Steddie // Meet-cute // Rated E // 3.4k words // Link to fic on AO3
Steve lives for the summer.
For as long as he can remember he’s yearned for the sweet, muggy air that it brings. Some of his fondest memories from his childhood are the days spent in the pool, his skin tight and warm from running around in the sun before the bright flash of cold when he’d cannonball into the deep end to cool off.
Even now as an adult, he loves the summer. Summertime means back yard barbecues with the brats, day-long bike rides through the park with Nance and Jonathan, and best of all, bar crawls with his best friend. Nothing makes Steve happier than seeing Robin cut up the dance floor two drinks in, her noodle arms up in the air as she chats up the latest babe in her long list of recent conquests.
That was supposed to be tonight’s plan. Robin had been ecstatic earlier in the month when their local watering hole had put up posters for a renaissance themed event, complete with a themed cocktail menu and costume contest.
“Nothing brings queer babes in quite like a renfaire,” She had grinned, shoving the poster into Steve’s face. “We’ll be drowning in bar maidens and beer, we have to go.”
Steve always struggled to say no to Robin, so he agreed to a fun filled evening of medieval boozing and pursuing with little complaint. Another hazy summer night to let loose and make some cherished memories. Or it would have been if not for the douchebag that’s been talking Steve’s ear off for the past twenty minutes.
“The thing they don’t tell you about sales is really how much time management goes into it,” The guy leans his arm on the bar so he can get further into Steve’s space.
“Uh huh,” Steve responds flatly, staring dead eyed at the rows of bottles behind the bar with his nose scrunched up in distaste at the over-powering smell of the douchebag’s cologne.
Steve isn’t really sure why this guy is even here. He’s not dressed on theme (neither is Steve but that’s besides the point) and seems annoyed by all the leather clad patrons elbowing for a seat at the bar. He’s got an air of confidence about him that Steve isn’t sure he’s earned and too little hair for the amount of product in it. He either hasn’t noticed Steve’s complete lack of interest or has decided that he’s up for a challenge because Steve hasn’t even given the guy the time of day and he still can’t catch a hint.
“Yeah, keeping track of meetings with clients is half the battle,” The guy says with a tone akin to nails screeching down a chalk board. “I’m so busy I almost don’t have time for midday work outs. But I always make sure to get them in anyway. Your health is the most important thing in your life, you know.”
“Uh huh,” Steve repeats, sending a look over his shoulder to see if he can spot Robin.
It’s not like he can’t get out of this situation on his own but it’s always easier to bail when he has her nearby as an excuse. He’s been putting a lot of effort into having more tact socially. Nancy had mentioned on a previous night out that Steve’s particular brand of rejection can come off as a bit…harsh. So as annoying as this guy is, Steve doesn’t want to ruin his evening by bitching him out over a failed pick up attempt. For all Steve knows this guy is bland but harmless and he doesn’t want a sad frat bro reject on his conscience.
Robin’s nowhere in sight, which is its own problem, so Steve leans finishes the last swig of beer and sets the bottle down on the bar with a loud clunk of finality.
“Look, you seem like a nice enough guy but I’m here with a friend and I’m really not looking for anything else,” Steve gives the guy a polite smile. “I’m sure there are plenty of other folks who would love to hear you talk about sales. But I’m going to go find my friend and probably head out for the night.”
The guy’s expression goes tight, his lips pulling down into a pissy little frown. Steve can feel his hackles go up as the guy positions himself closer, shifting his weight from one leg to the other as he leans even further into Steve’s space.
“Well, at least give me a chance,” The guy scoffs with a look that’s probably supposed to be playful but it makes Steve’s skin crawl instead. “You’ve barely gotten to know me. We’ve only been chatting for, like, ten minutes. How do you know you’re not missing out on a great thing here?”
“I’m pretty sure I know,” Steve lets some annoyance slip into his tone, his polite smile turning into a strained grimace. “I’m not interested in getting to know you anymore than I already have.”
“Come on, let me buy you a drink,” The guy tilts his head to the side. “That’ll help you loosen up a bit more and then we can really get to know one another. What do you say?”
Alright, fuck not being a bitch. This pushy, chauvinistic asshole isn’t worth Steve’s restraint. Steve turns to squint at him in disbelief, opening his mouth to verbally tear this guy a new asshole when he’s interrupted by a new voice just behind them.
“He said he wasn’t interested, man,” A guy's voice butts in, heavy with annoyance. “Why don’t you do us all a favor and fuck off?”
Steve and the asshole turn to look at the newcomer, both equally stunned into silence at the sight of a full grown man in a clown costume.
Steve swears the world stops for a second, everything going quiet and still as he takes in his knight in shining… face paint.
The clown’s staring down Steve’s would-be harasser, his painted on eyebrows pinched into a glare. The bar's lights burn bright behind him, silhouetting him like some sort of Shakespearean hero. His face is painted bright white, outlined by black paint. A black heart has been painted on the tip of his nose, with matching smaller hearts under each eye. Black lipstick stains his scowl. The color scheme matches his outfit, a black and white quilted vest with a poofy blouse of some kind underneath. He’s wearing a pair of ridiculous black pantaloons with the type of curled shoes Steve’s only ever seen in old paintings. To top it all off, sitting on top of his head is the most ridiculous hat Steve’s ever seen. Black and white with spikes jutting out, a small tinkling bell on the end of each spike. They jingle as the clown tips his head to the side in an obvious challenge.
The asshole stares at the man before he lets out an incredulous giggle.
“You can’t be serious,” The asshole pushes off the bar in a move that is probably supposed to be intimidating but reminds Steve more of the fits Dustin used to throw when he didn’t get his way as a kid. “Why don’t you mind your own business, Ronald McDonald?”
“Why don’t you take your own advice and mind yours?” The clown steps up into the guy's space and Steve’s eyebrows jump up when he notices the clown has several inches on his would-be harasser. “I’m not asking you again, man. Fuck off.”
Steve feels mildly like he’s fallen into the Twilight Zone as he watches the two stand off, each sizing the other up before the asshole scoffs.
“Whatever, he was being a frosty bitch anyway,” The asshole mutters to himself before shoulder checking the clown and skulking off.
The clown glares as he watches the guy walk away, brushing off his shoulder with a look of contempt before turning toward Steve.
“Are you alright?” The clown asks, his expression shifting into a concerned frown. “Sorry for butting in but that dude was being a total asshole.”
Steve can’t help himself any longer and bursts out laughing. The clown jumps in surprise, his expression going from confused to amused as Steve bends over and clutches at his waist.
“I-I’m sorry-” Steve wheezes as he tries to get ahold of himself. “-this is just the first time I’ve been saved from a creep at the bar by a clown.”
The clown in front of him gasps, his mouth dropped open in faux abject horror.
“My good sir,” The clown huffs theatrically, his hand pressed to his own chest in offense. “I am not a clown. I am a jester.”
“Oh, so an old clown then,” Steve rests his chin on his palm as he leans back against the bar, his smile widening as the clown- or jester- in front of him gives Steve a flat look.
“This is the thanks I get for saving you, huh?” The jester juts his lip out into a fake pout. “I put my life on the line and mockery is my reward? Figures.”
“Saving me?” Steve quirks an eyebrow. “The only person you saved was that jerk from getting a verbal ass kicking. I was planning on ripping him a new one before you jumped in. Not that I’m complaining, obviously. I don’t know that his ego will survive being told off by a clown- oh, excuse me, a jester.”
The jester in front of him stays quiet for a moment, an amused grin growing on his face as he lets his gaze roam up and down Steve’s body.
“What?” Steve raises an eyebrow. “What was that look for?”
“I’m trying to decide if it’s rude to hit on a guy after chasing off the last person who tried their luck,” The jester hums in thought. “I think the answer is yes, but I also think you might be the love of my life so I’m a bit conflicted.”
Steve lets out a startled laugh, his cheeks going pink as the jester's grin widens.
“Love of your life? Coming on a bit strong there, aren’t we?” Steve says. “You don’t even know my name.”
“That’s alright, I’ll give you mine,” The jester taps his foot against Steve’s ankle, the bell at the curled end tinkling quietly. “At the altar, after my vows.”
Steve bites his lower lip, attempting to contain his charmed smile and failing spectacularly.
“Why don’t we start with a drink first and then make our way to wedding vows?” Steve suggests, gesturing to the empty seat next to him. “My name is Steve and you can buy me a piña colada."
“Oh, I can, can I?” The jester lets a slow cheshire grin crawl across his face. “Well, my name's Eddie and I’d love to. Thank you so much for the permission, Sweetheart.”
Eddie sits down, scooting the stool closer to Steve before knocking on the bar with two knuckles.
“One piña colada for the handsome gentleman and a shirley temple for myself,” Eddie says once the bartender comes over. “Extra cherries, please. If you don’t mind.”
“Are you going to try to impress me with the cherry stem trick?” Steve asks once the bartenders left. “Because I’ve seen that before. In fact, I bet I can do it faster. It’s a real hit on first dates.”
“So Stevie’s hard to impress and has a wicked tongue, huh?” Eddie’s eyes crinkle when he smiles. “Guess I’ll have to pull out all the stops for you, won’t I?”
The bartender sets their drinks down as Eddie fishes around in his pants pocket. He pulls out a deck of cards, flipping through them with a flourish as Steve sips at his piña colada.
“Your back up plan is a card trick?” Steve shoots him a skeptical look over his straw. “Maybe you should have stuck with the cherry stems.”
“Yee of little faith! This trick is guaranteed to make you swoon, or your money back,” Eddie nods seriously, shuffling the cards with ease. “What do you say, are you in?”
Steve rolls his eyes fondly and nods.
“Show me what you got,” he challenges. “But if it’s lame you owe me another drink.”
“Deal, now pick a card-” Eddie says in a carnival barker accent. “-any card.”
Steve humors him and leans forward, plucking a single card out. They’re a bit beat up, clearly well loved and Steve can’t help but be charmed at the idea of Eddie practicing card tricks enough for there to be visible wear and tear on the cards.
“Now what do I do?” Steve pulls the card toward himself.
“Flip it over without showing me, memorize the number and the suit, and then hand it back,” Eddie grins. “I’ll take care of the rest.”
Steve glances at his card, the queen of spades, before handing it back to Eddie face down. Eddie slips it back into his deck, shuffling elaborately before setting the entire deck on the table and pulling off the top three cards.
“Are any of these your card?” He holds three cards out, his grin still wide but it's tinged by the slightest hint of anxiety.
Steve looks at the cards presented toward him, blinking with surprise when he sees all three have something written on them.
A date of your choice, Fool around in the bathroom, and Not actually interested, thanks.
Steve feels himself fall head over ass the second he finishes reading each one, unable to hide his completely lovesick expression as he looks over the cards to find Eddie nervously staring back.
“Well?” Eddie asks after a few seconds of silence. “Don’t keep this poor clown waiting.”
Steve doesn’t say anything, just gives Eddie a small, amused smile as he plucks two cards out from between his finger tips. He lays Fool around and Date of your choice face up on the bar.
“Well, would you look at that? These are my cards,” Steve hums, his eyelids lowered. “You really are a magician. I have to ask though, have you done this trick before? There’s no shot you had a chance to write those while I was sitting right here staring at you.”
“A magician never reveals his secrets but- well-, yes,” Eddie shrinks into his shoulders giving Steve a sheepish look. “But it's uh- never worked before.”
“Good,” Steve stands up from his stool. “Because I don’t like sharing. You coming or what?”
The walk to the bathroom is a bit of a blur. All Steve knows is one minute he’s checking over his shoulder to make sure Eddie is following after him and the next his cheek is smooshed against the cool metal wall of a bathroom stall as Eddie drills into him from behind.
“Oh, fuck-” Steve moans, plastering his palms flat against the stall wall so he has better leverage to push back into each of Eddie’s thrusts. “Faster, Eddie, faster-”
Eddie, to his credit, is an incredible listener, grunting as he forces his hips to piston in and out at what feels like an inhuman pace. Steve feels the face paint smudged against his lips drag against the wall, leaving a smear of black and white behind. Steve giggles deliriously at the sound of jingling bells matching Eddie’s every thrust.
“Close?” Eddie asks, breathless and wheezing as he adjusts his grip on Steve’s hips.
“Yeah, baby, yes,” Steve sucks air in through his teeth, arching his neck back so Eddie can lean forward and leave sloppy kisses up the side of his neck. “Come on, give it to me.”
Eddie lets out a cut off whine before burying his face in Steve’s shoulder and fucking him so hard the stall door starts to rattle.
“Fuck yeah, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me-” is all Steve manages to grit out before Eddie groans loudly, his thrusts faltering as he comes.
Eddie sneaks a clumsy hand down the front of Steve’s underwear, his pants just barely below his ass because they were in such a rush.
“Wanna see a magic trick?” Eddie asks breathlessly in his ear and Steve’s eyebrows furrow together.
“Don’t- that’s so corny-” Steve starts complaining before moaning loudly as Eddie’s free hand starts fingering him from behind.
Eddie quickly drills his fingers into Steve’s prostate, matching with each stroke of his cock and Steve’s eyes practically roll into the back of his skull as he comes all over the stall wall.
“Tada,” Eddie sings weakly, giggling when Steve reaches back to smack his thigh.
“Don’t- tada after fucking me,” Steve pants as he gets his bearings. “What the fuck?”
Eddie hums, pulling his fingers out and then dragging Steve back into a hug.
“Too much?” Eddie asks, his voice shy and full of humor.
“...No,” Steve grumbles. “I just hate that I think it’s cute. Grab me some toilet paper? I’ve got cum dripping down my thigh.”
Eddie obliges, taking the time to help clean him up with short breaks for stolen kisses. They finally emerge from the bathroom once Steve is certain he’s scrubbed all of Eddie’s face paint off his neck. There’s no saving Eddie’s smeared make up but based on the smug smile he’s carrying around, he doesn’t seem to mind.
They make their way back to the bar, their seats long since stolen and their watered down drinks gone.
“Here, give me the queen of spades,” Steve asks as he snags a pen from behind the bar. “I need to go find my friend but I wanted to give you my number before I head out. I want that date you promised me.”
Eddie pulls the deck out again, thumbing through each card before finding the queen of spades and handing it to Steve. Steve quickly jots down his number before pressing the card against Eddie’s chest, right over his heart.
“Don’t-” Steve stares him down with a serious look. “-lose that, okay? I mean it, jester’s aren’t normally my thing but there’s something about you that I’ve found myself annoyingly attached to. Besides, you still have to show me that cherry trick.”
“Baby, I’d sooner lose my dick than lose your phone number,” Eddie takes the card, bringing Steve’s hand up to press a few soft kisses against his knuckles. “I’ll call you right when I get home. I await your call back on baited breath.”
“You’d better,” Steve grumbles, his heart squeezing in his chest at each small kiss. “I’ve been told I can be a real frosty bitch if I don’t get my way.”
“Well, we can’t have that can we?” Eddie grins against his knuckles before dropping Steve’s hand. “I have to go, I see my friends. But I’ll call right when I get home, okay? Before the door even shuts behind me.”
Steve catches the sight of Robin over Eddie’s shoulder, her jaw dropped open in horror and shock. Eddie tucks the queen of spades into his breast pocket, tapping it once before jogging off to meet up with his friends. Robin appears at his side almost immediately after. She must have speed walked the entire length of the bar to get to him so fast.
“Hmmm?” Steve hums in response, only half listening as he turns to watch Eddie disappear into the crowd. “What?”
“Did you just fuck that clown in the bar bathroom?” Robin makes her distaste known by her flat tone of utter disbelief.
“Jesus, Robin,” Steve rolls his eyes. “He’s a jester, not a clown.”
Robin stares at him, eyebrows going high on her forehead as she glances between Eddie and Steve meaningfully.
“...But yes, obviously we fucked in the bathroom,” Steve huffs, his face going hot as Robin lets out a noise of disgust. “What? Like you’ve never fucked a hot clown in a bathroom before.”
“No, Steve, I can pretty confidently say I’ve never fucked a hot clown in a bathroom.”
“Well, that’s just clearly not true,” Steve crosses his arms over his chest. “The amount of eye shadow Stacy had on a few weeks ago qualifies her for clownship, like, immediately."
Steve ducks out of the way with a giggle as Robin childishly swats at him, cursing under her breath as Steve shields his face from her slaps. They head out shortly after that, both laughing and whispering hushed rememberings of their evening's escapades. Steve can’t remember the last time he smiled so much and his smile only gets bigger when he gets home and there’s a voicemail already waiting for him on their answering machine.
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