyes and swiping it to the side. He feels eyes on him and looks to his right where Eddie sits. The other boy’s head is turned toward him, tracking his hand movements with his alert gaze. Then, with a flash of lighting, he’s turned back and it’s like he had never been facing Steve at all. Steve tries to ignore the small silent exchange.

A sharp whistling from down below floats up to them.

“They’re with that whistling guy, 10 o’clock!” Dustin yells, pointing at the boxes on the man’s dolly.

“What do you think’s in there?” Steve questions, squinting through the downpour, wishing his non-raincoat jacket had a hood.

“Guns, bombs?” Eddie replies, speculation lacing his words. His long curly hair is soaking wet. 

Robin agrees. “Chemical weapons?”

“Whatever it is, they’re armed to the teeth.” Dustin groans, still looking through the binocs at the scene beneath them, the lenses pointed at the men wearing black. Steve now sees that they are carrying guns.

Fantastic, Steve thinks. He voices his sarcasm out loud, using his hand to wipe his eyes and nodding his head.

“Great! That’s great.” It’s a quiet mutter, but Robin hears. She grins at him, quite obviously having the time of her life, adrenaline pumping through her veins.

The armed man on the left goes to the double doors, opening them somehow. A light from a panel shines red, then yellow, and finally green. The doors expose a room, but Steve can’t see what’s inside.

“Hey, what’s in there?” Eddie asks Dustin, voicing what Steve was wondering.

“It’s just more boxes.” Dustin shouts back.

Having had enough of not being able to see, Steve reaches over past Eddie to get to Dustin. “Let me check it out.” He tries to grab the binoculars.

“No, I’m still looking!” Dustin says, tightening his grip.

“Let me see it!” Steve urges, pulling them towards himself once more.

“Hang on!” Dustin replies, before Steve loses his grasp on the tool and it slips from his fingers. The momentum leaves Dustin tugging them too hard, banging them on the edge of the rooftop with a deafening clang. Steve is sure the people on the ground hear it. He doesn’t wait to find out.

“Duck!” He hisses, clutching both Eddie and Robin’s shoulders as he forces them down with him, turning so their backs rest on the edge of the roof. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Eddie do the same to Dustin, who lets go of the kid quickly.

As fear muddles Steve’s mind, his hand slides down Eddie’s arm and lands in his palm, their fingers interlacing. This gesture is met with the squeeze of Eddie’s hand in his. For a second, all they can do is breathe heavily, blinking away the rain. Steve’s brain short-circuits.

Then, Eddie tilts his head at him with apprehension and tugs his arm away quickly, like he’s surprised. Steve moves his gaze imperceptibly to the other’s, seeing trepidation in his face.

A man is shouting, but Steve can’t understand him because it’s in another language.

What the hell? And suddenly, it makes sense. Russians.

He grabs Robin’s jacket and hauls her up.

“Let’s go.” He whispers frantically to the others, already running to the door that leads back down to Scoops Ahoy, hoping they are following him. The sound of crunching gravel meets his ears, blending with the wind and rainfall.

He swings the door open and sprints down the stairs, finally looking behind him to see three other silhouettes. The door bangs shut and they run down the hallway, panting and gasping.

Eddie comes to a walk beside him. “Well, I think we found your Russians.”

And all Steve can do is nod.