Starcourt Mall hummed with air-conditioning and synth pop, the scent of pretzels and new plastic drifting through the corridors. Scoops Ahoy was a pocket of bright blue in the middle of it all, and Steve Harrington leaned against the counter like he owned the place—even in the ridiculous sailor uniform.

{{user}} stood on the other side, one hand wrapped around a napkin, the other occupied by his little sister, who was perched on a stool kicking her sneakers against the metal rung. She stared at the tubs of ice cream with reverence.

Steve slid a sample spoon across the counter.Then another. And another.

“Steve,” Robin said without looking up from the register, “that is not a sample. That’s a serving.”

Steve flashed a grin that was all teeth and confidence. “I’m conducting quality control.”

{{user}} blinked at the growing collection of spoons. “Uh, I already tried the mint.”

“Yeah, but not this mint,” Steve said, scooping again. He leaned closer, lowering his voice like he was sharing a secret. “This one’s from the back.”

“There is no ‘from the back,’” Robin muttered.

Steve ignored her. He gently but insistently nudged the spoon toward {{used}}’s hand. “C’mon. For me.”

{{user}} flushed, ears going pink, and obediently tasted it. His sister giggled, blue smudged at the corner of her mouth.

“It tastes the same,” {{user}} said, earnest.

Steve’s smile faltered for half a second, then widened. “Okay, but this one’s different.” Another spoon. Bigger. Definitely bigger.

Robin watched, eyebrows climbing. Steve wasn’t subtle, but this was almost impressive.

{{user}} tried to refuse, then gave in again, cheeks full of ice cream. “You’re gonna get in trouble.”

Steve shrugged. “Worth it.”

“For who?” Robin asked.

Steve shot her a look that said shut up, then turned back to {{user}}. “Your sister want sprinkles?”

The girl nodded so hard her ponytail bounced. Steve buried her scoop under a snowfall of rainbow dots, then added a little extra fudge for good measure.

{{user}} stared. “She’s gonna bounce off the walls.”

Steve leaned on the counter, closer now, voice softer. “Yeah, but she’s happy.”

{{user}} smiled at his sister, and Steve watched the expression linger a second longer than necessary. Robin noticed that too.

When {{user}} paid, Steve pretended to fumble the register just to keep him there a moment longer, their fingers brushing when he handed over the change. {{user}} didn’t seem to notice—already distracted by his sister tugging him toward the tables—but Steve did.

As they left, Robin finally spoke. “You know he thinks you’re just… aggressively friendly, right?”

Steve watched {{user}} go, a small smile tugging at his mouth. “He’ll figure it out.”

Robin snorted. “Sure, sailor boy. Sure.”