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It's a Saturday night at the end of June, the air conditioning at the Starcourt Mall has been off for a good thirty minutes now, and waiting for Dustin to get back is starting to get really, really boring.
Steve and Robin had talked so much that their conversation had run dry, and now, they’re just lounging around behind the counter waiting for Dustin to waltz back in with a new pencil (since theirs broke because someone got a little too excited about writing in Russian) and maybe some actual food, if they’re lucky.
(At this point, he’d better bring some fucking food.)
Steve sinks down to the floor, opposite Robin, who is already sitting with her head lent back against the side of the counter and her eyes closed.
“At least we’re being paid for this,” Steve muses, causing Robin to open her eyes and look at him, “I mean, we don't even have to serve anyone. It's kinda sweet.”
“Yes, because sitting underneath the buzzing lights, with no air conditioning, no tips, and Steve Harrington is definitely worth sixty extra minutes of minimum wage pay,” Robin says sarcastically, earning an eye roll in return.
“Would you rather spend all night serving Erica Sinclair the same samples over and over?”
“I guess not,” Robin says, “I would counter that with something about Dustin, but I bet you would love to spend the whole night hanging with him. He totally nerd-ified you. You’re like two peas in a pod. Two nerds in a library, or whatever.”
“He didn't nerd-ify me! I ‘nerd-ified,’ or whatever, myself. Don't give all the credit to that little shit,” Steve defends, “And, for the record, I still hate reading. Dustin nor any of his nerd friends could do anything to make me willingly read a book.”
Robin scoffs.
“Whatever. Either way, you’re still a nerd. You should start wearing glasses or something, just so people know.”
“Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up. Steve Harrington is actually a nerd that hangs out with middle schoolers! Who would’ve thought.”
“I certainly wouldn't have, that's for sure.”
Steve and Robin both jump and whip their heads around at the sound of a new voice, definitely not Dustin’s, that sounds dreadfully familiar…
“Munson,” Steve breathes, mouth slightly parted in surprise, “Um. Hello.”
Eddie Munson is leaning over the counter, leering at Steve with an amused smirk.
No one says anything for a good ten seconds, leaving Steve to flicker his eyes back and forth between Robin and Eddie, as they both stare at him with different yet equally annoying smiles on their faces.
“Well this is awkward,” Steve remarks, breaking the silence.
Robin barks out a laugh and brings up a hand to muffle it, like this is the funniest thing she’s ever seen and she can’t contain herself.
Eddie’s smirk widens, like this is just as entertaining for him as it is for her.
“Isn't this just hilarious,” he says, “King Steve has stepped down from his throne to mingle with the lowlifes. I never thought I’d see the day.”
“Oh, come on man. I haven't been King Steve for a while now.”
“Oh my goodness, you’re right!” Eddie exclaims, “I can’t believe we haven’t had a ruler for almost a month… Hawkins High is doomed! We must place the crown upon another before it’s too late.”
“Dude, cut it out, Jesus. I can promise you I’m not whatever ‘King Steve’ version of me you still have pictured in your head.”
Eddie puts on a face of mock admiration.
“You’ll always be a king in my heart, though, Stevie,” he jests in one of his proud, comical voices, holding a hand to his chest.
Steve ignores the way his face bursts into flames at Eddie’s words and looks down at his hands, which are resting on his knees.
“Jesus,” he huffs, half because of the absurdity of the situation, and half because he hates remembering that there are people out there who still view him as the pretentious asshole he was for most of high school. Many people. It’s kinda hard to get the word out that you're actually a pretty good guy now when more than half the town thinks you're a dick, and you can’t legally tell them the real reason you’ve changed. And Steve is horrible at lying.
What would he say anyway? “Yeah, I almost died like ten times and realized that who you are in high school doesn't actually matter, and I had about twenty crises about it, but don't worry, I’m a good person now, I just have lifelong trauma that will affect me way worse and way longer than any reputation I had when I was seventeen.”
He would just stick to the reputation if he had the choice, honestly. That’s too much explaining to do to literally anyone.
“What's wrong Harrington? Not happy to see me?”
“It’s… it’s not that,” Steve says a bit weakly. He really doesn't want to deal with this right now. He’s got five minutes left of his shift, he's tired, and Dustin still isn’t back. It’s been, like, forty-five minutes. He just wants Eddie to get the ice cream he probably came here for and go.
“Hellooo,” Eddie leans forward more and waves his hand in front of Steve’s face, “Earth to Harrington! You gonna finish that sentence, or stare into space for a little while longer?”
“He’s a bit slow this time of night,” Robin supplies, “Might take him a minute.”
Steve shoots Robin a dirty look.
“Oh, shut up,” he says, “I’m tired, especially with what Dustin’s putting us through. Gimme a break.”
“You –” Robin starts.
“– How are you, Buckley?” Eddie swoops in, successfully evading the argument Steve and Robin were probably about to have, “Excited for band this year?”
Robin shrugs, her annoyance toward Steve quickly turning into attentiveness (albeit toward Eddie).
“Same as usual I suppose. There’ll be some perks of being a senior, but nothing special. Oh, hey,” she turns to Steve, “Dustin and your other child friends are gonna be freshmen, right? Do any of them play an instrument? We could really use a tenor saxophone or two, but anything will do, really.”
“No, I don’t think any of them are talented enough for that,” Steve says with a light laugh, “Most of them just play that game with the monsters and shit. Dudes and Dragons, or something like that?”
As soon as he says it, Eddie throws his head back and laughs, loud and obnoxious.
“Dudes and Dragons? Are you fucking kidding me, Harrington?” He says in between cackles, before bursting into laughter again. Steve looks to Robin for help.
“Don’t look at me, Steve,” she says, shrugging, “Even I know it’s called Dungeons and Dragons.”
“That’s because you have years of experience being a nerd. I’m still new to this!”
“I’m a geek. Big difference.”
“It’s the same thing!” Steve exclaims, throwing his hands in the air. “My friends were only interested in drinking beer and beating people up. Yours are like, eating pie and playing the oboe. Obviously, you’re gonna be the one to know about the dragon game.”
“Well, you’ve been friends with those kids since, what, last year? Babysitting them and shit? You still don't know what their biggest hobby is called?”
“I never said I was a good babysitter,” Steve mumbles, crossing his arms.
Eddie’s laughter dies down, boiling down to a wide grin.
“This is probably the best entertainment I’ve had in a while,” he says, “And last week, my friend Gareth drank so much vodka that he puked into his cat’s litter box, and then into the bush outside, and then onto the sidewalk.”
Steve wrinkles his nose.
“Did you want ice cream, or did you come here to bother me for eternity?”
“You decide,” Eddie says his sly smirk returning, “Although, I will admit I had no idea you worked here. I was just gonna go home because everything’s closing, and when I saw that you were still open I thought I could use some Rocky Road to boost my spirits,” he leans forward once more, grinning down at Steve, “This is much better, though.”
“I decide for you to get some ice cream and leave, we’re kinda busy,” Steve says, standing to make Eddie’s order. Robin follows behind but doesn't make any move to help.
“Sitting on the floor and arguing counts as busy?” Eddie retorts.
“That's not what I meant, but it doesn't matter what we were –” Steve says, but he’s quickly interrupted by the sound of echoing footsteps approaching.
“Okay! I’m back! We can –” Dustin comes bounding into the store, a single pencil in one hand and a small, greasy white bag in the other, which Steve assumes holds some sort of fast food. He stops abruptly when he sees Eddie and raises his eyebrows. “Uh, who’s this?”
Eddie twirls around, his hair flowing around him with the movement, which Steve notices is considerably longer than the last time they saw each other.
Since when do I pay attention to Munson’s hair?
“You must be Dustin!” Eddie exclaims, and Dustin nods reluctantly, “I’m Eddie. Head of Hawkins High’s first and only DnD club, Hellfire. I heard you play.”
Dustin lights up, practically throwing the bag in his hand onto the counter so he can shake Eddie’s.
“Hey!” Steve exclaims, catching it before it falls.
“Oh, cool! I do! What role do you play? Are you any good?” still shaking Eddie’s hand, “I’m the bard of our party, but I can do anything, really. How long have you been playing? Me, Mike, Lucas, and Will have been playing since, like, third grade.”
When he’s finally done, he realizes he’s still shaking Eddie’s hand, and quickly retracts it. Eddie chuckles, looks at Steve like, “I see what you mean,” and shoves his hands into his pockets.
“I’m a bard, too. And I DM. I’d like to think I’m good, and I’ve been playing ever since I found someone who would actually play with me, but I’ve been interested for way longer,” Dustin nods along enthusiastically with all of his answers. “I know summer’s still well underway, but if you and your friends want to join Hellfire in the fall, you’re all welcome.”
“Yes, please!” Dustin exclaims, and turns to Steve, “Where’d you find this guy? He’s awesome!”
Eddie laughs again.
“He kinda just walked in. And he was also about to leave. You said Rocky Road? How many scoops?”
“Woah, woah, woah, Harrington,” Eddie says, taking his hands out of his pockets to wave them around, “You can't just plop a tiny DnD nerd in my face and then kick me out!”
“Yeah, Steve, you can’t just kick him out!”
Steve runs a hand through his hair.
“Did you forget what you went to get that pencil for? Or what we were doing in the first place that you’re here past curfew?”
“I’m with Steve on this one, for once,” Robin says, finally weighing in on the situation. “We literally have one more word left, and all we have to do after that is write the whole thing down in the notepad, and then we can go home,” She puts heavy emphasis on the last word, placing her hands on the counter and slumping into her shoulders.
“What were you guys doing?” Eddie asks, seeming genuinely interested.
“Nothing, it’s not important –” Steve starts,
“– Decoding a secret Russian message I intercepted last night,” Dustin says at the same time.
“Dustin!” Steve and Robin shout at the same time.
“What?! He seems cool, and I had to tell someone else. You two are lame,”
“I am not lame, do not group me in with him,” Robin argues, jabbing a finger toward Steve. “We literally just helped you decode this thing for the past four hours, it is so unfair to call us lame. Without me and my amazing language arts skills, you’d both be doomed and we’d all be killed by Russians. So, you’re welcome. And you can’t just go telling people that! Just because he seems cool does not mean he’s going to bring your secrets to the grave.”
“Worked with Steve, didn’t it?” Dustin counters.
“You think I’m cool?” Steve asks.
“What other secrets could you possibly have?”
Dustin’s laugh is more of a shout.
“That, my friend, I cannot tell you.”
“Am I not cool enough for you?”
“It’s more legal reasons than anything, Robin, I don’t want you to die.”
“DIE?!”
“To be fair, it was Nancy and Jonathan that brought me into it. You didn’t really help with that part,” Steve notes.
“Wheeler and Byers?” Eddie asks, who looks very intrigued by the argument the other three are having, absorbing everything they say like some sort of loud, screamy game show. Honestly, it makes sense, considering the guy is a metalhead.
Steve nods.
“But I told you about Dart! You were the first one to know!” Dustin argues.
“Shut up, Dustin, oh my God! There are other people here!”
“They don’t know who he is, Steve, Jesus Christ, calm down.”
“Who the hell names their kid Dart?” Eddie asks.
“He wasn’t a person, he was a –” Dustin starts, cut off by Steve practically throwing his torso over the counter to smother his words with his hand. Steve turns to Eddie.
“A dog. Dart was a dog.”
Dustin relaxes in his hold, his eyes telling Steve he’s not going to continue his sentence because what he said was technically not a lie. Dustin loves technically-not-lies. Steve lets go.
“Riiight,” Eddie says, nodding slowly, clearly not buying it. “Three scoops of Rocky Road,” he smirks, “On the house, or I'm screaming your secret through the loudspeakers at my next performance.”
Steve rolls his eyes.
“I don’t think you telling our secret to a bunch of drunk, sweaty sixty-year-olds at a run-down bar is much of a threat, but I’ll give you four scoops for free and anything of your choice next time you come in if you promise to actually not tell anyone.”
“Deal,” Eddie sticks out his hand like they’re making a serious agreement, “But only if you also let me in on this little adventure of yours. I’m smarter than you think, and I could be a good asset to your team. Whaddya say?”
Steve grabs his hand and shakes it once.
“Fucking fine.”
And that’s how Eddie Munson got dragged along on a trip to a secret Russian base below the mall with three teens and a ten-year-old, and it's how he learned that Steve Harrington isn't such a bad guy. It’s a good thing he knows how to flush drugs out of his system and untie knots. It's also a good thing he knows how to charm people, and Steve knows how right back.