#reblog with your fav milkshake and/or ice cream flavor if you want! mine are strawberry and chocolate respectively

[vecnuthy]

Slingin' 🍦⚓️

second entry for @steddiemicrofic pool | wc: 442 | rated: G | cw: a little suggestive at the end

It was the hottest day of the year yet. Mall culture drew the masses, and the masses had flooded Scoops, which was currently manned by only Robin Buckley and Steve Harrington.

The space? Packed.

The line? Through the door.

The sticky ice cream residue smeared across their uniforms caught on their forearms, snagging at their skin as they worked up a sweat in the ice cream shop. They didn't have time to clear tables, clean up spills, or take out the trash, let alone deal with the typical bullshit banter that customers threw at them.

"We're out of peppermint stick."

"How? That's literally your least popular flavor."

It took everything in Robin to just smile flatly. Steve, however, couldn't hold back his exasperation as he threw his head back with an eye roll, pushed through the door to the back, then re-emerged with a challengingly deadpanned, "We're out."

He's pretty sure their ordering a USS Butterscotch was petty revenge. Whatever. It was only the seventh banana split he'd had to assemble in the last hour. His eye didn't twitch or anything.

After that, he and Robin swapped out. Figured it was time, since Steve had been scooping ice cream for so long. No other reason.

"Captain," the next customer greeted with a smirk.

Steve couldn't help but smile.

"What can I get you, sailor?"

"Oh, 'sailor' today," the customer said. Steve shot an amused look of warning. "I see."

Steve took in their appearance — deeply sleeveless band tee, flushed skin, sparkling brown eyes, curly hair in a low bun — as they mulled over options.

"Scoop of chocolate in a cup with a waffle sail, please," they smirked, placing a bill in Steve's open hand.

"You could've just gotten a cone," Steve replied, gathering change.

"Not the same, big boy."

Steve's lips curled up into a smile as he grabbed a spoon, stuck it in the scoop next to the artfully-placed wedge (nice, Robin), and handed the cup to Eddie.

"Aww, no baby spoon?"

"We're out." Steve glanced at his lips.

Eddie's eyes shifted to peer over Steve's shoulder to the well-stocked container.

"I'll eat it too fast."

"Aww," Steve gave a faux sympathetic pout. "Guess you'll have to get another scoop."

Eddie hummed then raised the cup in thanks with, "Birdie."

Robin saluted, and Eddie settled into a seat with a full view of Steve at the counter.

Through the hustle, Steve couldn't help but look over and take in Eddie slowly eating a big spoonful of ice cream. How his lips contoured the lump of chocolate. With full eye contact.

Steve overshot a cup, making strawberry milkshake pool onto his shoes.

#steddiemicroficjuly #it's a mess of his own making in more ways than one. steve knew what he was doing. #steddie #steddie fic #steddie microfic #reblog with your fav milkshake and/or ice cream flavor if you want! mine are strawberry and chocolate respectively #scoops ahoy