Chapter Text
Within a week and a half of the funeral, Steve's life returned to normal. He fall back into his regular routine, grateful for the distraction, and Robin was mercifully quiet about the whole ordeal. To Steve's surprise, Robin didn't mention it at all, just tossed Steve a stack of tapes and told him to put them back on the shelves where they belonged. He usually hated sorting and shelving returned tapes, but the monotony of it was welcome. Here was the proof that some things never changed, no matter how far everything else fell into chaos. There would always be Family Video to pick up the slack and make a turbulent week blissfully boring.
"Steve? Earth to Steve?"
Steve barely even realized Robin was talking to him.
"Steeeeeve..."
"What?"
"Are we going to talk about it?"
Shit. "Talk about what?" he asked defensively.
"Your hair," Robin said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Where's the hairspray?"
Steve ran his hand through his hair to find that she was right. There wasn't any hairspray in it today. As mystified as Robin sounded, Steve admitted he didn't know. He'd been forgetting a lot of insignificantly significant things lately. The stupid things that seemed so dire before, like perfectly styled hair or matching socks, just didn't seem to matter anymore. Steve was in some kind of limbo, just waiting for his life to make sense again.
"I guess I forgot," was the only explanation Steve could muster. Even he noticed how exhausted he sounded, but Robin—saint that she was—didn't mention it. Instead, she yawned, stretched her arms out over her head, and fixed Steve with a curious stare, her eyes very wide and round as they searched his face. He hugged himself, suddenly self-conscious, and waited for her to say something. She didn't. Steve waited another agonizingly long moment, but still Robin said nothing. Finally, he sighed and started shelving the tapes, turning his back to the counter and to Robin.
Not one to be deterred by silence, Robin followed. "Hey, Steve, can I ask you something?"
Steve shrugged, which Robin took as a yes.
"Do you think it's, like, way too soon to tell Nance I love her, or would you just... I don't know... go for it?"
"First of all," Steve said, "I think it's sweet that you'd ask me. Second of all, I think you're overthinking it! I know Nancy, Robin, and I see her looking at you the way she... the way she does when she's in love. She loves you, but she's scared of loving another person she might lose. You know what I mean?"
Sounding a lot like Eddie, Robin said, "Seldom, if ever."
"Well, we crashed and burned spectacularly and then she and Jonathan crashed and burned spectacularly, so maybe she's worried that you two will crash and burn spectacularly if she lets her guard down."
"Oh." Robin chewed the inside of her cheek. "She knows I'd never hurt her like that, right? I mean, she's it, Steve. She's the girl of my dreams and I'm not going to screw it up!"
"You're not." Steve rearranged a few out-of-order tapes before shelving the ones Robin had given him. "I don't think you can screw it up. Nancy thinks everything you do is the cutest thing ever in the history of the universe."
Robin blushed, glancing down at her feet. "Really?" she asked.
"Really. Every time we talk, she tells me about you doing one of your usual Robin things and frames it like you just invented the goddamn telephone."
It shouldn't have been possible, but Robin's face flushed even redder. She hid behind her hands, peeked out from between her fingers, and barely managed to squeak, "Really?"
For a brief, beautiful moment, Steve almost forgot how miserable things were. For a moment, he and Robin were just a couple of dumbass kids working their dumbass job at the dumbass local video store. Reality had to crash back down eventually.
Sighing, Steve said, "Really. She..." He couldn't finish the thought.
With surprising grace, Robin moved closer to rest her head on Steve's shoulder. She smelled like apples, cinnamon, and the mint bubblegum she liked, and her cheek was warm, even through the fabric of Steve's shirt. She looped her arm through his, squeezed, and let herself settle into stillness. For Robin, that was almost a miracle. She was always moving, always running at a mile a minute, but she stood still and peaceful now. Steve stood next to her, a little less still and much less peaceful.
"You know you don't need to feel guilty, right?" Robin asked. Steve must have looked puzzled, because she explained quickly. "You tend to make things your fault, even when they're not. Especially when they're not. You're a good dude, Steve Harrington, and I need to know that you know that. You deserve to know that."
Steve smiled weakly. "Thanks. You're pretty cool, too."
"Well, obviously, but this isn't about me. It's about you. I already know I'm cool."
Steve nodded absentmindedly, chewing at the skin around his thumbnail. Robin smacked his hand.
"Stop that!" she scolded. She really didn't have a leg to stand on, Steve wanted to point out, because she was constantly biting her nails.
He said instead, "You know, it's funny—I used to think I was super cool."
She squeezed his arm again, harder. "Yeah, but being an asshole and being cool are totally different."
"I know that now. Jesus, do you have to rub it in?"
Robin exhaled sharply through her nose, laughing.
"Robin, come on!" Steve cried exasperatedly. "Are you just going to stand there laughing at me all day?"
Robin shrugged. "It's possible. I'm distracting you, aren't I?"
"And what makes you think I need distraction?"
"You didn't put hairspray in your hair this morning. I'd say that's a pretty good indicator that things aren't entirely okay up there in the cobweb-filled attic you call your brain." She tapped the side of his head for good measure.
"Wow." Steve tried to sound stern and displeased, but it was difficult with Robin giggling every two seconds. "You're such an asshole."
"You love me."
"Yeah, I do. Sucks to be me, doesn't it?"
Robin smacked his shoulder. "I can't believe we're stuck with each other for another couple of hours. I think I might actually defenestrate some tapes." Then, smiling, she added, "To defenestrate something is to throw it out a window."
"Very funny. I know what defenestrate means." Steve left out the part about learning the word from Dustin Henderson. He'd already done enough damage to his image. After all, who was Steve Harrington without hairspray? It was practically his whole personality at this point!
Robin's eyebrow twitched, but she didn't question him. "You're a good guy, Steve. Don't forget it."
"I won't," Steve promised. By the time they finished their shift, he knew he probably wouldn't remember, but Robin didn't need to know that.