#hmmmm....

It’s usually a string of regulars, along with a smattering of first or second timers. 

Robin and Steve have gotten to know most of their customers fairly well. They tend to attract what they believe to be the “the right crowd.” They’re not very creative with it, but it works. 

Every now and then, though, some asshole will slip through, and Steve will have to turn on his long ditched high school persona to get them the fuck out of his store. Only a few times has he had to get slightly physical. And only once has he ever had to fight someone. 

Let’s just say it ended with someone (Steve) on the floor and someone (the asshole) kicking him in the ribs. Until someone (Max) came out of nowhere and knocked the dude clean out with her skateboard. 

Yeah. 

That wasn’t a fun night. 

If Hopper didn’t have city connections, they would’ve been royally fucked. 

Still pays to know a police chief who has such a storied background that Steve honestly never wants to have to learn. 

And though he told her to not get involved if it happened again, Steve couldn’t help but feel a massive surge of pride at his little sister stepping in to a fight to defend him and winning. 

She’s kind of a badass.

Anyway, Steve and Robin are on the bar, working through mid-morning rush orders. They’ve got their system down pretty well. Today, Dustin is working the register, taking down orders while Steve and Robin make drinks. 

They can generally expect to have at least one of the kids-not-so-kids in the shop a few times a week. He doesn’t mind. He likes having them around, being able to pay them a bit. And, it helps Steve and Robin avoid having to hire anyone they don’t already know. They’re perfectly content keeping this store to themselves. 

Call it a lack of trust of anyone outside of their codependent bubble. 

Not unwarranted.

They’ve accepted it. 

Robin slides down a few drinks. Steve pushes up his glasses, reads the tickets. He grabs the various milks and syrups, starts finishing the drinks off.

All the while, Steve’s ears are focused on the playlist softly carrying behind the din of chatting customers. He lets the music swirl through his brain, wrapping him in some warm blanket of calm. Still staunchly refusing to acknowledge that feeling longer than he has to. 

Because it’s another playlist from Eddie. 

Barista Bops. 

Steve chuckled at the name, but Eddie just lovingly smiled and told him it was to lift the mood a bit. And he promised it was work appropriate when Steve raised a brow.

Steve’s just waiting to hear what Max thinks. He smiles to himself, thinks about how the music will absolutely be the first thing she notices. She’s like a vulture with braids and a wicked swing. 

He swipes the cinnamon shaker and shakes it across the two drinks he’s working on, then walks them to the pickup section. “Two medium spiced apple ciders for Lin.”

Steve smiles, nods as Lin picks up her drinks. “Hope the store’s going well. Been meaning to hop over.”

Lin smiles in return. “Oh, please do. You and Robin gotta take a break sometime and come by. Jade and I would love to show you how we’ve updated the space.”

“Oooh, don’t threaten me with a good time, Linny.” Robin croons, smile blinding. 

Lin chuckles as Steve rolls his eyes. “We’ll work it out and let you know for sure. Give Jade a hug for me.”

“And a bigger hug for me!” Robin chirps.

“Will do. See ya!” Lin leaves, drinks in hand. 

Steve turns back to Robin, picks up where he left off. “Vying for Lin’s good side? I’m still her favorite.”

Robin scoffs. “As if.”

“Don’t know what to tell ya, Robs.” Steve sings. “I’m just more charming than you.”

“Oh, is that so?” 

“It’s all in the hair. Makes all the people swoon for me.”

“Lin is literally a lesbian.” Robin deadpans. 

“I do not see how that’s relevant.” Steve shrugs, smile tugging at his lips. He hears laughter from some of the customers – people who are mostly used to their antics by now, so he’s not entirely concerned.

“‘He doesn’t see how that’s relevant’, he says.” Robin mocks. 

Steve holds his hands up in front of him, an innocent smile plastered on his face. “Hey, don’t hate the hair, hate the game.”

“That makes literally zero sense, dingus.”

“Don’t gotta make sense when I got this smile.” He flashes a sly smile at them, bats his eyelashes.

“Oh, so now it’s your smile I have to compete with? Thought it was the hair?” Robin quirks a brow, slides down a few more drinks. 

Steve shrugs, taking his time to carefully finish up the coffees. He picks them up, steps backward as he smirks at Robin. “What can I say? I’m the whole package, sugarplum.” He swoops his hair dramatically. Robin, and several customers, break down laughing as Steve hits his back against the counter, nearly losing his balance. 

Steve chuckles, drops his head briefly. “We’re gonna ignore that one. Alright. I’ve got a large iced pumpkin spice latte for Thomas, a large oat latte for Sam,” Robin slides two more down the line, “aaaaand two medium hot ciders for Jeff.” He sets down the drinks as he calls them out, smiles as their owners dutifully retrieve them. “Have a good day!”

“Smooth, casanova. Smooth.” Robin widens their eyes, nods slowly as if they just witnessed the epitome of smoothness. 

“Oh, fuck off.” He tosses his towel at them. 

They duck.

Which means the towel smacks Dustin’s shoulder instead.

Dustin turns mid-order, brows scrunched. “Hey! What was that for?”

“Dingus’ fault!” Robin sings as they dance over to the sink to wash their hands.

“Oh my–you are so dead, Robs. Just you wait.” Steve squints his eyes, points two fingers at his own eyes, then at them. “Sleep with one eye open.”

Robin sticks out their tongue.

Dustin sighs. “Some of us are trying to work here.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Steve picks up his towel, tosses it in the bin under the counter. He bumps Robin over at the sink, starts washing his own hands, whistling loudly as he does so. 

Robin bumps him back. “I was here first.”

Steve squints his eyes, looks up. “Dustin, did you hear something? No? Huh, must be a draft in here.”

Robin hums beside him. Cups their hands under the water.

And then splashes water in his face. 

Steve sputters, chuckles slightly in disbelief. “Hey!”

“Get your own sink, dingus.” Robin smirks, starts shaking their hands over the sink. 

“This is my sink, dork.” He flicks water back at them. 

Dustin groans behind them. “Please, I am begging you. Begging. Do not start another water fight in the middle of the store.”

“We have no idea what you’re talking about.” Steve and Robin say in eerily perfect unison.

Dustin shudders. “God, that will never not be creepy.” 

Someone chuckles, a hearty thing that slips straight into Steve’s veins.

Steve’s head shoots straight up, the hairs on the back of his neck prickling.

Because he knows that laugh. Almost too well at this point.

He glances sideways at Robin who has wholly and completely clocked him already based on the massive grin on their face. They nudge him, eyes furtively pinging between him and over their shoulder. 

“Talk to him.” Robin mouths.

“No.” Steve whisper-screams.

“Yes.” Robin whisper-screams back.

Steve ignores them, focuses intently on washing his hands. Tries to ignore the burning feeling of eyes on him. 

That is, until Robin grabs the sink sprayer and shoots it. 

Directly in his face.

Steve sputters, dumbfounded.

Dustin groans behind them. “What did I just ask you not to do?” 

Robin smirks, sprayer still in hand, eyebrow quirked. 

“Holy shit.” Eddie says, disbelief lacing his honey-thick voice. 

“You are so dead, Buckley.” Steve threatens, one hand wiping his face, which doesn’t accomplish all that much as he looks down and remembers he was just, in fact, washing his hands. “Son of a–” He wipes his hands on his apron.

“Try me, casanova.” Robin blows at the sprayer like it’s the smoking end of a pistol, before jumping into a wide legged stance, both hands on the sprayer as they point it directly at Steve. They close one eye, lean their head slightly to the side. “Hands in the air. I’ve got a sprayer and I know how to use it.”

“Oh, that’s the game we’re playing today?” 

Robin quirks their brow up, amusement tickling their features. 

Steve nods, rolls his tongue across his dampened lips. “Alright, cool. Cool. Yeah, two can play at this game.” He pulls a whipped cream canister from his belt loop holster – because, yes, he has a holster for whip cream that he wears in the middle of rushes. 

It’s convenient, okay?

He assumes the same stance as Robin, whipped cream canister pointed at them, both hands poised to fire. “Set down the sprayer and no one has to get creamed.”

“Jesus–” Eddie chokes out, laughter bubbling out of him. 

Steve quirks a smile at that, eyes still firmly locked on Robin – who wholly and completely noticed it. 

“Please, I am begging you both–”

“Stay out of this, Dusty-kins.” Robin snipes, eyes never leaving Steve. “This doesn’t concern you.”

“I told you not to call me that.” Dustin whines. 

Steve takes a step forward. He drops his voice a few octaves, coats on an overly dramatic Southern accent. “Bold of you to show yer face in this town ‘gain, Robius.”

“Robius?” Dustin whispers. “What the–”

“Thought I told ya to stay ‘way. This here land?” Steve ticks his jaw up. “‘S my territory.” 

Robin steps forward, voice taking a haughty quality. “Ah, see, that’s where you’re wrong, Stephius. This is my land. My birthright. Your people stole it from me, you see.” 

“What I see is you’ve gone confused in yer old age.” Steve moves forward another two steps, fingers dancing across the handle of his canister. “Shame, really. Shall I ‘range a carriage to take you back on yonder home? Wouldn’t want ya gettin’ hurt out here all ‘lone.”

“That isn’t necessary, see. I’m not the one who’ll be hurt out here.” Robin quirks an eyebrow. “Holster your weapon and you’ll live to see another day, see.”

“Holster yers first.”

“For the love of– can you two please just get back to work?” Dustin pleads. 

Robin glances at Dustin, smirks as an idea crosses their brain. Steve registers it the second it flits across their face, bites his lip to stifle back the laugh threatening to bubble up.

Robin steps to the side. “I said holster your weapon, Stephius.” They reach out, tug a protesting Dustin by the sleeve, put the sprayer up to his head. “Or the kid gets it.”

Somewhere to Steve’s right, Eddie gasps out, “No, not the kid. Think of the kid, Stephius! Won’t you think of the kid!”

Steve smiles, stares at a very unamused, grumpy Dustin, and a very in character Robin. He cocks his head to the side, licks his lips. “How do I know you ain’t jus’ lyin’? That ya ain’t gon’ fire the second I comply?”

“Well, Stephius,” Robin shakes their sprayer, presses it against Dustin’s shoulder. “I guess that’s a risk you’ll have to take, see.”

Steve takes a moment, lets the thought process cover his face, makes a big show of warring between his options. He sees movement to his right, glances slightly over and watches as Eddie holds a finger to his lips as he quietly slides behind the counter. Steve swallows down a smile, flicks his eyes back to Robin. 

Robin, who’s looking at him, curiosity etched across their brows.

“I’m not too convinced. I’m gon’ need some assurance you ain’t gon’ take us both out.”

“Assurance? He wants assurance, does he?” Robin mocks. “I assure you, Stephius, see, that if you don’t comply, things are gonna get real chaotic real fast, see.”

“Drop the sprayer ‘n release the kid, Robius. Yer done fer.” Eddie drawls, accent coming out smooth like molasses.

A bottle of water with a sports lid in his hand.

Pointed directly at Robin.

Robin’s eyes sparkle wide at Steve, who decidedly refuses to acknowledge their expression. His eyes, instead, are widened in awe locked on Eddie – Eddie, who is smiling coyly at him, like they’d planned this all along, like they’d been dancing this dance for years like Steve and Robin had, able to read each other so plainly.

Steve decides to ignore the warmth that floods his body at that.

Robin scowls. “Ah, Edius. I should have expected you’d be working with Stephius, see.” 

“That you should’ve. Now let the kid go ‘n no one has’ta get hurt.” 

Robin smirks at Steve, mouths something that looks a lot like “told you” at him, before letting Dustin go.

“Hands where I can see ‘em.” Steve orders, eyes flicking back to Robin’s, his brow lifting ever so slightly.

But enough.

“I know when I’ve been beat, see.” Robin slowly raises their hands.

Steve and Robin share another look.

A beat passes.

And then all hell breaks loose.

They both turn on Eddie and start spraying, equal parts whipped cream and water. Dustin yelps and jumps over the counter, joins the few remaining customers laughing on the other side, some of them with their phones up recording the entire thing. 

Steve and Robin halt their attack briefly.

Eddie sputters, jumps back, eyes glinting at Steve, hand held to his chest. “Stephius, how could you?”

Steve smirks. “Sorry, Edius. My only allegiance is to anarchy.” 

“Hear hear!” Robin echoes. 

Eddie scoff-laughs. Looks at Robin, then at Steve. Drops the accent as he says, “Well, if anarchy is the case.”

And then he starts spraying his own bottle at them. 

The three of them devolve into a chaotic mess of spraying water and whipped cream, their attacks constantly moving, no one exempt from the onslaught. By the time Eddie and Steve have emptied their weapons, they drop to the ground, hands held up as Robin lords the sink sprayer above them.

“Any last words, Edius and Stephius?”

Eddie and Steve look at each other, faces slick with water and melting whipped cream. Eddie reaches out, grabs Steve’s hand in his own, something that shoots fireworks through Steve’s nervous system, before turning back to Robin. 

“I humbly ask that you lay us to peaceful rest, Robius.” Eddie bows, pulling Steve along into a bow with him.

Robin hums.

Then sprays them both on the back of the head, sending them both flat to the ground. 

Robin blows off the edge of their sprayer and lets it slink back into place at the sink, shutting off the water. They turn and see Dustin and a few other regulars in the lobby. Several phones pointed at them. “Uh–”

The lobby erupts in cheers, shouts of “Robius!” carrying through the shop. Robin laughs, face flushing bright red beneath the remnants of the fight as they bow at the adoring crowd. “Thank you, thank you. You’re too kind.”

They turn, nudge Steve with their foot. “Get up, dingus one and dingus two. Back to reality.”

Steve groans, pulls himself up on his knees, dragging Eddie with him because he is simply not about to let this man’s hand go, are you kidding me? He’s willing to play handholding chicken if he has to. 

As if reading his mind, Eddie squeezes Steve’s hand as he pulls himself up to his knees, throws a lopsided grin Steve’s way. “How’d I do, Stephius?”

Steve snorts. “I’d say pretty well, but pretty sure we lost.”

“Psh, that’s only ‘cause Robius up there had an infinite supply of water on their side.”

“Play smarter, not harder, losers.” Robin sings, holds out their hands to help pull them both to standing. 

The three of them stare at each other in various stages of dampness and whipped cream coverage. Then, they burst out laughing. 

Eddie, sadly, lets go of Steve’s hand somewhere in the process.

Steve turns to the lobby, pushes his wholly-useless-at-this-point glasses on top of his head, wipes a hand down his face. He makes a big show of taking a deep breath before clasping his hands in front of him. “Thank you for your patience as we handled a very important business matter. For your cooperation and understanding, please enjoy free coffee and breakfast on behalf of Robius here.” He pulls Robin over, arm slung across their shoulders. “You know, since these are their lands and all.” 

Robin snorts beside him. The customers cheer. 

Steve turns to Dustin, shoots him a sympathetic grimace. “Hey, bud.”

“Mhm.” Dustin has his arms crossed his chest, brows raised in attempted disdain, though the smile tugging at his lips betrays him.

“Can you ring them up, just comp coffee and breakfast for ‘em for me?” 

“Yeah, yeah.” Dustin slides back behind the register, starts ringing up the few regulars who bore witness to the chaos. 

Steve turns to Eddie. “Sorry you got all,” Steve gestures at the whole of him, “ya know.”

Eddie chuckles. “I knew what I was getting myself into, sweetheart. I’d fight by your side any day.”

Steve blushes, ducks his head. 

“But,” Eddie ducks his head. “I don’t think Gareth’ll be too happy if I roll in looking like I fell in a pool of melted whipped cream.” 

Steve’s eyes widen. “Oh, shit, you’re on the way to work aren’t you?”

Eddie glances at his watch. “Well, sort of?” He raises a brow. “I mean, yes, in like, a few hours.”

“Oh.” Steve furrows his brow.

Eddie drags a damp piece of hair across his face. “I might’ve just wanted to, uh, get an early coffee in.”

Something about the way he says it feels a lot more like “I wanted to see you” and not just coffee. 

Steve immediately squashes the hopeful part of him thinking that in favor of just wallowing in the pit of despair that is his brain.

There’s a tiny Robin in his brain kicking him for it that he ignores.

“Yeah, no, I get it. Gotta be caffeinated to take on the day.”

“Best caffeine in town here.”

Steve nods. “Yeah. Yep. We got good stuff. The best.”

“Not to mention the barista making it.” Eddie smiles, something soft and lazy and completely wrecking all of Steve’s nerves in the process.

“Uh–”

"Oh." Eddie quirks a brow, takes a hesitant step forward. “You’ve got a, uh–”

“Hm?” Steve blinks, cocks his head a bit.

“Can I?” Eddie’s voice is quiet between them as he lifts a hand, gestures at Steve’s face.

“Oh. Uh, um, ye–yeah. Yes.” 

Then, Eddie reaches out, thumb gently swiping across Steve’s brow. Steve goes fully rigid at the contact. His eyes are transfixed on Eddie the whole time. And he’s sure the gasp he makes is something no one should ever hear in the light of day. 

Eddie slowly pulls his hand back, a glob of melted cream on his thumb. And, without breaking eye contact, he sucks his thumb clean.

Jesus what the fuck oh my god did he just really what the fuck is this happening–

“Got it.” Eddie’s smile is far too cheeky, as if he knows he just permanently altered Steve’s entire brain chemistry through one simple touch.

What feels like about 27 hours pass, but is more realistically about 4 seconds. 4 seconds in which Steve feels like he reconsiders his entire goddamn life up to this point because how the fuck did he get here? How did he get to Eddie fucking Munson standing before him dripping wet and touching him? 

Shit, he should probably say something, shouldn’t he?

Steve blinks, finally, his eyes now wholly irritated through mixture of cream and lack of blinking. He swallows hard. Tries to do anything to get some semblance of his bearings together. “Yeah, uh, um. Thanks. You know, for the, uh,” he waves his hands around.

“Yeah?” Eddie’s smiling. Mischief glinting in the softness of his eyes.

Jesus. This fucker knows exactly what he’s doing and Steve is so completely helpless as he takes in the entirety of Eddie’s form right now.

Eddie, standing there, fully drenched, his t-shirt sticking to his stomach, riding up the slightest bit, showing off thick hair and inky lines that Steve desperately wants to trace. Eddie’s jeans sit heavy on his hips, barely held on by a clunky leather and metal belt. His leather jacket looking ostensibly uncomfortable. His hair softly stuck to his forehead, small tight curls forming at the ends. 

And, as if that wasn’t enough, the remnants of whipped cream dot the expanse of his body. Smeared across his arms, a line down the column of his neck, a glob drifting down his cheek, splatters across his jeans. 

Fucking hell.

Giving a whole new meaning to the term “wet dream” before Steve’s very eyes. 

It takes all of Steve’s restraint not to do something stupid like grab Eddie by the collar, push him against the pastry case, and lick up the cream on his neck, leaving bite marks behind instead. 

Fuck.

Steve can’t do that.

The driving pillar behind that restraint being that Steve is fully aware of the small gaggle of customers talking somewhere behind him. 

A thought slips through his mind, curls up hot at the base of his skull.

Maybe, just maybe –

Steve takes a half step forward, eyes locked on Eddie’s.

Eddie, who looks mildly surprised, but entirely pleased if the way he lightly sucks in his bottom lip, runs his tongue across it jesus fucking christ, is anything to go by.

Steve’s entire brain is shouting at him how stupid it is, but right now, he simply does not have it in him to care. Not when Eddie is smiling so brilliantly at him. Not when Eddie’s eyes are soft and warm and full of something that dangerously looks like hope. Not when Eddie is leaning closer to him, the tips of their shoes nearly touching. 

Not when Eddie flicks his eyes down to Steve’s lips and stays there for longer than could be considered friendly.

Right?

Fuck it.

“Hey, Ed–”

Robin groans, props themself against Steve’s shoulder. “If I don’t get out of this mess in the next 15 minutes, it will become everybody’s problem.” 

Steve chuckles, feels all of whatever bravado he had slip away as he silently thanks whatever gods may or may not exist for putting Robin in his life to interrupt these kinds of disaster-in-the-making moments. They’ve got, like, a bat radar for this.

Instead of saying any of that and inflating their ego more, he just nods. “Same.”

“I think there’s whipped cream in my shoes.” Eddie squishes his feet on the absolutely wrecked floor.

“Oh, shit.” Steve jogs over and grabs the squeegee. “You can go shower, Robs. I’ll get the floor.”

“Or,” Robin grabs the squeegee. “I take care of this, and you help out Eddie.”

In that moment, Steve wants nothing more than to empty another canister of whipped cream on Robin. Thinks maybe whatever gods may exist want to see him suffer after all.

“C’mon, dingus. You aren’t about to let your favorite customer walk around like that the rest of the day, are you?”

“Jesus–”

“Favorite, huh?” 

He turns to Eddie. “I will confirm– no, wait – neither confirm nor deny.” 

The smile Eddie shares is dazzling in intensity. “That why you’re playing my playlist?”

“Oh, uh, well –”

Robin clamps a hand down on his shoulder. “It’s a solid playlist and we’re loving every second of it. Isn’t that right, Dusty-kins?

“Don’t pull me into this!” Dustin yells from the register. 

“Just gotta wait for Max’s approval. That’s the real test.” Eddie looks sheepish. “Right.”

Robin squeezes Steve’s shoulder, pushes him two steps to the right, and continues to squeegee the floor.

Steve blinks. Looks over at Eddie. Ignores everything in his brain telling him to stop. “Uh–well, um, I know you said you have a bit before you have to go in, but, uh, I don’t know if you’re close by or, uh–”

“Yeah, sweetheart?” 

Steve’s stomach flips at that, his cheeks furiously blushed. He clears his throat. “You can say no, but, our place is up there if you wanna take a shower to wash off the remnants of our chaos.” 

Eddie’s eyes twinkle, his lips formed in a soft smile. “Yeah?”

Robin butts between them, an arm around each of their shoulders. “Steve here has the good shit to shower with too. Plus we have amazing water pressure. Somehow.” 

Eddie chuckles. “Yeah. Yeah, that’d be great, actually. Save me a very uncomfortable car ride. Thanks.”

Steve nods. “Right. Yeah. Cool. Totally, yeah. Yep.”

“Uh, hello!” Dustin snaps his fingers, causing the three of them to jump. “You can’t just leave me here alone.” He gestures at the waiting customers, who are chatting amongst themselves…their orders waiting to be made, because Dustin has effectively rang all of them up already.

Oops.

Steve deflates. “Shit, yeah, he’s right.” He sighs, pushes down his disappointment. “Rob, can you take–”

“--over here while you and Eddie go get cleaned up? 100%! absolutely!” Robin chimes, stepping back and pushing them forward. 

Steve furrows his brow. “But you just said–”

“--that I’m going to run bar for a bit so you guys can get cleaned up, yes I did.” Robin nods furiously.

“Uh–”

“Oh, for goodness – they’re staying here so you can go flirt in your shower, Steve.”

Steve blanches at that, mouth falling open. “Dustin!” 

“Well!” 

“Oh my god, I am so firing you.”

“No, you aren’t.” 

“I might.” 

“Mhm.” Dustin starts bagging pastries from the case. “Now can I please get a barista over here?”

Robin laughs, looks over at Steve. “Dingus, go. I promise I’m fine. Plus, Max will be in for her shift in, like, 30 minutes. We’ll trade off, I’ll let her on bar, and then I’ll come up and shower and change too, okay?” 

Steve softens a bit. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.” 

Then, he turns to Eddie.

Who is smiling wide. 

Steve points at the stairs. “Well – you ready?”

“So ready, sweetheart.”

So, Steve unlocks the door and leads Eddie up to the apartment.

To take a shower.

Yeah.

He’s not freaking out. At all. 

taglist (open):@sunshine-daydreams0809@saramelaniemoon@probablyin-bed@bookworm0690@watermelonmite@sanctumdemunson@5-fievel@nicememerino

divider credit:@saradika-graphics

thank you for reading :)

an: chapter four of my winter exchange fic for @mission2mordor is here! the boys are flirting again <3 and now steve gets to take a very wet and sticky eddie up to his apartment...

big special thank you to @probablyin-bed for reading my chaotic jumble of writing and helping me organize my thoughts. <3

btw go read corbyn's fics! they're seriously so freaking talented oh my god mission2mordor ao3 @mission2mordor < tumblr