Chapter Text
May 6, 1985
“So, do you have any experience with food service?” The woman sitting in front of Steve Harrington seemed nice enough, if not a tad unenthusiastic. She couldn’t have been older than 35, but she was pretty in an effortless, casual way. When he first saw her, the woman reminded Steve of some sort of 70s rock star, like if Stevie Nicks retired from music to follow her dreams of managing a Scoops Ahoy location. She sat across from Steve at one of the small tables stuffed into the tiny, half-furnished ice cream parlor, her long, wispy hair pinned in the back with a clip as she looked up from her notepad.
Her name was something basic, like Jenn, or Lisa.
Shit, Steve thought. I’m going to get rejected from this stupid ice cream shop job because I can’t remember the goddam woman interviewing me’s name. He could hear his father now, berating him. “Seriously, Steve?” he’d say, his voice dripping with disappointment, his arms thrown into the air. “You couldn’t even get into ‘Tech, and now you can’t even land a job at the stupid goddamn ice cream parlor? No wonder that Wheeler girl left you.” At this point, Steve was all too familiar with his father’s “you’re an utter disappointment” speech. He was not keen to hear it again. Straightening up, he fiddled with the sleeves of his maroon sweater as he tried to remember this woman’s name.
Christine!
It came to him as if a comical light bulb had just lit up above his head. That’s what had drawn the comparison in his mind to Fleetwood Mac in the first place. Fleetwood Mac was, of course, Nancy Wheeler’s favorite band, and as the dedicated boyfriend he was, Steve had paid close attention every time she talked about them. Now, of course, that she had broken his heart into tiny little pieces, the extensive knowledge he now had about said band was worth nothing, except to distract him during a mildly important job interview. Nancy Wheeler; the gift that keeps on giving.
He sighed, composing himself and fixing his famous hair.
Yes, that’s it. Her name is Christine.
“Well, Christine,” Steve started, turning on the classic Harrington charm, usually reserved for babes, but easily applicable to a job interview, “-though I haven’t held any previous positions in food service per se, I have lots of skills applicable to this, uh position in particular.”
Christine looked bemused, nodding as she took notes on the tiny notepad on the table between them. This was not his first job interview since graduation, but he was determined to make it his last. Starcourt Mall was brand-new to Hawkins, Indiana, and from the moment its creation was publicized, every single resident of the town was abuzz with excitement. Their small town had never known anything like this, and Steve might have cared when he was actually in high school, but now that he was a graduate with no prospects, be it with women or in life, he felt like this was just another boring chapter in his story. But, to Dustin Henderson, Steve’s preteen partner in crime, the Starcourt Mall was everything. He remembered the nerd sharing the news with him, his voice filled with the level of joy and passion Dustin was known for. Sometimes it made Steve feel strange, thinking about all the affection he had for that kid. He may not have, well, anything else going for him in life, but he sure did have Dustin Henderson. And, when Dustin returned from summer camp and came to Starcourt for the first time, Steve would have a bounty of free ice cream waiting for him. He had to. For Dustin.
“Skills such as?” his interviewer continued,
Steve smiled, prepared to spew his bullshit.
For Dustin.
As he walked out of the Scoops Ahoy, resisting the urge to fist-bump the air, he passed a girl he recognized vaguely from school, nervously heading into the shop for what he assumed was another interview. It was cool, to walk through the new mall just weeks before opening. It was empty, but Steve knew it wouldn’t stay that way for long. He took in his surroundings, wondering if this was where he’d be stuck all summer. Well, he thought, thinking briefly about the Byers kid, trapped in an alternate dimension for days, there are worse places to be stuck, in Hawkins.
Steve got the job.
May 18, 1985
The girl, it turned out, was named Robin Buckley.
She sucked.
Steve felt like he had finally met his worst enemy. She was fine-looking, of course. Her hair was funky and short, and her eyeliner was always smudged in a way that had to be intentional, but Steve couldn’t figure out why anyone would want to do that to their makeup. It kind of suited her, though.
Fine, Steve thought she was a little bit more than just ‘fine-looking.’
Robin was cute.
But she sucked.
She was everything that Nancy Wheeler was not. She was rude like, all of the time. She was sarcastic, and mean. And Steve always found himself being used as the butt of the joke. In less than six months, he had watched his status as the ‘King of Hawkins’ fade. It wasn’t even just Billy Hargrove usurping him and being a hot lifeguard while Steve Harrington slung mediocre ice cream at a shopping mall - all the girls who used to worship him suddenly saw him as some sort of pathetic loser. Honestly, looking at himself from the outside, Steve could see what they saw. Now, he was just another Hawkins loser, working a minimum wage job in his hometown because he had run out of options.
But he sure as hell wasn’t going to start acting like it.
It was the opening day of Starcourt Mall, and it was packed. Scoops Ahoy had a line out the door, and as it was their first day working with actual customers, Steve and Robin were falling behind. Customers shouted their orders, changed their minds, and every single time, Steve forgot what they asked for. He was covered in sticky ice cream, and he knew there was at least one rainbow sprinkle in his hair. He and Robin were trying, and failing, to work as a team: Steve scooped the ice cream, and then Robin rang them up. He was better at talking to customers than she was, and she was better at math than him. Despite the chaos, they felt in control for the moment.
“Next!” Steve called, mindlessly handing the dripping cone in his hand to the woman in front of him as she moved to pay Robin. He reached down to wipe his hand on the disgusting towel hanging below the counter, already covered in the day’s mistakes. It didn’t do much, and his hand was still saturated in every color of ice cream imaginable. Yea, this is a new low for Steve Harrington. His hair, notably his best feature, was struggling underneath the stupid little sailor hat he was required to wear. Robin looked kind of adorable in her sailor suit, which wasn’t fair. Steve was sure he looked like the biggest idiot he had ever seen. The struggle to get from his mirror before work into the car was one he faced every single day.
The stupid little hat on his head was falling down. It had been threatening to do so for hours now, but had remained faithful until this point. He could feel it now, creeping down his forehead. He blew air desperately at it, which of course proved fruitless. As he struggled publicly, he could hear Robin laugh at him as she rang up the women he had just served. With the way his day was going, Steve was sure he’d look up to find the most attractive woman he’d ever seen next in line, witnessing his utter failure to look cool.
“Here, lemme get that for ya,”
A slender finger, clad in large, gothic rings entered Steve’s vision as it gingerly lifted his cap back onto his head, brushing lightly against his forehead.
Standing across from Steve, hand lingering above the counter as it moved away from his forehead, was a man. He couldn't have been much older than Steve - maybe they were even the same age, but he couldn’t quite tell. He was smiling, with a hint of mischief in his grin. It was an unexpectedly kind look, one that was clearly poking a bit of fun at Steve, but in a way that made him feel okay. As if he was in on the joke.
The guy had long, unkempt dark hair, with wild bangs that dangled across his forehead like waves during a storm. His eyes were lovely and warm, so dark that Steve was sure he could get lost in them easily. He had really prominent smile lines, which brought a soft comfort to his otherwise opposing appearance. From underneath his well-loved denim vest, Steve could make out the words “Sam Goody” on his shirt. Oh, okay. Steve thought to himself. So he works at Starcourt too.
“There. Looking good, sailor.”
He winked, his voice deep and full of humor. Steve found himself noticing how long and dark the guy’s eyelashes were, and was momentarily at a loss for words.
“Oh, uh, thanks.” Steve replied, offering a weak smile and holding up his ice cream-coated hands in exasperation as he tried to compose himself. He couldn’t figure out what it was about him, but Steve found himself desperate to impress this guy.
“And it’s Steve, actually. Not ‘sailor’” he motioned to the name tag pinned to his chest, and the other man’s eyes flickered down, following Steve’s finger. He raised his eyebrows, nodding his head as if sarcastically impressed.
“Okay then, sailor Steve.” He grinned, clearly enjoying his joke and stuffing his hands in his pockets.
Steve nodded down towards his shirt, compelled to keep talking to this guy.
“You work there?”
He rolled his eyes with a laugh.
“Nah, man. Just a really big Sam Goody fan.”
Steve felt his face flush, embarrassed to have asked. The other guy’s face changed, his smile falling with concern.
“I’m kidding, sorry. I do work there.” he motioned with his thumb back out to the main drag of the mall.
“I’m just on my ‘15. I’m Eddie,”
With every word he spoke, every move he make, Steve couldn’t help but watch Eddie. He was so expressive, every movement was so purposeful, yet casual.
“Hey, dingus,” Robin’s sing-songy voice cut through Steve’s moment of peace. Despite the chaos of the day, ever since Eddie had walked up to the counter, a strange calm had fallen across Steve. Being around him, even for a second, made everything seem easy. Manageable.
“Would you stop flirting and just take this dude’s order? Line’s out the door, and they're only getting angrier out there. If you keep them waiting any longer, I think they might eat us.” Eddie laughed, mouthing “sorry” to Robin as she made a face. Steve sighed.
“Alright, yeah. Whadaya want?”