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himbosandhardwear · 3 months ago

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Steddie I 2.1k I different first meeting I modern au I one sided enemies to lovers I rated T

“I mean, if looking like a dyke is the goal, you're nailing it,” Steve tells Robin as she holds the phone back to showcase her date outfit. “Change the belt, I think-”

He hears a throat clear behind him and spins around to find Eddie the bar manager standing behind him, a blank face and closed off body language.

“Shit,” he mumbles. “Rob, I have to go. I'll text you after work.” He hangs up on her and stuffs his phone into his back pocket. “Sorry about that. Hi, you must be Eddie.” He holds out his hand to shake but Eddie just looks at it. He lowers it, the sting of rejection biting low in his stomach. “Um. Harvey said you just got back from a tour? That's cool.”

“Mmhmm.” He sniffs. “You're on garnish duty,” he says, cold and succinct, before turning away.

It's only Steve's third day behind the bar but he'd been slinging drinks with Rachel the night before. Barback duties are beneath him, he's got six years bartending experience. He doesn't want to complain though, not to Eddie who hated him on sight, and not during his first week.

They stay out of each other's way for the first half of the night, Steve relegated to the back, slicing limes and making the pre-mixes.

He's not used to being hated so thoroughly like this. Eddie hasn't uttered a word directly to Steve since sending him to the back, but he catches Eddie's eye a few times and it's like ice water down his back. The people-pleasing little boy in him wants to cry but he's a grown fucking man, he's not going to let this bother him. Just because he was looking forward to meeting Eddie, wanted to make a friend here, wanted to get to know the guy who managed the bar when he wasn't shredding across the country. Maybe if the owner hadn't talked Eddie up like he was the next Chris Martin…or whoever the metal equivalent of that would be. And, yeah, he'd seen the photos of Eddie, the Polaroids behind the bar of him with staff and guests, and thought he was stupid hot, with his tangled curls and the dimples, and maybe he'd had some inappropriate thoughts about his in absentia boss, and maybe he'd fantasized about flirting at the end of the night, and maybe-

Anyway, it's all good. Eddie doesn't owe him kindness or friendship or a single dimpled smile. Sometimes people just don't get along and that's okay.

“Your Fernet,” he mumbles as he sets the bottle at Eddie's elbow, head down like a dog that's used to booted feet. He feels like an idiot but Eddie's frosty demeanor feels like it's balanced on a knife's edge, like he could tip over into a blazing explosion if Steve says or does the wrong thing.

Eddie doesn't thank him, just snatches the bottle and walks away.

“You're welcome,” he snarks under his breath after Eddie's well away.

“Can I get a rum and coke?” A guy asks over the counter.

Steve hesitates. He's not welcome at the bar, Eddie has made that abundantly clear, but he wasn't hired as a barback, he's a bartender, so he smiles at the guy and starts making the drink. Eddie is busy at the other end of the bar anyway.

“You're new,” the guy says, making conversation as Steve works.

“Yeah, it's my first week.”

“You liking it so far?”

Steve glances down the bar, watching Eddie shake a cocktail like he's fucking Tom Cruise or something. His face lights up at something the woman he's talking to says and the crack of his laugh travels the length of the bar, punching Steve right in the stomach. His dimples are really something to see in motion.

“Jesus Christ, I wanna wrap you in tinsel.”

Steve whips his head back around. “Huh?”

The guy chuckles. “Because you're pining so hard. Get it? Pine-ing.”

Well shit. He deflates. “That obvious, huh?”

The guy accepts his drink with a shrug. “Maybe not to everyone but to a…certain demographic…” He gives Steve a little limp wristed wave, which makes Steve crack a laugh.

“I'm Steve, by the way,” he holds out his hand, which the guy takes easily, unlike some people.

“Cary, like Cary Grant.”

“Or Cary Elwes.”

“Exactly.” He leans a ways over the bar and mumbles, “Don't look but your boy is watching us.”

Steve forces his body to not stiffen up. “Does he look mad?”

“No. Confused if anything. Pretend like I just said the funniest thing you've ever heard.”

Steve, always down for shenanigans, tips his head back and fakes the loudest howl he can without being too over the top.

“Oh, you're good. He's got his eye on you, doll. Make the most of it.”

Steve leans into the shared space, eyes half-lidded. “I hope he's seething with jealousy. He could've had me six ways from Sunday but instead he decided to hate my guts at first sight.”

“What an absolute dumbass.” Cary reaches up and taps Steve's collarbone. “If I wasn't already taken, and you weren't pining like a Christmas tree, we could've ridden into the sunset together.”

“If only,” Steve agrees with a soft laugh.

“We're out of Matcha.”

Steve jumps out of his skin. Eddie is standing three inches from Steve's side, eyes burning into him like he just caught Steve keying his car.

“Make your own Matcha,” Cary snarks, “Steve and I are getting to know one another.”

Without breaking eye contact with Steve, he growls, “I think Tony, your fiance, would prefer it if Steve made the Matcha.”

Chills run down Steve's back and arms but he maintains composure. “On it, boss.”

He slips out from under Eddie's gaze, finger waving to Cary on his way back to the kitchen. He can hear Eddie chastising but he chooses to ignore him in favor of hyperventilating in the walk-in.

“What the fuck.”

Eyes like black flames, licking up the side of Steve's neck. Collarbones raising and lowering in the light of the bar as his chest moved with each breath. Hands clenched at his sides, white knuckled.

That wasn't cold at all.

He moves on autopilot for the rest of his shift. Eddie doesn't talk to him again but Steve can feel his eyes on the back of his neck, raising the hairs and keeping him from forgetting Eddie’s existence.

Towards the end of his shift, just before midnight, he hears Robin calling his name from the bar. He comes out of the kitchen, happy to see her waving him over, excited to introduce her date. He probably shouldn't encourage this behavior, it's his first week after all, but the restaurant is closing and the bar is empty.

“Hey, you must be Chrissy,” he greets the petite woman at Robin's side, takes her tiny hand in his and gives it a firm shake. “Pleasure to meet you.”

“Same! I couldn't believe it when Robin said you'd just started here. Like, it's a crazy coincidence.”

He cocks his head but before he can ask, Eddie comes bounding over from the other side of the bar and lifts Chrissy up off her stool, swinging her in a circle while she shrieks with laughter.

“Apparently Eddie is her best friend,” Rob fills him in, sort of unnecessary at this point. Steve wouldn't have been able to imagine Eddie looking so happy, he'd been so sour faced all night. Even when he'd been laughing with the customer earlier, it was only a fraction of this.

“Tell me everything,” Chrissy is saying after he puts her down. “Last I heard you loved Cleveland and hated Boston, which I maintain is insane.”

“And I maintain you didn't have to navigate the Boston roadways with Boston drivers,” Eddie argues, still grinning. “But it was great. Exhausting but…yeah, fucking awesome.”

“I'm so proud of you, Eds. You deserve it.”

He actually fucking blushes, which is devastating to Steve's crush. Just devastating.

“Shut up,” he mumbles. “Oh, sorry, you must be Robin. Thanks for bringing Chris to see me.” He shakes her hand, not hating her on sight, Steve notes.

“No problem, but I didn't, she brought me here to see the Dingus.” At Eddie's confused look she throws a thumb back at Steve, who waves.

“Yeah, hi. Your best friend is dating my best friend. Sorry. Guess that means you're stuck with me.”

His frown doesn't abate with this explanation.

“Because they're lesbians. She's gonna have me helping her move into Chrissy’s place in, like, a week.”

“Shut up!” Robin reaches across the bar to slap the shit out of his arm and then tosses a lemon wedge at him when he jumps back out of swinging range. Chrissy giggles at them.

“Knock it off, I worked hard on those.” He picks the wedge up off the floor and tosses it into the trash. Three points.

When he looks back up, Eddie is staring at him, wide eyed.

“Oh.”

“Oh?” Steve questions.

“Ohhh.” He presses his wrists into his eye sockets.

Steve looks at Robin and Chrissy in confusion but they're both as lost as him.

“I'm an asshole.” He hasn't removed his hands yet.

“Yes,” Chrissy agrees immediately, “what did you do, Eddie?”

He finally looks up at Steve, who takes a step back, involuntarily. They stare at one another for thirty seconds. Or two days. He's not sure.

“Eddie?” Chrissy prompts again.

“I-” He turns around and walks away.

Chrissy rushes after him and yanks him back. They get into a tug match, which Chrissy wins, somehow.

“I love her,” Robin mumbles.

“I fucking said. Less than a week.”

She slides a look his way, one that reads ‘Like you're any better.’ He shouldn't have told her about his plan to seduce his boss, who he hadn't even met yet.

“Whatever you did, you apologize right now,” Chrissy commands to a pouting Eddie.

Steve stands there, eyebrows up, as Eddie grumbles an apology that would do an eleven year old Dustin proud.

“What is happening right now?” He wonders aloud.

Eddie folds his arms across his chest, his black button down stretching across his shoulders beautifully. “I heard your conversation with Robin earlier. You said something about her looking like a dyke and…I made an assumption on the kind of person you were. And I was an asshole to you because of it. I'm sorry.”

“Oh,” Steve whispers in understanding. A weight lifts off his chest. “Fuck. That's hilarious.” He can't stop the giggles from erupting.

“Okay, in my defense, most straight guys don’t get a pass.”

Steve and Robin look at each other and crack up. He wants to ask what Eddie thinks was going on with Cary if he assumed Steve was straight but Robin shrieks, “You think I would hang out with a straight man!”

“Hey! You did hang out with me when I thought I was straight!”

She shakes her head like a smug asshole. “Debatable. You've always been a lil fruity. Tommy H? Whatever that was with Billy? C'mon.”

Steve takes a turn at slapping her. When he looks back up, he finds Eddie looking at him like a kid who just found coal in his stocking, dark eyes wet and bottom lip desperately trying not to pout.

“Holy shit, stop making that face,” Steve begs.

“I can't.”

Chrissy leans up on her knees, wobbling precariously on the stool, to physically push his lip back where it belongs. He smacks her hand away and then puts his own back up to his eyes, pushing hard.

“This is divine punishment. The universe sensed I was too happy so they sent you to test me. Big fat F, just like always,” he mumbles, nonsensically.

Steve looks to Chrissy to translate.

She puts a finger to her chin, looks between the two of them, and then concludes, “He thinks you're hot and that he ruined his chances by being a prick.”

“Chrissy!” Eddie's shriek puts Robin's to shame.

But he's not denying it.

Steve makes extremely pointed eye contact with Robin and says, “It's getting late. Eddie and I have to close the bar. You should see Chrissy home.”

She nods, slow and then quick, as the message lands.

“Yes! Yes, let's get going. Leave these guys to…close the bar.”

Smooth.

They giggle the entire way out the door but Steve ignores them. Eddie is staring again, dark eyes pinning him to the mirror behind the bar.

“I was going to ask earlier but I didn't think it was appropriate…”

Eddie swallows, throat bobbing. “Ask what?”

“What's the company policy on fraternization?”

As a former jock, Steve is thoroughly impressed by Eddie's form as he vaults the bar.

#eddie cleared it in two seconds #hes never been so agile #if youre wondering yes they did get it on #in the owners office #gotta keep it sanitary #steddie #ficlet #my writing