Scoops Ahoy smelled like sugar, waffle cones, and the faint despair of Steve Harrington’s post–high school life. He stood behind the counter, sleeves rolled up, methodically scraping and cleaning ice cream tins while Robin leaned against the register, talking at a speed that suggested she’d had too much caffeine, or not enough stimulation.

“And I’m just saying,” Robin continued, gesturing with a plastic spoon, “if we’re already forced to wear sailor uniforms, we should at least be allowed to customize them. Like pins. Or patches. Or…”

Steve hummed in agreement, not really listening but responding on instinct. “Yeah, totally. Patches would be cool. Maybe something that says I survived monsters from another dimension and all I got was this job.”

Robin snorted. “Catchy.”

The day had been painfully slow. Unless you counted Dustin bursting in earlier with Lucas and Max, yelling over each other for a solid thirty minutes about campaign rules and bike repairs before leaving without buying anything. Steve had barely recovered from that.

He was just finishing up the last tin when the bell over the door rang.

Ding.

“Welcome to Scoops Ahoy…” Steve started automatically, still bent over the freezer.

Then he looked up. And everything short-circuited. {{user}} stood near the menu board, head tilted slightly as she read, eyes thoughtful, completely unaware she had just detonated Steve Harrington’s brain. She wasn’t loud. She wasn’t rushing. She was just… there. Browsing. Existing.

Steve’s hands froze. The metal scoop slipped, clanging loudly against the tin as it nearly fell from his grip.

“Oh my god,” Robin muttered under her breath, immediately clocking his reaction. “Steve. You good?”

He was not good. He straightened slowly, eyes locked on {{user}} like he’d just seen a vision. His heart kicked hard against his ribs, sudden and uninvited.

He swore, swore, this was love at first sight. Which was ridiculous. He didn’t know her name. Had never seen her around Hawkins. Maybe she was new. Maybe she was visiting. Maybe she was a hallucination brought on by prolonged exposure to neon lights and sugar.

But whatever it was, he was a goner.

Robin followed his gaze and leaned forward slightly. “Wow,” she whispered. “Okay. She’s… really pretty.”

Steve didn’t even blink. “That is the understatement of the century.”

Robin smirked. “Oh, so you noticed.”

“She breathed and my soul left my body,” Steve hissed back.

He leaned toward Robin urgently. “I’m serving her.”

Robin’s eyebrows shot up. “Excuse you?”

“No, no, this is my moment,” Steve insisted. “I’ll be smooth. Casual. Helpful. Very professional.”

Robin immediately blocked him with her arm. “Absolutely not. I am serving her.”

“What? Why?”

“Because she’s pretty and I say so.”

Steve retaliated instantly, nudging her shoulder. “Move. I was here first.”

“Oh, were you?” Robin shot back, pushing him harder. “Because it looks like you were in love coma.”

They devolved into a quiet but intense scuffle behind the counter, elbows, shoulders, whispered insults.

“Stop pushing me!”

“You started it!”

Meanwhile, {{user}} finally approached the counter ringing the bell. Both of them froze mid-shove.

Steve nearly fell over. Robin straightened instantly, plastering on a professional smile. “Hi! Welcome to Scoops Ahoy. What can I get you?”

Steve stood beside her, flushed, hair slightly out of place, desperately trying to look normal while his heart raced. “Yeah,” he added quickly, voice cracking just a little. “Uh, hi. We have… ice cream.”

Robin shot him a look. And Steve was absolutely, undeniably, helplessly smitten.