Chapter Text
Claire Wodylack is the fifth girl Steve has gone out with since they polished off the Upside Down and life went back to semi-normal. Well, really she was the ninth, if you counted the girls he’d been stood up by as well. He has no idea when he lost his mojo, but all of a sudden dating feels like a goddamn chore, and if it weren’t for the existential dread that follows him around chanting, “You’re alone! Alone! Alone!” he would probably just give up and remain single and celibate for the remainder of his miserable life.
It’s just, he really doesn’t want to be alone. And maybe he’s not, at least not totally, but he can’t help but feel like… like something’s missing.
And, unfortunately, he’s pretty sure Claire isn’t it.
Mini golf used to be one of his go-to date activities, for various reasons. Number one being proximity. If your girl is struggling to sink a putt, there’s the opportunity to cozy up and give her a little guidance. Number two was ice cream. See, Steve had mastered this course when he was eight, so he could sink the last hole no problem. It was impressive, watching the ball easily slide past the tricky windmill obstacle and setting off the buzzer. That shrill sound meant he was guaranteed a voucher for two free ice cream cones. So all in all, a mini golf date only cost him a few bucks in gas money and admission.
The problem tonight is that Claire is apparently allergic to the holes. She’s yet to get her ball even remotely close to one of them, and they’ve been here nearly forty-five minutes. He’s tried all his usual moves and tactics, and he’s gone so far as to try and putt for her, but it’s like she’s got some sort of ball-repellent force field around her. (Force field? Really? God he needs to stop hanging out with nerds.) Twice now he’s had to fish her ball out of a water feature, and they haven’t even gotten to that hole yet!
He could probably make the best of it if it weren’t for the fact that she’s whining about how bad at this she is. He’s beginning to wonder why he took her on a second date to begin with.
It’s because she’s hot, he decides. Because it has to be, what else would it be?
She does look cute, in her short pleated pink skirt and white blouse. Her long blond hair is tied back with a matching pink ribbon. He likes the way her nose crinkles and knocks her glasses askew when she’s concentrating.
“Steeeve,” she whines, shaking him from his admiring, “I just got bit by another mosquito.”
“Well damnit Claire I can’t control the bugs!”
… And shit, now he did it. Good ‘ol piece of crap King Steve strikes again. He shakes his head and shucks off his coat. “I’m sorry I shouldn’t have snapped, I’m just tired. Here, put this on and maybe it’ll keep some of them from getting at you.”
She sniffles and nods. He holds out his coat and helps her into it.
The rest of their night goes just as miserably, and Steve takes mini golf off of his tried and true date idea list.
He’s mid-sulking about it when the phone rings. He glances at the clock, 10 PM, so it’s probably not the kids.
“Harrington residence.”
“Stevie baby! Good, you're up! Interested in a little late-night toke?”
“Can’t sleep?”
“Wasn’t trying.”
None of them really sleep much, not with the constant nightmares. It’s better if you’re not alone, but, Steve’s always alone. “My place or yours?”
“I’m out of sodas.”
“Well all I have is black cherry-”
“Which is my favorite,” Eddie says, “Be there in fifteen, big boy.”