Chapter Text
After all that had happened in the last 48 hours, all Steve and Robin had wanted to do was sleep. The truth serum had left their systems. They'd both been checked out by medics, and Steve had strongly refused to go to hospital for his almost guaranteed concussion as he knew he wouldn't be able to explain his panic at the mere thought of anyone coming near him with a needle right now. And Robin couldn't bear having to explain this all away to her mother.
And so, Joyce dropped them both at Steve's after making them both promise that they'd call her in the morning.
It took Steve exactly four attempts to get his key into the lock, and he managed to scratch the metal of the keyhole twice on attempt three. The following fifteen minutes consisted of Robin pushing past Steve in her impatience to get upstairs and onto a soft surface, which she decided would be the runner at the top of the stairs. With Steve following her and nearly tripping over her.
Neither of them could've told you how they ended up in Steve's room without adding to their laundry lists of injuries. But they did. And Steve, having arrived to his bedroom first, had managed to change out of his sick and blood encrusted sailor suit into the loosest, softest pair of pyjamas he could find.
He offered Robin another pair of his pyjamas. A new pair he'd yet to wear yet, as he'd decided in his exhausted state that that was the most polite thing to offer. He pointed and mimed the directions to his bathroom. And off Robin had stumbled.
She was gone for a further twenty minutes. If Steve hadn't already curled up in bed and begun to doze off, he would've been concerned. Especially when Robin's return was signalled by a loud crash right outside his door. She'd knocked over but somehow not broken one of his mom’s favourite vases he discovered in the morning.
“Cold”, Robin had declared as she belly flopped onto the edge of Steve's bed. She would've been mortified just days before to be sharing a room, let alone a bed, with Steve Harrington. But the past two days had rocked her world view enough, and scared her enough, that she knew she wouldn't have slept in a room on her own.
She was shaking now. From the aforementioned cold, but also from the come down of the adrenaline shed been living off of for days. She wasn't sure Steve was even awake to hear her. But when a soft, well worn grey Hawkins High sweater was thrown her way, she knew she had been heard.
She shrugs it on still laid down. And when morning comes she wears it to walk home. She returns it not long after. It felt too weird to keep around, and she knew she'd likely never wear it again herself. She also makes sure that Steve remembered her confession when she returned the sweater. Just to make sure.
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If you asked Robin, the small act of sharing clothes, not matching like Dustin had been obsessed with them doing, had been what had solidified their friendship. And Steve would agree.