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“Hey, could I have an americano, please? Oh, and no sweetener or creamer, please.”
It was only nine in the morning, and Steve was already sick of this shit. It wasn’t even that the customers had been particularly annoying. They hadn’t. They’d been entirely mundane. Thus far, at least, and he wasn’t about to push his luck. No, it was because it was a boring morning, and his favourite customer hadn’t shown yet.
Robin had noticed his sour mood, of course. They were both just lucky that Keith, their manager, wasn’t showing up today. Something about staying home to play the new Zelda. They were lucky because it meant they could sort of make their own rules for the day, and be more relaxed as a whole. However, it also meant that Robin was being practically tempted to be her true, unbridled self, which meant only bad things for Steve.
The days were long in the Hawbeans (a play on the name of their town) Coffee Shop, and they often played stupid games to pass the time. For example, they placed guesses on how many customers they would serve on a given day would wear a blue hat. Some games were less fun, though. Like their current one. Robin, who clearly had more game than Steve because she already had a girlfriend, had grown sick of hearing him complaining about being single, and so she’d challenged him to throw in a flirtatious comment or cute note on the ‘to-go’ cups of cute customers. In exchange, Steve could get a date out of it (doubtful, according to Robin (and Dustin)), and Robin would (secretly and undetectably) give him an extra five bucks out of the cash register every end of week when they closed. What was the harm in a (little) crime to keep things interesting, right?
As Steve busied himself with the order that the newest customer had placed, he heard Robin come out from the back, clearly putting on her brave face so she could man the register. It wouldn’t be long before the place got busy, construction workers coming in with their mid-morning orders of more coffee and cookies, and stay-at-home parents coming in to order a drink after dropping their kids off at school. It didn’t help that it was a Friday a mere few weeks before the Holidays, many people taking the day as an excuse to get a nice coffee and stroll around the shops of Hawkins for presents.
With Robin dealing with taking down orders, Steve became unofficially in charge of making the drinks. He was too quick to notice that Robin had drawn a shitty doodle of someone winking on certain orders. Upon looking to her for an explanation after the fifth such doodle, Robin simply replied with a wink of her own before nudging her head subtly towards the latest customer. With a stubborn shake of his head, Steve denied her the pleasure of embarrassing himself by attempting to flirt with a customer, no matter how cute they might be (and they were cute).
When they hit their usual brief lull of about 10 minutes around 10:40 AM, Steve and Robin made their way to the back in order to restock some milk (and so Robin could check on the fresh batch of lemon bars she’d put in the oven). In all honesty, though, they retreated to the back for a breather, though Steve had an inkling Robin wouldn’t exactly let him breathe.
“You’re such a doofus. I don’t get why you just won’t flirt with a few people. It’s innocent! Plus, you suck at it. It’s free practice!” She scoffed, peering in at the lemon bars through the oven window. It smelled like lemons in there now, they’d only be a minute or so more.
Steve flushed slightly, running a hand through his hair.
“I didn’t ask for help on this, Robin! Also, for the record, I literally gave you that line that got you some last weekend. So I don’t know if it’s right to call me ‘helpless’.” He smirked, though it faltered when he saw how unimpressed she seemed.
“I already felt those things about Vickie… I just… needed help verbalizing them. I’m not Shakespeare reborn, or something. Maybe you are, doofus, but then that means what you’re lacking is an audience. Thus,” She gestured towards the way to the register with a grin. “our customers.”
“I don’t want to mindlessly flirt anymore!” Steve sighed, the words flying out before he could think them through. Shakespeare reborn, his ass. He was sure now that Robin would not let him go without questioning him for more incriminating evidence.
“Wha- why not?” She gasped, grinning deviously. And Steve knew he was screwed. “Oh, my god, Steve Harrington likes someone!”
“No. I don’t. So please, drop this. We need to go back out anyways. Look.” He ran a hand through his hair again. It was a nervous tell he was sure Robin noticed with the way her smile remained even as he denied her more information. “You stay here, stay put, and get the lemon bars out. I, will go and stock up the sandwiches for the lunch menu.”
Robin groaned, looking at the clock on the wall in alarm.
“What the hell, it’s already 11 am? Hell time is upon us again. So soon, too. Hey, do you think you could call Dustin for some more illicit help? The kid’s actually pretty quick on his feet in here-” She whispered, as if hiding her plan from any possible onlookers (who weren’t there).
“Absolutely not. One, he joins you in your bullshit ploys to ‘cure me of my singleness’, and two, Henderson eats all the best pieces of the lemon bars. We’re on our own for this one, Rob.” Steve huffed, lifting a tray of sandwiches they’d assembled before opening that morning and left in the massive fridge.
“For someone who claims they don’t need help, you’ve sure brought up the subject a lot in the past 5 minutes.” Robin rebuked innocently, suddenly busy with taking the fresh lemon bars out the oven (likely so Steve couldn’t see the face she was pulling). “Are they cute?” She called out casually while Steve carried the sandwiches out to place them in the display case.
When he came back in for the rest, he (mistakenly) replied to her bait.
“Is who cute? There’s no one out there right now except for Mrs. Driscoll and her grandkids.”
Robin cackled, looking at his clueless expression.
“Is there something you want to tell me about you and Mrs. Driscoll, Stevie?” She cooed, pinching his cheek in passing while she walked over with the tray of lemon bars to place them on a counter to cool.
Steve made a face.
“She’s a nice lady? If you’re asking if I’ve given her another one of those secret discount codes, I haven’t. Scout’s honour, but for the last time, I didn’t know they were secret!”
“Dude, it literally said ‘SECRET’ on the envelope Kevin gave us.”
“Well it was his mistake for giving them to us. We’re famously the Hawkins version of Donkey and Shrek.”
“Famously?” Robin squeaked, voice pitching higher in slight alarm. “I wasn’t told.”
“By the kids.” Steve threw out offhandedly, crouching down to the lower rows of the fridge to get some of the focaccia sandwiches now.
“Oh.” She relaxed, waving her hand to show she totally hadn’t been briefly terrified. “I’m definitely Shrek, then.”
“In your dreams, Buckley. I’m the one with layers.”
“Hair layers, maybe.” She snorted, sticking her tongue out at his back. “I’ll call Vickie on her break and ask her how wrong you are.”
“Uh huh. Shit, we didn’t end up finishing the BLT focaccia sandwiches after all. Okay… can you go out there; I think I heard the bell. I’ll finish adding the tomato to them, and I’ll join you out there in two.”
“Why me? What if it’s some guy?”
“You always tell me I’m shit at working the register. ‘Your charm comes out when you’re handing people their orders, Stevie’.” He replied back, raising his voice to a near-falsetto to imitate Robin.
“It’s because you’re bad at math. C+ in high school algebra, remember?” She’d busied herself with tightening her hair tie while reminding him of his past blunders.
“That was one quiz!” He retorted back at her as she went back out to the register.
As he quickly chopped some tomatoes and added them to the focaccia sandwiches, he heard Robin making small talk with the fresh customer. Not ‘some guy’, then.
Steve was done within 5 minutes, and he managed to take the sandwiches out to the display case right as Robin was working on the customer’s drink. Steve joined his friend, watching her as she added extra of the extras the customer had asked for to their drink.
“Dude, what the hell, does this person have blackmail on you-” Steve whisper-hissed to Robin, lifting his head over the coffee machines in order to see whose order Robin had taken.
His heart absolutely stopped when he saw who had sat down at one of the tables by the windows, patiently waiting for their order and scrolling on their phone. His favourite customer, and his definite (but not known to others) crush.
“No, doofus, but they’re cute! They seem like your type. So I’m being your wing-woman and depleting our shop’s supplies to get you someone for the Holiday season!” She whisper-hissed back, Mrs. Driscoll’s granddaughter peering at them from over her hot chocolate in childish suspicion.
When Robin finished the drink, she handed it to Steve with a broad smile and a wink, a quick “go get ‘em, Hawkins Tiger!” whispered under her breath as she pushed him towards the area customers picked up their orders.
Steve stood there dumbly, forgetting to even call out their name, too struck by the sight of them looking so nice on a random Friday. Thankfully, or not, they looked up from their phone and saw him standing there like an idiot, their drink in hand. They smiled at him in recognition and got up, walking over to Steve (it felt like hours to him, watching them walk over) to grab their drink.
“Hey, Steve. I didn’t know you made my drink. Thought you were in the back.”
“Oh, yeah, I’m just quick like that, y’know. I’m usually basically in two places at once.” He laughed, hoping desperately that he appeared cooler than he felt.
“Yeah, I noticed you restocked the BLT focaccia sandwiches. They’re from the lunch menu, right?”
“Uh huh, the BLT; Brothers Love Turtles.” He replied, practically choking on his smile (he’d somehow made that possible) as he realized just what kind of absolute bullshit joke his brain had come up with that time, feeling like he’d just fallen on his ass in front of the entire world.
Still, they laughed, nearly cackled, at the stupid thing he’d said, probably at him, as they took their drink from him.
“That’s good. I’ll come by tomorrow for a Brothers Love Turtles, then. I hear you guys make good ones. Especially you, since you’re so quick with them. Must be a pro, right?” They smiled, eyes twinkling as they looked right into Steve’s eyes, their gaze temporarily drifting down to his lips, and then up to his hair, before meeting his again.
“Huh- What? Oh! Oh, yeah. I’m like the Gordon Ramsay of BLTs.” Steve grinned, cockily now, as he straightened, giving them his most charming grin.
“I’ll be the judge of that, then.” They replied, switching their cup from one hand to another and looking down at it in brief surprise, their cheeks heating up slightly, before looking back at him with renewed friendliness.
“I’ll see you around, Harrington.” They said, starting to walk backwards towards the exit. “I’m on a schedule, so I can’t really stay and discuss the lavish details of the classic BLT. Another time, though?” They offered with a hopeful grin. “Bye, Robin!” They called out, waiting to see Steve nod dumbly before turning around to leave.
Steve stayed rooted in his spot, only blinking out of it slightly when Robin placed a hand on his shoulder.
“Dude, hell yeah! They seem to want to see you again. Ugh, I’m such a good wing-woman. Do you think there’s a business for it in Hawkins? You know, this reminds me of that one time my cousin Debra told me about how her best friend Sandra had helped a couple in their friend circle get back together-” Robin rambled on, the familiar sound helping Steve’s brain to start to run again.
“But… I’m not working tomorrow.” He said sadly, looking much like a kicked puppy.
Robin looked at him like he was an absolute idiot, and then simply patted his shoulder.
“I wrote your number on the cup.” She told him, words slow as if he was a toddler.
“You what?! You whored me out, Robin! Without my permission!” Steve yelped, catching himself once he’d done it and trying to go back to looking cool and unaffected.
Robin shrugged.
“Yeah, yeah. You’re welcome.” She pinched his cheek again. “You clearly like them, so just remember to invite me to the wedding, ‘kay?”
That night, after worrying over what Robin had done for the whole afternoon, Steve felt he suddenly had no reason to be angry with his best friend when a new number texted him about PB&J sandwiches, insisting that the name stands for “Panthers Barter & Juggle”.