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“You’re not allowed to laugh,” Steve’s voice comes through the door.
“The fact that you’re making that a stipulation makes me think I wouldn’t be able to keep that promise,” Eddie calls back from the couch, where he’s been waiting for Steve to emerge from the bedroom for the last fifteen minutes. “But I promise if I do laugh, it’ll be with love.”
There’s a moment of indistinct grumbling from the other room which has an equal chance of being either Steve hyping himself up to come out into the living room, or Steve mocking Eddie to himself, before he calls back, “Fine,” and opens the door.
Eddie’s total knowledge of Scoops! Ahoy as a business is that it sells ice cream and is, inexplicably, nautical-themed. He’d been vaguely aware of the chain’s existence up to now, but as there had never been one in Hawkins (and his dad had never been big on things like taking Eddie out for ice cream when they’d been traveling around), he’s never been to one. He hadn’t known there was a uniform.
Steve had been so excited about landing the job (this was the single callback he’d received) that the idea that there would be a uniform had even slipped his attention – until he’d gone to orientation. He’d come back to the trailer with a cellophane bag full of something navy blue, had gone back to Eddie’s bedroom (really more like their bedroom at this point, considering how often Steve stays over) and, after a great rustling of fabric, had refused to let Eddie see.
Now, Eddie can admit he might understand why.
His first thought is that of course Steve bought matching shoes.
His second thought is drowned in laughter.
He can’t help it, alright? It’s just – the crew socks, the shorts, the dorky little neckerchief, the fucking hat jammed on top of Steve’s head, resting over his increasingly sour expression– how the hell is Eddie supposed to take any of that seriously?
“Fuck you, man,” Steve groans, letting his head fall back in exasperation.
Eddie tries very hard to stifle his laughter and manages to tone it down to some vaguely manic giggling. “It’s– it’s not that bad,” he gets out.
“Are you kidding? It’s fucking tragic,” Steve laments, and Eddie is honestly not sure whether he’s just being dramatic for show. “The hat alone is a crime against humanity.”
“Nooo, the hat is my favorite part!” Eddie insists breathlessly, still trying to get a handle on his mirth. “It completes the look. You’re the most adorable little ice cream sailor I’ve ever seen.”
Steve responds by whipping the hat off and throwing it at Eddie. It beans him the forehead and falls into his lap with a sad little thwap of fabric.
“Well that’s just rude,” Eddie sniffs. “I’m trying to pay you a compliment.”
“Try harder,” Steve drawls.
Eddie launches the hat back at him, but since hand-eye coordination has never been Eddie’s area of special concern, it pulls to Steve’s left, goes sailing right past his shoulder, and lands behind the TV stand.
“Goddamnit, I need that,” Steve huffs as he turns to retrieve the hat. “They only give me one free uniform, after that I have to pay for another. Seriously, they’ll make me pay to wear this monstrosity.”
Possibly he goes on grumbling, but Eddie is no longer listening. The moment Steve had bent over the TV stand to go rooting for his hat, all thoughts had promptly flown out of Eddie’s head. Suddenly, the uniform doesn’t seem so ridiculous. In fact, Eddie has some downright praiseworthy things to say about it.
At least, he has some praiseworthy things to say about the shorts, which it now becomes apparent fit Steve very, very well.
Like, super well.
Like, Eddie is starting to wonder if Steve is even wearing anything under them, because he can’t see lines, and he should be able to, because the fabric is hugging his ass exactly like Eddie wants to be doing right now.
He’s still pondering the underwear—or potential lack thereof—when Steve straightens back up and turns around to face Eddie, which means Eddie is now staring at the front of the shorts, which isn’t helping his train of thought at all, but he can’t stop staring now that he’s had the thought. Now he’s just got to know what the hell Steve is wearing under there, and he thinks maybe some firsthand investigation is the best way to suss it out.
Which is, of course, when Wayne returns from running errands.
He drops his keys on the little table by the door and then stops short, taking in the way Eddie is sitting on the couch, staring raptly at Steve, who is dressed in sailor shorts and attempting to don his hat at what Eddie can only guess is an appropriately jaunty angle.
Wayne is quiet for a moment longer, and then– “Thought we agreed you boys would keep this sort of thing in Eddie’s room?”
Steve squawks out the most offended-sounding “Excuse me?” Eddie’s ever heard, and it starts Eddie’s laughter all over again.
“This is my uniform!” Steve says, hands going to his hips. “For work!”
Wayne cocks an eyebrow, looking him up and down. “What kind of work?”
Eddie hasn’t laughed this hard in ages.
“Selling ice cream,” Steve says, jabbing a finger at the little ice cream cone patch on his sleeve; Eddie doesn’t think he’s ever heard Steve get outright bitchy with Wayne, and he’s living for it.
“Uh huh,” Wayne hums, finally moving towards the kitchen with his bags of groceries. “If you say so, kid.”
“You’re both the worst,” Steve grumbles. “Neither of you are allowed to come visit me. I’m keeping my employee discount to myself.”
“Ouch, that’s cold, sweetheart.” Eddie lays a hand over his heart, falling sideways onto the couch in a false faint of disappointment. He then goes on to prove he has absolutely no shame by wiggling his eyebrows up at Steve and adding, “I was really looking forward to seeing those two free scoops, you know?”
He can tell the moment the inuendo lands, because Wayne heaves a long-suffering sigh from the kitchen and Steve’s hat hits Eddie in the face again, but that’s fine – maybe he’ll catch Steve in a more receptive mood later.
Or at least when he doesn’t have access to any projectiles.