Chapter Text
This wasn’t supposed to happen. That’s what you would tell yourself, later. But, life is funny that way - nothing ever really goes the way you’d expect it. And, when you had taken the last-minute shift at Enoteca Bruni, the fine-dining restaurant where you worked as a cocktail waitress, you could have never predicted where the night would take you.
It had started with a large reservation that had come in around 8pm, four businessmen in suits and watches that you imagined cost more than your entire month’s rent. You were used to that type - considering the prices on the wine list, nearly everyone you served here lived at least three tax brackets above you. It wasn’t a job meant for everyone - a lot of these types of customers were dismissive, rude, and expected those who serve them to disappear in the background, not to interrupt whatever they were doing, which was obviously oh-so-important. But, the tips were phenomenal, and the late night hours worked perfectly with your daytime shifts at the cafe in the city’s center.
Still, the most intriguing thing about them was that they weren’t Italian, like you had gotten used to - nor were they speaking Spanish, French, German, or any of the other languages you had learned to recognize over the last few years. No, they were American. It wasn’t often that you heard your native tongue and accent nowadays - no, it was actually jarring. But, you welcomed it. The oldest man at the table, a gray-haired, thin man with a sharp face and tailored three-piece suit, smiled when you greeted them with a hello.
“How wonderful,” he had exclaimed. “Someone from our side of the world.”
“Finally,” a younger man with a smattering of freckles on the other side of the table had said, exasperated. “We’ve got someone who actually speaks English around here.”
“Well,” you said, “To be fair, you are in Rome. I suppose you could say we are the odd-ones-out.”
He rolled his eyes, and shrugged. “Yeah, well, I guess I’m just trying to say it’s nice to actually understand who I’m talking to for once, you know? Not that I’m looking for her to talk back.”
Unfortunately, that didn’t even crack the top ten worst things a customer had said to you in your time working here. So instead, you just plastered on a cheerful smile.
“Of course. In that case, what drinks can I get started for you gentlemen?”
As the hours wore on though, it was becoming harder and harder to feign kindness. With each wave of dismissal, or snap of their fingers, you wanted to take the drinks you were serving and throw them in their faces. The worst of the bunch were probably the first older man you had spoken to, who had such a vile demeanor about him that you couldn’t quite put your finger on it; and perhaps worse than him were two of the younger men, the dark-haired one with freckles, and a sandy-haired guy with what you could only describe as a mullet.
1982 called, it wants its hairstyle back, you thought to yourself.
It was those two who you could see undressing you with their eyes, who called you over for nonsense requests, asking you to bend over the table to get things that you knew they were perfectly capable of reaching themselves. And, you weren’t deaf; you heard the comments they made as you walked away to fetch more wine and scotch.
Look at that ass go, one of them said. I’d definitely hit it.
As if you could pull that, the other said. Besides, you’ve already got two bitches on the side Billy; leave some for the rest of us.
Don’t look at me, the sandy-haired man who was apparently named Billy retorted. If anyone around here needs to get laid, it’s Harrington.
With your back turned, you rolled your eyes, and wondered if they’d notice if you spit in their drink - that was, until no-first-name Harrington replied.
Guys, lay off - just let the girl do her job, yeah?
You took a deep breath, and recomposed yourself - it was the bare minimum, but it was something - someone who saw you as a person, maybe.
You carried the tray over with a wide smile plastered on your face, handing out drinks as you surveyed the table. You glanced at Harrington, the quietest one in the group - you had hardly heard a word from him all night, until right now. He was handsome, on the younger side of the group, but you’d estimate still about a decade your senior; he had a thick, slightly wild head of chestnut hair, and more of a boyish look about him. And with the exception of his perfectly-tailored suit and ostentatious Rolex, he didn’t look to have much else in common with his colleagues at first glance. While they sat at ease, laughing and conversing over their drinks, he sat up straight, stoically swirling his wine.
You pulled the post-dinner cigars they had asked you to bring out of the box, slicing the end with the guillotine cutter and handing the first one to the oldest man, striking a match and lighting it for him until he drew smoke. It felt humiliating sometimes, to light the Suits’ cigars for them as if they couldn’t do it themselves, but that came with the territory in a place like this, you had learned.
You reached Harrington last, only for him to shake his head.
“Oh, none for me - thank you though.”
Thank you - he was probably the first one from the table to say that all evening.
“Can I get you gentleman anything else?” you asked stiffly.
“That’ll be all, for now,” the gray-haired man said, waving you off.
You nodded, and at the bar, decided it was high time for your smoke break. You glanced at your watch - your shift was over in less than an hour, and your high heels were killing you. You signaled to the manager behind the bar that you were taking fifteen, and shouldered your way out the door.
*****
The first few minutes outside were peaceful, and relatively quiet - at least, as quiet as Rome could be at this hour. There was still the distant sound of traffic, the bustle of people on the sidewalk, many drunkenly stumbling and laughing, in the midst of making merry on a Friday night. You took a drag from your cigarette and inhaled deeply - even just a few moments off of your feet, and sitting out here on this bench in the fresh air, was starting to take the edge off. Still, you couldn’t shake that table of men - your manager had warned you that it was a very high-profile client, explaining that the dinner was likely a pretense for some multi-million dollar deal to be discussed. Still, you found yourself muttering under your breath, practicing the retorts and profanities you had wanted to throw at them. The shield you had built for dealing with customers was only so strong, and if your job wasn’t on the line, you probably would have told them to fuck off hours ago.
You were so lost in your thoughts that you don’t hear someone approaching, not until they’re right next to you, clearing their throat.
“Oh! Jesus, hi,” you say, clutching your chest with your hand. “I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there.”
Harrington was standing above you, hands in his pockets and his tie loosened.
“It’s fine - I promise, I didn’t mean to scare you.”
His smile was friendly, and a bit apologetic. He looked different in the dim light, a bit younger, and not at all like someone who spends his days in an office doing… whatever those men inside did.
“You mind if I sit?” he asked, gesturing to the empty spot next to you on the bench. You just shook your head, a bit wary of him still.
He smiled, and started fishing around in his pockets until he pulled out a small baggie of tobacco and a pack of rolling papers. You raised your eyebrows, and smirked.
“You roll your own cigarettes?” you asked.
He nodded, not quite looking at you, focused intently on the task and hand.
“Yep. It’s so much better than that crap you smoke, trust me.”
You scoffed, despite the fact that this man was technically your customer, and your shift wasn’t quite over yet.
“Yeah, well, I’m doing just fine with what I’ve got. Thanks though…” you trailed off, looking at him expectantly. He caught on and turned to face you, grinning.
“Steve. Steve Harrington.”
He extended a hand towards you. You hesitated for a moment, caught off-guard by the simplicity of the gesture from someone like him, but you took it, telling him your own name. His much bigger hand was warm and calloused, shaking yours firmly before pulling away.
You stared at him intently, desperately trying to figure him out as you placed your cigarette between your lips and inhaled. It was hard to figure out what exactly his deal was - but, he was talking to you like you were an actual person, so that was at least a step above most of the people you’d waited on here.
When he finished rolling, he stuck the cigarette between his lips, then sighed.
“Shit - d’you have a light?”
You nodded, reaching into your handbag and pulling out your small blue lighter. He leaned in close, close enough that you could faintly smell his cologne, feel the heat radiating off of him in the cool May evening. It took a moment for the flame to catch, then he was leaning back and he took a drag, letting his eyes flutter shut.
You looked away quickly, staring at the street ahead. Your black cocktail dress didn’t offer much coverage, causing you to shiver slightly as a breeze picked up. It was Steve who broke the silence, after a few moments.
“I want to apologize, by the way - my, uh, colleagues… they’re assholes.”
You nearly choked at his words, whipping around to face him.
“I’m sorry… what?”
“I - I don’t know how much you heard in there, but -”
“I heard enough,” you said quickly.
His face fell, then hardened. He looked… angry? Or, perhaps disappointed.
“I really am sorry. I know I probably should have said something, but…Brenner’s my boss. And, there’s a lot of people who would kill to work for him. So, you have to understand… I mean, Tommy and Billy, they’re real jerks. I can’t stand them, most of the time. So, just know that if you want to punch them in the face, I’d understand.”
You laughed at that, shaking your head.
“Well, just between you and me, I do want to punch them. But… I would really like to keep my job, and actually get a good tip at the end of the night. So, if I can make it through the next -” you glanced at your watch, “- half an hour or so, I’ll be alright. I’m kind of used to it anyway, working here.”
You felt his eyes on you, but didn’t turn to meet his gaze. Then, he said more softly, “I’m sorry to hear that. Really.”
You shrugged.
“It’s fine. But, thank you - most people don’t take the time to say that, I guess.”
A moment of semi-awkward silence fell between you and him, before you added, “But, it’s good to know that I apparently have a nice ass.”
He laughed at that, choking on the smoke he was inhaling.
“Oh God - Billy and Tommy really are the worst. Did you hear that they actually were trying to make a bet about you in there?”
You raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued.
“What kind of bet?”
He suddenly broke eye contact, staring straight ahead as he shook his head vigorously.
“You know what - nevermind, you’d be disgusted -”
“Well now you have to tell me,” you conceded, inching closer. “C’mon, it can’t be that bad -”
“They said if I manage to get you to go home with me tonight, they’d agree on this huge deal with HNL that they’ve been trying to close with our European counterpart for months - they said it because they knew it wouldn’t happen, of course, I don’t really -”
“What would you get?” you asked bluntly.
“Huh?”
“If they thought you won the bet, like, would that be good for your job?”
He scoffs, nodding fervently.
“Um, yes - my yearly bonus would probably quadruple -”
“Then let’s do it,” you said.
His mouth fell open, and he was staring at you like you had three heads.
“Do what, exactly?”
He suddenly looked flushed, frozen in place as he stared at you. You felt a devilish grin spread on your face as you looked back at him, stubbing out the cigarette with the toe of your shoe.
“Here’s what we’re going to do, Harrington.”
*****
You had made sure he arrived back at the table only moments before you. The group of cajoling men were louder now, Tommy slurring his words and Billy in a heated debate with Brenner. Steve flashed a smile at the group, then started sipping his drink as if he had never left.
“What I’m saying is, if we offer them 14 percent -”
“Well, at that rate, we may as well sell them the whole goddamn company -”
“We’re going to have to budge at least a little if we want to make headway, otherwise Upside Tech might outbid us -”
“Harrington!” Tommy cried over the other two men. “Where th’hell ‘ave you been? You left me stranded with these two, they’re actually trying to work right now -”
Then, he spotted you, suddenly flashing a grin that was too wide for your liking.
“Mademoiselle - might I say, I think you’ve only gotten hotter since I last saw you -”
“That was only about twenty minutes ago,” Steve said firmly, cutting Tommy off. “Also, we’re in Italy, not France.”
Tommy waved him off, leaning closer across the table, towards where you stood.
“May I ask, how’re you getting home tonight, little lady?”
You just smiled.
“I’m actually so happy you brought that up - while I appreciate your concern and all, I’ve got that covered.”
You then turned to Steve, who froze in place.
“Ready to go, Steve?” you asked innocently.
All conversation stopped, then, the other men around the table stopped to gape at him. A smug smirk appeared on Steve’s face, and he stood up slowly, smoothing out his suit.
“Of course, sweetheart.”
Despite yourself, your heart fluttered at the pet name, as ridiculous as it felt.
“What?” Billy said, his jaw nearly on the floor.
But before they could ask any more questions, Steve was holding out his bent arm, which you graciously hooked yourself through. You pressed yourself into his side, flashing another grin back at the group.
“I’ve left your bill on the table - thank you gentlemen for a wonderful evening, and we hope to see you soon!”
Then Steve surveyed the table, adding, “I suspect you’ll be in touch about negotiation meetings shortly? Since that was the deal and all. I’ll see you at the office on Monday.”
Then, you and Steve turned a corner and headed out the door, to where a car was already waiting for you.
Steve gestured for you to go in ahead of him, opening the backseat door. You slid across, greeting the driver quickly and Steve followed, shutting the door behind you. The second it was closed, you both looked at each other, and burst into uncontrollable laughter.
“Oh my God - did you see their faces?”
“I’m going to live on that for years,” he added, fighting to breathe. You threw your head back, practically cackling at the memory of their dumbfounded expressions.
“That was amazing,” Steve said, regaining his composure. “Seriously, thank you.”
“Don’t mention it - I think I got off of it more than you.”
“I doubt that.”
You met his gaze, and your breath stopped for a moment. He really was handsome, his honey-brown eyes staring into yours with such sincerity that it was actually overwhelming. You looked away quickly, staring straight ahead.
“Well, if anything, it made my shift more interesting, so thanks,” you said, fiddling with your hands in your lap.
“Yeah, and you just made me my yearly bonus, so thank you.”
After a moment, he cleared his throat.
“So, uh, where do you live? So I can get you home.”
“Oh! Right,” you said. “Um, do you have any ID or anything?”
Steve furrowed his brow, confused.
“Why are you asking?”
“Look, don’t take this personally - I’ve watched way too much Criminal Minds in my life. And, while I’m sure you’re nice and all, I’m not exactly gonna tell a strange man I’ve never met where I live without some precautions. So, I’m going to take a picture of your ID and send it to my roommate, so she knows who to turn in if I end up on the news, yeah?”
Steve just smirked, and pulled out his wallet.
“So, you think I’m strange?”
You shrugged, fighting a smile.
“Obviously, yes.”
Steve chuckled softly, fishing his license out of his wallet.
“Fair enough - as long as you’re not trying to steal my identity or anything.”
“Oh, definitely,” you said sarcastically. “I was actually going to buy a mansion in your name, if that’s alright.”
He laughed, handing you the card as you took a photo. The address was in Indiana - interesting. He was also 30, judging from his birthday - nearly ten years older than you. Also interesting. You handed it back, shooting a quick text to Robin:
I’ll explain later, but in case I get murdered!
You attached the photo and pressed send.
Satisfied, you leaned forward, telling your address to the driver, who nodded and pulled onto the busy city street.
You leaned back in your seat, staring out the window. You passed dimly-lit alleyways and bustling restaurants, groups smoking on the sidewalk and couples kissing on benches as the evening started winding down. The silence in the car is comfortable enough, considering that you met the man beside you a few hours ago. It’s him who breaks the lull in conversation, once again.
“So, why did you do it?” he asked quietly.
“Hm?”
“The bet? Well, kind of - at least, why did you make it look like I - like we -”
You shrugged, shifting to face him.
“Honestly?”
He nodded, gaze fixed on you.
“Well - a few reasons, I guess. I knew it would get those jerks off of my back. And, I knew it would help you, with your bonus and all.”
“And why did you want to help me, though? You know nothing about me.”
“Not true,” you said firmly. “I know one thing.”
“And what’s that?”
“You’re kind.”
It was simple, but true - for the type of clientele you usually served, he was a rare breed. Maybe it wasn’t much, but it was something.
“I mean, you were nice to me, and actually treated me like a person. I can’t say that for a lot of people, not in that place.”
“Oh,” he said softly.
A beat. Two. Then, he added, “Oh no - I didn’t even ask, did you have a car, back at the restaurant? Because we can go back and get it -”
“No, don’t worry about it - I don’t have one. I usually take the bus.”
“Oh - alright.”
You tried to stop yourself from rolling your eyes - Steve probably wouldn’t be caught dead on a bus. Or any public transport, for that matter. But, you kept it within yourself, and turned out towards the window again - the sights were getting more familiar, the buildings a little more run-down - closer to home.
You noticed your phone light up in your lap, and glanced down - a response from Robin.
Um… congrats???? Getting laid???? You’d better tell me EVERYTHING!!!!
You laughed under your breath, and saw Steve move to look at you out of the corner of your eye, curious. Before you could respond to her message, the car came to a halt right outside of your apartment building. You sighed, and turned to face the man beside you.
“Well, this is me. Thank you. For the ride home, I mean - you didn’t really have to do that.”
“Of course I did,” Steve said, waving a hand. “Had to make sure you got home safely and all, it was the least I could do.”
You both looked at each other for a moment, faces soft. You shot him another appreciative smile, and popped open the car door.
“Goodnight, Steve Harrington. Until we meet again!”
You knew the chances of seeing him ever again were slim at best, but it felt like the right thing to say, given the hilarity of the situation. After slamming the door shut, you rooted through your bag for your keys, taking the steps up to your door two at a time. Before heading inside, you turned and waved to the car one more time - Steve wasn’t visible through the tinted windows, but you liked to imagine that he was waving back, maybe even smiling fondly.
******
Two days later, an envelope was pushed through the mail slot in your door. It was Robin who brought it in, plopping it down on the kitchen table as you sipped your coffee.
“What’s that?” you asked.
She shrugged, carding through the other envelopes and flyers.
“Don’t know. But, it’s made out to you. The envelope looks fancy though - I mean, who the Hell puts a wax seal on letters anymore?”
You felt your heart skip a beat, and snatched it up, turning it over in your hands - it was thick, the nice kind of stationary that you had to go out of your way to buy. There was a return address, but it seemed like it was for an office building of some kind, with no name associated. And, right on the center, a red wax seal with an H. You felt your face grow hot, your stomach doing somersaults as you practically tore the thing open.
Inside was a simple piece of paper with a note scrawled on it. After writing out your name, it read:
Thank you again, for the other night. You have no idea how much that helped me out. Plus, it was probably the best time I’ve had at a work event… well, ever. But, since you provided such great service… you really should be tipped appropriately. I also made sure to leave a glowing review with your manager the next day. Buy yourself something nice.
- S.H.
You glanced back in the envelope, and gasped - loudly enough that Robin stopped what she was doing, and joined you in her awe.
“Is that -”
“Yeah,” you whispered. “It’s a shit ton of money.”
He had sent a stack of €100 notes - you hadn’t counted yet, but it had to be over €1,000, at least.
“Dude, that’s like, at least two months’ rent right there, right?” Robin asks, flabbergasted.
“I - yeah.”
“Okay, be honest - are you a drug dealer? Is that, like, a side gig you’ve got going?”
You shook your head incredulously, gripping the money - the most cash you had ever held at one time in your life.
“No,” you admitted. “That would be a lot easier to explain.”
Steve Harrington, you thought to yourself, what’s your deal?