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Steve dropped onto the communal area's leftmost couch with a tired groan.
His 5:00 PM meal break had finally arrived, but that still left him with about seven hours to get through behind the bar.
"Wow, and I'd like to think the bar wasn't as crowded as it could be today." Robin's tone was dry, but her expression was sympathetic as she grabbed the small red bag she used as a 'lunch box' (it sounded better than 'dinner box') from her designated locker.
Just as she took a step to join Steve on the couch, she seemed to think more on it and backtracked momentarily to open his locker. She reached inside without looking, arm moving around haltingly as she searched for…something. Presumably the handles of his bag, seeing as it would be the only thing in there.
Right; he didn't grab his food on the way in. The couch had been too attractive to his exhausted mind and stiff muscles.
"Thanks." Steve sighed, one hand coming to rub lightly at his eyes.
Robin didn't respond verbally, only continued her search until she found what she was looking for. She pulled it out quickly, then speed-walked towards him.
"We didn't even have a lunch rush." She gently set the black bag at Steve's feet before returning to her own meal.
"What's on the menu today?" While genuinely curious, Steve half-dreaded the answer.
He was usually consistent with what he was willing to bring to work, as neither sandwiches nor leftover pasta needed to be refrigerated. Plus, they were easy to pack and didn't make a huge mess when it was 'lunch time'. Unfortunately, Robin's aversion to the kitchen made her menu less predictable.
And not always in a good way.
"Just a few sandwiches." Robin shrugged one of her shoulders.
For a second, Steve had hope that his friend had found the time and energy to make herself something decent. It helped that Robin didn't get back up to jog to the kitchen for the microwave, as she's done almost every other previous day after pulling out one of those lasagna boxes or an 'all-in-one' course that included meatloaf and mashed potatoes. To his dismay, his optimism was dashed after a few mere seconds once she caught sight of his expression and snorted.
"Don't get too excited, Dingus." She pulled out a medium-sized purple box, turning it so that the item's name and the accompanying product picture was facing him. The 'Uncrustables' brand had him flinching internally, and the circular sandwiches printed beneath it—while cute in design—didn't help.
It wasn't the worst thing Steve has seen Robin bring in for lunch. That victory went to that weird 'limited special' fish taco-thing she found at her store's hot bar; let him tell ya, those two little things were bad enough to take her out for a week—food poisoning style. Not to mention that he was talking about someone who consistently had pre-prepared meals positively crowding their freezer and fridge on a weekly basis.
There were worse things to pull out of the bag.
But…still…
"I'm pretty sure you had bread the last time I was over." Steve spoke slowly, trying not to sound condescending amidst his disbelief. "And peanut butter isn't that hard to come by-"
"Honey," Robin shushed him with a pointed look, "if I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times: I'm happy that you've found your passion in the kitchen, but I can't afford to take those chances. I've got places to be, things to do. I can't waste the day away steaming veggies or cleaning up sauce when my concoction inevitably explodes."
…alright, at that reminder, Steve's internal flinch worked its way outwards. He even leaned back slightly, as if he actually had to worry about sauce coming out of nowhere and smacking him in the face.
(Prior to trying to teach Robin how to make his grandmother's infamous ravioli red sauce, he hadn't known that tomato sauce could be so volatile.)
"Alright, alright, I get ya." He kept his distance for a few minutes, just to be on the safe side, then slowly leaned back to his original position. "But…still…it's a pretty important life skill. Especially once you get back into school. I heard cafeteria food has only gotten crappier in a lot of places."
"Pffff, tell me about it." Robin rolled her eyes so harshly that Steve felt his own ache in their sockets. "All that tuition money, and what do we get?"
"Afternoons spent hunched over the toilets, and nights spent stuck on it?" Steve offered, not at all helpful.
To Robin's point, he didn't know how universities could ask for so much money from their students. Like, if the funds were going towards things like lecturers and dorms and classrooms and utilities and food—essentially, if they were going towards keeping their students healthy and educated—then that would make more sense.
That didn't seem to be the case.
These days, it just seemed like education was getting more expensive as a general principle.
Seriously, where is the money going?!
"Mhm!" Robin snapped her fingers, aiming a finger-gun at Steve in agreement. "Got it on the first try. Now that we've established that, be a dear and let me enjoy my packaged goods in peace. It'll be great practice for the years they'll be responsible for keeping me alive."
…riiiiiiiiggghhhttt…
Because that wasn't concerning at all.
Well, as much as Steve wanted to continue arguing his point, he could take a hint.
He did still have a response to Robin's earlier comment, after all.
"Speeeeeaaaaaking of lunch…let's hope tomorrow goes as smoothly as today." Steve opened his bag and pulled out the container protecting his own sandwich. Or, more like, protecting the rest of his bag contents from it. He'd gone for an egg salad one today, wanting to use up the rest of the eggs before his weekly grocery run was upon here. "Lunch rushes…give me a break. Why does Oliver even bother advertising food? We have store-bought french fries and mediocre club sandwiches, that's it! And that sure as shit isn't lunch material."
Not that many of their customers agreed; hence, the aforementioned meal RUSHES.
Robin shrugged, ripping the purple box open and practically yanking one of the circular Uncrustables out. As she took a bite, she sent him a pointed look.
You know why.
And Steve did know why, they both did. The complicated details of what Dreamscape's liquor license included aside, Oliver Brown couldn't get away with advertising this place as a business that only served alcohol when he knew he'd be open to hiring 18-year-olds to work the tables or inviting bands (most of which included musicians who could also be as young as 18; still under the legal age for alcohol consumption) to play live on stage. To skirt around the issue, he had to dig into some loopholes and expand the menu to include mocktails and some form of food.
Apparently, when not everything had alcohol in it, that made a difference.
"Cheer up, hon." Robin attempted to console him after swallowing her first bite. Her words were accompanied by a gentle nudge. "We may still have time on the clock, but hey! That's still a seven-hour chance that Eddie could walk in."
Robin paused at that, her expression pinching slightly.
"Actually, wait…hang on, that didn't sound right. I mean, like, he…okay, a seven-hour chance doesn't make any sense. Hours don't fit into pies like percentages do. What I mean is he still has seven hours to get here before-"
"Don't worry, I got it." Steve snorted out some quiet laughter, and took his own first bite. If his sandwich helped hide some of the blush that had heated his cheeks, then Robin didn't need to know that.
Then again, with how well she knew him, she probably already assumed it was there by default. The fact that she even used Eddie as a diversion from his frustration said a lot on its own.
Like how she knew he would immediately steal all of Steve's attention, and that he wasn't the only one who has noticed how…inquisitive (?)…Eddie has been for the past few months. Don't get Steve wrong, the alpha had always been conversational and curious. He led the discussion as frequently as he allowed Steve to decide their starting point, or when they switched topics. But these past few months, there was something….something else.
Something that just-oh, Steve didn't know…
Something…different. There was a different vibe.
He was getting a different vibe from Eddie. The alpha seemed more-he seemed…oh…what to call it…?
Extra interested?
Snoopy?
Searching?
Some of the conversations Steve remembered having with Eddie had gotten quite…personal. Definitely more personal than he was used to being with anyone who wasn't Robin (and even she was kept at a safe distance, for his sake and her own). But he didn't want to think that it was because he was loose-lipped, or anything! It couldn't be. Not when he'd been SAFE from everyone related to his past for so long and when he'd managed to pull off the 'average joe' shtick so well that pretty much all of his co-workers were fine with leaving him to his own devices.
For crying out loud, Steve even got away with bringing Davis to work to introduce him to Eddie, and to allow his brother to get to know the other alpha better. So far, no one had noticed! That had to mean that it wasn't necessarily Steve that was the issue here.
It had to be Eddie. Eddie just found ways to coax things out of Steve. Things that the omega wouldn't normally offer so freely.
It should have set off alarm bells in Steve's head. It really should have.
His growing feelings for Eddie aside, talking about family—letting someone IN on his family situation—didn't promise a nice ending.
Even if the comments Steve let slip seemed relatively innocent; even if there was no way Eddie could find anything about Steve suspicious since he didn't have any context to the omega's life; even if it was unlikely Eddie would do anything with what he knew; even if he couldn't easily do anything against Steve (what, with how he was in Chicago while the Harringtons were in California); even if everything was still fine, Steve had come too far to start drawing eyes now.
He knew he SHOULD be taking a step back, physically and metaphorically, all things considered.
But…well…
Did he really WANT to?
Over something like this?
Hmmmm…
"Do you think it's a positive thing?" Steve pitched the question after swallowing the last bite to the first half of his egg salad sandwich.
To this day, Robin has never steered him wrong. Be it through sheer luck or being blessed by a holy entity while she was still in the womb, whenever Steve came to her with questions or she so much as sensed that something was making him anxious, she had comforting words at the ready. Then, once he had settled back down, she had an idea for how to confront whatever problem he had come to her with.
Sometimes that involved a solution that put an end to the whole thing. Sometimes she was just ready to help him ride through leftover feelings he had to make peace with in order to move forward.
But at least she always had a plan for what to do. And, more often than not, the end result of that plan left Steve feeling lighter. Much lighter.
May her gift never run out.
He didn't turn to glance at Robin even as he felt her lightly bump her knee against his, he merely pulled the second half of his sandwich out and sealed the lid to its now-empty container.
As he slid the glass rectangle back into his bag, he elaborated: "That he's…you know…making an effort to know more about me? Outside of shit in the club?"
Steve took a bite to restrain himself from explaining further, and to give Robin ample time to come up with a response.
To her credit, she really thought about it. She thought about it long, and she thought about it hard. Out of his peripheral vision, Steve could see how deeply furrowed her brows were, and how each bite of her sandwich felt like it took more time than an average bite usually did.
Case in point: he got through the entire second half of his sandwich—eating almost as slowly as she was chewing, mind you—and had just finished his banana as well when she set the Uncrustables' box on the coffee table.
When she spoke, someone could have told Steve an hour had passed and he'd believe it.
"I think it goes both ways." Robin nodded her head firmly. Steve couldn't tell if it was meant to reassure him, or if it was answering some unspoken question she was swirling around in her own head. "Personally, I think he can afford to be more upfront about what he wants. Not that I'm saying he doesn't want you, or anything!"
She turned fully towards him and waved her hands around in a denying motion.
"It's pretty obvious that he's interested." Her hands dropped back down, and walked themselves over to her lap. "But, like, he should probably start with that instead of being all…proddy…and-and, you know…all that. It feels a little creepy otherwise. It also leaves a lot of room for misunderstandings."
Steve offered Robin a half-hearted shrug. He supposed he could get behind that logic.
"On the other hand, I get what you're saying. People who want more should put in the effort to learn more. And…props to him for doing that, I guess." Robin weakly shrugged. It contrasted against the comforting smile she offered him; soft edges still confident and relaxed openness full of sincerity. "Maybe…maybe now that he's made that…that first move, let's call it…you could try your hand at making a move of your own?"
At Steve's raised eyebrow, Robin hurried to explain.
"Invite him out! Take him somewhere else, leave Dreamscape behind for a day and see how well you guys get on in a different setting." Robin made subtle shooing motions to accompany her words. "If you guys still get on, then…awesome! You two did it. Before you know it, those outings might become dates and you'll be upgrading from public meet-ups tooooo…sleepovers…at each other's houses."
For his own sake, Steve bit his lip to keep from commenting on how sly Robin's tone turned when she said the word 'sleepovers'. It would turn into a whole argument (fake as it would be) about how he had more class than to just jump into bed after the first date, and that would derail the rest of this important discussion.
He'd let her have this one.
It helped that she sobered up really quickly after she got that one joke out of her system.
"If it becomes obvious that Dreamscape and its world is where you guys are most comfortable, cool. Reassert your boundaries; keep your distance; put him in his place. At least you figured that out outside; where he's forced to show more of himself and you run less of a risk of getting in trouble should an argument take place at the bar."
Oof, yeah, okay…
Robin brought up an entirely different point that Steve had failed to consider until now.
See, THIS is why he ran things through her first.
"Good plan." Steve nodded. Credit was due where credit was due. "Think a quick note will get the job done without much of a fuss? Or would that just look worse?"
Because as innocent as his intentions were, he would understand if some people had some things to say about employees asking customers—customers that weren't already their friends and family—to meet them in secluded spots in and around the club. Generally, that could be taken the wrong way. Professionally, even for a bartender who's heard his fair share of sob stories and had to deal with more than his fair share of 'flirting', that didn't appear ethical or wholly safe.
"Don't worry, I'll watch your back. Make sure people have other things to look at when you're ready." Robin reached out and patted Steve's knee. "Just prepare it ahead of time and make sure it's folded really well. You can slip it under his glass during a hand-off, or against his napkin if you're worried about the condensation ruining the ink."
"Thanks." Steve brought his own hand forward and covered hers before she could pull back. He traced his thumb against the sharp edges of her knuckles, wishing that they didn't have their scent patches on so he could platonically scent her to reaffirm his gratitude.
Alas, it was safer for both them and the customers if they kept the patches on. Doubly-so when only a couple of other employees followed their example.
"Anytime." Robin let Steve massage the back of her hand for several moments before gently beginning to pull her hand out from under his hold.
He let her go without any resistance, and didn't do or say anything when she readjusted herself to lean into his side. She didn't re-take the Uncrustables box as she switched positions, prompting Steve to believe that it was actually empty and not simply discarded. She only let her weight sink into him as she relaxed against him.
No more words were passed between them. No new conversations came to mind. No gossip or laughter or playful banter filled the air.
They simply sat with one another as the rest of their break passed over them, at peace with the bond they shared and the wisdom they exchanged.
It was a welcome feeling. It lifted a lot of weight off of Steve's shoulders, and kept that weight off of him until he and Robin were hauling themselves off of the couch and bracing themselves for the rest of their shift.
Just as he reached his locker to return his bag, an important question sprung to mind.
"…do you think Cozy Corner would have any seating?"
"When your only window of time to go would be anywhere close to 8:00 AM? Prooooooobably not. It'd be better if you finally took Oliver up on that offer of taking allotted time off. At least then you could push it to more of a brunch thing."
"Good call. What days have you reserved again?"