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//
To Robin, Steve Harrington’s pool used to be the stuff of legend.
She would hear people talk about it in the hallways of Hawkins High School as she made her way to class on Monday mornings – they’d huddle in groups, loudly proclaiming how great last weekend’s party at Steve’s had been, as if they wanted everyone to know that they’d attended, like it was a badge of honor to have been there.
Robin hadn’t cared one bit. She’d tried to ignore the chatter, because what was it to her that the party had gone on until early Sunday morning, or that the pool was heated? So what if not even the changing of the seasons could hamper the whims of King Steve?
It wasn’t like Robin was ever going to have a chance to check the pool out for herself.
But then the King was dethroned – or abdicated, depending on who you asked – and Robin found herself scooping ice cream in the company of ex-royalty while fending off his adopted gaggle of middle schoolers.
And long story short, Robin somehow, strangely and suddenly, gained a new friend. But only after a weird friendship test where she had to help Steve and his children save Hawkins – and probably the rest of the world, too – from the USSR.
Anyway, that’s how she now finds herself with a standing invitation to Steve’s house – and as it turns out the pool’s every bit as awesome as the rumors had suggested.
It is indeed heated, which Robin can definitely appreciate on those cool autumn days when all she wants to do is submerge herself in a hot tub after a long day of work – and if she makes Steve sit on the edge of the pool and splash his feet in the water, she can close her eyes and imagine that that’s just what she’s doing, even if he bitches at her the entire time. Also, the tile work on the bottom of the pool is beautiful, and Steve’s parents have a standing arrangement to have the water changed and the pool cleaned at the start of every month, so it always feels fresh – which is not something Robin has ever been able to say about Hawkins Community Pool.
Best of all, there are no teenage boys or men ogling Robin’s every move – only Steve, who’s usually keeping an eye on her for no other reason than that he’s trying to catch her unaware so that he can dunk her under the water. Joke’s on him though, because as it turns out, Robin’s the best dingus-dunker in town.
So yeah, she’s is a big fan of Steve Harrington’s pool. Even if it usually comes with half a dozen preteens included.
But that’s a whole other topic.
//
It’s not something Robin would ever admit out loud, but out of all of Steve’s children, Dustin might possibly be her favorite.
He’s loud and opinionated and almost detrimentally blunt most of the time, but he’s also fiercely protective of Steve and their weird little friendship.
Because now that Robin has come to know Steve, she’s realized that he’s far softer than she’d ever expected him to be; he’s all heart, a big marshmallow-soft goof who’s prone to tripping over his own feet in his haste to care about other people. It had... surprised her at first, but with time she gets used to the thought, and realizes that a little protector is just what Steve needs. Especially one that doesn’t simply use him for free samples or as a means to sneak into the movies.
So yeah, she likes Dustin. Which is why she doesn’t mind it much when he takes a seat beside her at the edge of the pool on a hot spring day, only to proclaim that he wants her advice on how to woo a boy.
Ha. Woo.
Sadly, Robin might literally be the worst person on the planet to ask about boys. She fumbles her way through a few general pieces of advice, eventually making sure to remind Dustin of exactly how badly qualified she is, but he doesn’t seem to care.
“So, uh, you really like him, huh?” Robin says, giving up on playing adviser and using her toes to poke at one of Dustin’s calves where his feet are submerged in the water. “Anyone I know? You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”
Dustin shakes his head. “I just like spending time with him, I guess,” he explains, apparently not wanting to go into specifics. “More than I do anyone else.”
And Robin gets that. She felt the same way in second grade when Mary Johnson transferred in from Chicago. But then again she sometimes also feels the same way about Steve, not that she’d ever tell him that.
“That doesn’t have to mean you want to date him,” she carefully explains, “or kiss him.” Because the thought of dating or wooing Steve makes her want to laugh. Or barf.
“I know,” Dustin replies with the kind of full conviction that only a teenager can possess, “but I don’t want anyone else to kiss him either, so...”
Robin considers this piece of information as Steve pops out of the house with an armful of snacks. His appearance prompts a lot of shouting and splashing as the kids scramble to get out of the pool, and Dustin watches the commotion, his shoulders hunched. Robin thinks there might be a potential for disaster here; as far as she knows, the only people Steve’s children socialize with are each other – and Steve – and Mike and Lucas already have girlfriends. Unless the boy Dustin’s talking about is Will, Steve might have a mess of a love triangle on his hands.
“Okay, great!” Dustin suddenly says, the little weirdo, startling Robin out of her thoughts. “Thanks for the advice!”
He gets up and runs over to join the rest of the kids harassing Steve for food – like baby ducklings circling around their mama, Robin thinks in amusement – and she’s left to grab her can of Coke and follow.
She wonders if maybe she should give Steve a heads-up about the potential shitstorm that’s headed his way, but as she watches Dustin hold Lucas back so that Steve has space to offload the food onto one of the nearby tables, she hesitates.
From what she knows, Dustin tells Steve everything anyway, so why should this time be any different?
//
Because it’s Steve, that’s why.
Fucking Steve.
Shit, how did Robin miss this?
//
It’s a recipe for disaster, and it might kinda – possibly – be some of Robin’s fault. Just a tiny bit.
Looking back, she can’t remember exactly what she said to Dustin during their brief poolside chat, but she thinks she might have mentioned something about showing appreciation through gifts, because Dustin sure seems to have taken that to heart.
He starts visiting Steve at work, which isn’t a new development, but now he’s bringing little treats with him – cookies, fruit, sandwiches on the days he knows Steve will be busy enough to forget about his lunch break.
The cookies were what first clued Robin in, and Steve’s delighted reaction to the gift must’ve bolstered Dustin’s confidence because he starts popping in to Family Video practically every day.
Robin’s not complaining – not as long as Steve seems happy with the attention, and definitely not as long as he keeps sharing his bounty with her, but—
She knows that Dustin and Steve tend to gravitate towards each other. And that they went through some rough shit even before Robin joined them for their Russian adventure – while Steve’s never said as much, she suspects that Dustin’s probably his favorite... kid, person, whatever. And even though she doesn’t really have a dog in this fight, she’s reluctantly grown fond of both of them, comfortable with her place in the group, and the thought of anything screwing with the status quo is... strangely upsetting.
But it doesn’t feel like her place to butt in. Sure, Dustin came to her for advice, but she’s not really involved, and Steve’s never appreciated her input into his... love life.
So she keeps her mouth shut, even when she stumbles across Dustin pushing a box of grapes towards Steve across the Family Video counter, faux-casually asking if he wants to go to the Fun Fair.
Steve happily agrees, of course, because he and Robin were gonna go anyway, and Robin kind of wants to grab him by the shoulders and give him a shake and yell ’this is a date, you dingus!’ because Dustin’s watching Steve pop grapes into his mouth with far more interest than is socially acceptable, the little creeper.
But she doesn’t speak up, because Steve is completely oblivious to what’s going on, and would probably just laugh and brush her off if she tried to make him see sense.
No, she decides, her time’s probably better spent steeling herself to deal with the inevitable fallout of this mess, because she’s never seen Steve look twice at another boy, at least never in interest. And while he would never be cruel – she still feels a surge of relief when she thinks back to her own confession and the resulting conversation – he might not understand where Dustin’s coming from.
And that’s another thing – Dustin, who’s such an intense kid, a real go-getter, and while he’d never willfully push Steve into something he’d be uncomfortable with, Robin worries that—
She just worries, is all.
And as they all meet up at the fairgrounds and Dustin predictably grabs Steve and pulls him away from the rest of the group as soon as they’ve paid for their tickets, Robin watches her two dinguses go off to attend the Fun Fair and wonders if maybe this is how Cinderella’s fairy godmother felt when her charge left for the ball.
//
Later, once the last of the fireworks have marked the end of the fair, Robin finds herself lingering by the entrance to the fairgrounds, watching people leave.
She thinks she spots Dustin in the distance, pushing his way through the crowd, but then he’s gone, and suddenly Steve appears by her side, looking like he’s in a daze.
Uh oh.
“Hey,” she says. “Have fun?”
“Uh, yeah,” Steve replies, short and succinct as he fiddles with his car keys. “You want a ride?”
“Sure.”
Neither of them mention Dustin as they make their way to Steve’s BMW, or the fact that Steve had been Dustin’s ride earlier that day. The kid’s crafty – Robin assumes he’s catching a ride home from someone else, insightful enough to realize that Steve might need some space.
Of course, if things played out the way Robin suspects, Steve might need something a bit stronger, too.
“Hey, you got any beer at home?” she asks as Steve turns the ignition, and watches the relief spread across his face.
“I like the way you think, Buckley.”
//
The last time Robin had gotten drunk with Steve Harrington – which had actually been the first and so far only time she’s ever gotten drunk with Steve Harrington – had been after their adventure in the secret Russian bunker.
Her parents had picked her up in the parking lot of what had been the still-smoldering ruins of the Starcourt Mall, frantic with worry after she’d failed to return home the day before, and she’d let them fuss over her for a couple of hours, until it was finally late enough that she could convince them to go to bed. Then she’d found a phone book and looked up the number for the only Harrington listed in Hawkins.
Steve had answered almost immediately, and hadn’t been able to hide his disappointment at hearing her voice, like he’d been expecting someone else to call his house in the middle of the night. He’d been quick to recover though, and twenty minutes later he’d been on his way over to pick her up after she’d snuck out of her bedroom window, making sure to leave a note for her parents to find.
They’d spent the rest of the night and the early morning hours drinking in Steve’s backyard, and it had been good. As far as Robin remembers Steve had been a pretty fun drunk, falling into the pool at one point as he tried to re-enact knocking that one Russian soldier out; when Robin had laughed and accidentally ventured too close to the edge, he’d grabbed her and pulled her in with him, and the next morning she’d woken up huddled in a nest of blankets in the bathtub of one of the upstairs bathrooms, with Steve curled up on the floor next to the tub, snoring into the carpet.
It’s a stark difference to the morose mess she’s faced with now.
“I don't know what to do,” Steve whines, looking up at her with those big brown doe-eyes. “Buckley, tell me! Tell me what to do!”
“Alright,” she says as she tries to pry the beer out of his hand, “c’mon, give me that.”
“I love him,” Steve sighs, listing to the side as he lets her have the can.
Robin’s a bit tipsy too, but she hasn’t been desperately slamming back the beers the way Steve has – she still possesses enough coordination to catch him just as he’s about to fall over the edge of the pool and into the water. She manages to wedge herself into the empty space next to him, letting him slump against her shoulder instead as they settle on the pool edge, their bare feet submerged in the water.
“I know,” she says, petting his hair. “I know you love him. You love all the kids, and they love you too, in their… own special way.”
Steve shakes his head, grumbling something unintelligible against her shoulder. “I don't want to kiss him,” he declares loudly.
“That's okay. And if you did want to, that’s okay too.” Steve pulls back to squint at her, and she adds, “Only, maybe, wait until he's sixteen, at least?”
Steve groans and lets his head fall back down. “But he wants me to kiss him!”
“I know.” Robin awkwardly keeps patting at his hair.
“Why didn't you tell me if you knew?!” Steve pulls back to knock his forehead against her shoulder, but judging by the resulting whimper it hurt him more than it did her.
Robin sighs. “And what difference would that have made?”
“A lot,” Steve grumbles, reaching for the beer in her hand.
She lets him have it, if only because he doesn’t appear interested in drinking any more of it, seeming satisfied with simply holding onto the can – a familiar comfort. They sit like that for a while, taking in the night-sounds of the forest bordering Steve’s backyard and the sloshing of the water as they kick their feet, until Steve speaks again.
“I think we’re just gonna be friends. He said that was okay.”
“That’s good,” Robin says.
“Yeah. I just— I don’t want to lose him yet.”
Robin smiles, turning to rest her cheek on the top of Steve’s head. “You’re not gonna lose him, you doofus. Even if you never return his feelings. Dustin’s crazy about you.”
Steve snorts. “Not, like, now. But he’s— he’s so smart. He’s gonna forget all about me when he leaves for college.”
“Steve—”
“He will! He’ll forget me, and then it won’t matter that I can’t— can’t feel that way. Because he’ll be over there – away – and I’ll still be here.”
“He’ll probably try to pack you along with the rest of his stuff if he ever leaves town,” Robin jokes, even though she’s kinda half serious, but Steve just shakes his head.
“He’s gonna be so great,” he says, pushing himself upright. He sways a bit, but rights himself before Robin feels the need to reach out. “He doesn’t need me slowing him down.”
Robin frowns. “Hey, don’t say that.”
“I just mean— He shouldn’t feel like he has to stay. Not if he’s, you know—”
“Completely head over heels in love with you?”
Steve flinches. “Shut up.”
“Hey,” Robin says, grinning as she nudges him in the side with her elbow. “I tell it like I see it.”
“He deserves better than Hawkins.” Steve says it like it’s a known fact, which might not be too far off in his own mind. “I’m never gonna get out of here, not unless I start working for my dad. And I won’t be one of those— those stones around Dustin’s neck.”
“A millstone? Shit, Steve. Like he’d ever think that.”
“Might soon enough.” Steve takes a sip of the beer, grimacing at what must by now be a flat, lukewarm taste. “Especially if he feels like he’s gotta stay ’cause of me.”
Robin sighs, but Steve turns to look at her, his expression uncannily sincere. “He’s gonna be so great, Robin. I just don’t wanna screw that up for him.”
“You’re such a shithead, Steve. And you wouldn’t, just for the record.”
Steve laughs, leaning back to look up at the sky and the few stars still visible in the soft pink-orange light of the breaking dawn.
“I love you too, Buckley,” he says.
There’s a pause as they both grow quiet, squinting against the stark silhouette of the trees against the rising sun, but then Robin can’t help herself – she has to ask.
“...So, uh, what exactly does your dad do?”
//
Steve’s acting weird.
Robin knew this even before Dustin told her as much, because she’s known Steve long enough and is by now observant enough to know what is normal Steve-behavior and what isn’t.
He’s grown a bit quiet and perhaps a bit introspective in the weeks following their talk, though Robin thinks that’s fair considering the circumstances. But from what she can tell he’s also become less tactile around Dustin, which is a bit out of character.
Steve shows affection through touch, though it’s usually only Dustin and Robin who let him get away with it, and even then most of it seems to be aimed at Dustin. It’s small things, like leaning in close to brush their shoulders together when they’re talking; or ruffling Dustin’s hair whenever the kid does something Steve finds amusing, though he more often than not tries to follow it up by attempting to coax the curls into something resembling a hairstyle before Dustin has the chance to swat Steve’s hands away. Lately, when they walk, Steve’s taken to resting his arm or hand on Dustin’s shoulder, keeping them in step with each other now that’s Dustin’s tall enough not to have to jog to keep up with Steve’s strides.
It’s all very codependent, and the fact that Steve no longer seems to do it – seems to catch himself before he does it, and then makes himself back off – is a bit concerning.
So no, Robin doesn’t need someone to tell her that Steve’s being more of a weirdo than normal, but she figures that it’s always good to have input from another party. Even if said party is in love with Steve and biased to the core.
That’s why, when Dustin stops by Family Video looking for Steve, and Steve doesn’t even bother to pop out of the back room to go through the ritual of their stupidly complicated handshake, Robin decides that enough is enough. Apparently these two dinguses are still in need of her special kind of magic.
And to his credit, Dustin looks pretty devastated when he learns in which direction Steve’s thoughts have been going.
“He thinks I’m gonna leave him behind?!”
Steve might have told Robin this in confidence, but she doesn’t feel too bad about spilling the beans because if her suspicions are right—
“I was planning on asking him. To come with me, I mean,” Dustin says, face turning an interesting shade of pink.
And there it is. It’s kinda cute how utterly besotted the kid is.
Robin smiles. “I think that's a really good idea,” she says. And then, because she’s feeling generous, and is thinking of Steve, sitting in the back and hiding from Dustin behind a pile of tapes in need of rewinding, she adds, “Do you want me to talk to him?”
“Okay,” Dustin says, with the air of someone who’s desperate and grateful but still expecting the worst. “Yeah, do it.”
//
“So,” Robin says, poking her head into the back room once Dustin’s left, “how much of that did you hear?’
Steve shakes his head, which isn’t really an answer. He’s fiddling with the VHS tape in his hands, turning it this way and that, as Robin plops down on the floor next to him.
“Hey,” she says, reaching out to poke at his knee, “why are you being all weird? Talk to me.”
Steve licks his lips. “I’ve been thinking,” he says, slowly, like he’s choosing his words very carefully. “You and Dustin are pretty much the only people I hang out with nowadays, not counting the other shitheads. And you’re starting your college thing next month, so you won’t be around as much. And Dustin’s gonna be busy with school now that he’s a sophomore. So maybe it’s best if I got used to not having you guys around.”
Robin waits for him to continue, but Steve stays silent, resolutely staring down at the tape in his hands.
“Really,” she says, squinting at him. “You expect me to believe— what? That you’re practicing being lonely for when Dustin eventually leaves for college? Which won’t happen for another three years at least? Because let’s be honest, this has nothing to do with me cutting down on my hours.”
Steve glances at her. “He’s gonna get new friends once he gets older,” he says, “and he’s gonna grow tired of me. I think I should probably back off now, while I still can.”
“You’re an idiot, Steve.” Robin rubs a hand over her face. “You can’t just... quit a friendship based solely on what might happen to it in the future. You think he’s just gonna move on from you? Did you hear anything of what he said out there? He wants to fucking take you with him when he leaves for college!”
“He says that now, but—”
“No, no buts. That kid is dead set on dragging you along with him wherever he goes, trust me.” Robin frowns. “It’s cute, but also a bit concerning, to be honest.”
“He’ll change his mind later.”
“Doubtful, but okay.” Robin contemplates Steve, who’s still messing around with the tape. He won’t look her in the eye, which is definitely giving her an inkling that something else is going on. “And that’s all it is? You’re not bothered by what he, uh, told you?”
“No!” Steve’s knuckles turn white, he’s suddenly gripping the tape so hard. “I’m okay with that. That’s fine. Dustin just— he doesn’t know what he wants. He’s fifteen, and I’m the guy who drives him places and gives him spare change for the arcade.”
Robin scoffs. “I’m sorry, but it’s not like you and Nancy weren't all up in each other’s business when she was a Junior. And I know this for a fact because I had a disgusting front row seat to that particular freak show every day at school – thanks for that, by the way. But I guess she was too young to know what she was doing, huh?”
“S’not the same,” Steve mutters, pushing his bangs out of his eyes. “She was sixteen, and I was still in school, too. I wasn’t in my twenties, and I wasn’t messing around with a kid.”
“Please, you turned twenty literally two months ago. And Dustin’s going on sixteen, so he’d probably resent for you calling him a child.”
Steve shoots her a glare. “Why do you even care?”
“Because I’m your fucking fairy godmother, Steve!” Robin snaps before she can help herself.
Thankfully, Steve just looks confused. “My—”
“Never mind! So tell me what exactly the problem is. You say you’re alright with his feelings, but you’ve had like a month to process things and you’re still acting like a weirdo. What’s up?”
Steve shakes his head. “What does it matter? Everything’s fucked. Dustin wants to date me, and I don’t—”
He goes quiet, sucking in a deep breath, and the look on his face is pinched – kind of pained.
“You don’t...?” Robin prompts.
“—I don’t want to disappoint him,” Steve admits, wiping at his nose with the back of his hand.
Which is— so ridiculous that Robin can’t help but laugh.
“Dustin’s head over heels in love with you, Steve. You wouldn’t be able to disappoint him even if you tried. Or even if you don’t love him exactly like he wants you to.” She ducks her head to peer at him, trying to catch his eye. “You get that right? He doesn’t blame you for not returning his feelings – he probably never expected you to. He just wants to have you around.”
“I want that too!” Steve blurts out. “To have him around, I mean.”
“So that’s good, right?” Robin tries. “You both love each other, even if it’s in different ways.”
Steve shakes his head. “I just don’t want him to feel uncomfortable around me. Like he’s done something wrong. And I don’t want him to— to overthink this, because he does that sometimes – he thinks a lot and gets stuck on things.”
“Okay, that’s fine. I get that. Is that what you feel like you’re doing? Overthinking stuff?”
“I don’t know. I’ve been trying to figure out if maybe I—” Steve hesitates, and then tosses the tape to the side and starts picking at his cuticles instead. “Maybe I did something or said something to make him feel this way. Maybe, y’know, these feelings are on me.”
“Steve...”
“Because if they are, and I’m... making him feel them, then he doesn’t love me like that on his own. And if I back off he should stop doing it, because then I won’t be encouraging it or— or be around to do that thing that makes him feel this way anymore.”
Robin reaches out to grab his right wrist before he starts to draw blood.
“That,” she says, gently, “is not how it works. You know that, right?” When Steve just shrugs, Robin gives his wrist a little shake. “And even if it was, since when have you been able to make Dustin do or believe anything? He’s as stubborn as they come.”
Steve does that thing with his face that he does whenever someone mentions Dustin’s stubbornness or complains about his habit of bluntly proclaiming whatever’s on his mind; his expression softens, and he looks both fond and amused at the same time. It’s a look Robin’s started to notice Steve sporting more and more frequently over the past year.
“Besides,” she continues, “he probably knows you better than anyone else does. You didn’t have to be anything but yourself for him to fall in love with you, because for some reason I can’t even begin to imagine he’s seen everything there is to see and still wants to keep you around, forever.”
“I do too,” Steve says, in a hushed tone. “But I want him to stick around because he wants to. That’s why I need to be sure.”
“So it’s a... test?” Robin frowns.
“No! It’s not— I just need to be sure. It’s important. I need to know that these feelings won’t go away, because if they do it could ruin everything.”
Robin sighs. “You know he'd chase you to the end of the world if he had to. He's not gonna fall out of love with you just because you avoid him.”
Steve shakes his head, giving her a forlorn look. “That’s not—”
“What?”
“Robin,” he says, as if she's being deliberately obtuse.
It's like they're back on the disgusting floor of that restroom stall, only this time they're both devastatingly sober.
“Oh,” Robin says, and then, “holy shit.”
Steve laughs, and it's a flat, miserable sound. Robin reaches out to place a hand on his shoulder, and she can feel a fine tremble run through him as he leans into her touch.
“It's bullshit,” he chokes out.
“Yeah,” Robin says, because who's she to argue with that?
//
Unsurprisingly, things between Dustin and Steve start going downhill fast, and Robin finds herself an unwilling passenger on a very frustrating ride.
Because, once she’s managed to digest what Steve sprung on her out of absolutely fucking nowhere – once she has had some time to think about it – she starts to suspect that he’s never known the sweet agony of pining after someone seemingly unattainable before. At least not long-term, the way Robin had done during those many months spent gazing at Tammy Thompson from afar.
It’s not something they talk about often, but Robin knows that there had been Nancy, once; she’d seen the two of them interact first hand at school, had heard the gossip no matter how much she tried to ignore it – how, once Steve had decided he wanted Nancy Wheeler, he’d pursued her, romanced her, and then dated her, never shy or unsure about securing her affections, and never hesitant in approaching her.
And it had ended in heartbreak, sure, with Nancy suddenly dating Jonathan Byers instead, but what had lingered – Robin doesn’t think that had been a pining love. It had been something else, something darker and more complicated – something that still makes a shadow pass over Steve’s face sometimes when Nancy’s name is mentioned, like he’s hiding an open wound still left raw after all this time.
(She doesn’t like to think about the in between, where there might also have been Robin herself, for a hot minute – she nipped that in the bud at an early stage, and the smiles Steve throws her way these days are guileless and carefree, utterly platonic, so she tells herself that it doesn’t count.)
Point is, somewhere in all of this, Robin’s sure she could find an explanation for why Steve’s acting like he is – why he’s completely losing what little sense he has left and cutting off all contact with Dustin, running as far away from the kid as he can. But she can’t quite understand exactly what Steve thinks he’s going to accomplish by doing so, because Dustin definitely isn’t one to take this sitting down.
Case in point, it’s Thursday afternoon – one of those slow mid-week days where Robin and Steve spend most of their time playing hangman to stave off the boredom – and when the door is forcefully pulled open at ten past four, letting in a gust of cold air that sweeps through the shop and sends a shiver down Robin’s spine, the list of potential visitors is a pretty short one.
“Incoming,” Robin hisses, and Steve drops like a stone, making it with about two seconds to spare before Dustin bounds over to the counter.
“Is he here?”
“Nope,” Robin says, leaning forward and propping her chin up with one hand.
Dustin scowls. “I know he's here,” he says, and Robin rolls her eyes, feeling Steve cower against her leg as Dustin leans over the counter to yell, “I know you're here, dipshit!” towards the back of the store.
“Alright, alright,” Robin snaps, pushing him back down. “Don't upset my customers.”
Dustin raises his eyebrows and spreads his arms, as if to say ’what customers?’ and yeah, the store’s deserted, but it's the principle that counts.
“Just shush, okay?” Robin says.
“Don’t tell me what to do!” Dustin glares at her, and the look in his eyes is pretty intense for a fifteen year old. “What did you say to him?!”
“Look, I know that Dingus is probably being a dingus at the moment,” Robin says, discreetly kicking out at Steve when he pinches her ankle, “but whatever he’s done, he came up with this idea all on his own. As dinguses do.”
Dustin looks disgusted. “Fine,” he says, and then his face does this complex thing where he goes from determined to heartbroken in less than a second; it’s like his whole body suddenly deflates, shoulders dropping as he lets out a deep sigh. “Just… could you tell him to stop being a dick and talk to me?”
“Sure,” Robin says, watching Dustin shake his head and turn to leave. She waits until the door swings closed behind him before she glances down at Steve. “Coast is clear. And stop being a dick to your children, dick.”
Steve groans, throwing his head back and knocking it against one of the shelves built into the counter. “Stop calling them my children! Stop calling Dustin my child!”
“Fine,” Robin hisses, crouching down to poke at his knee. “But he's right. You need to talk this out. You're both miserable and you're making everyone else miserable too!”
“Mike’s probably happy I’m not around,” Steve mutters, and Robin tries her best not to hit him.
“Well, good for Mike! I wish I was Mike, because then I wouldn't have a front row seat to the train wreck that is your love life!”
Steve flushes red and pushes himself up off the floor, stalking away in a huff, and Robin barely has time to sigh and roll her eyes, because in the next moment he’s back, popping out from behind the romantic comedy display.
“Actually, you know what?” Steve snaps. “You need to mind your own business!”
“Oh, I’m sorry! I’ll make sure to do that the next time Dustin drops by looking for you. I mean, I can’t cover for you when it’s none of my business!”
Steve looks poised to retort, but Robin’s honestly kind of sick of it. She might not really know what changed in between Steve freaking out over Dustin being in love with him one moment, and then freaking out over maybe returning those feelings the next – of somehow brainwashing Dustin into feeling his feelings in the first place – but that certainly doesn’t stop her from having an opinion on the matter, or voicing it as loudly as she can.
“You want to know what I think, Steve?” she says, poking a finger at his chest. “I think you’re an idiot! Of all the idiots to ever idiot, you are the biggest idiot of them all. All the other idiots in Idiotsville look up to you, their head idiot. They hold idiot parades in your honor every Idiot Day, celebrating you, idiot extraordinaire, and the idiocy you inspire in them, your idiot disciples!”
“Well, you—” Steve sputters, and Robin raises her chin and waits for him to get back at her, but he just turns away, groaning and rubbing his hands across his face. “I can’t— Look, you know that thing people say? About keeping your distance?”
“‘Absence makes the heart grow fonder’?” Robin helpfully suggests.
Steve turns to glare at her. “No! The other one, the one that means the opposite of what you just said!”
Robin throws her hands up on the air. “I don’t know, Steve! I honestly have no idea what your end goal is here. You wanted to make sure it wasn’t just puppy love or— or something brought on by your feelings, however that would work? Well, congratu-fuckin’-lations! He’s still coming around!”
She’s aware that she might be on the verge of shouting, because Steve pulls in a deep breath like he’s preparing to out-do her, only the door swings open again, and Steve ducks behind the counter due to what by now might be some kind of Pavlovian response.
Robin turns to face the little old lady who’s just entered and plasters on her best customer service smile. “Hello! Welcome to Family Video! Just let me know if you need any help!”
The lady ignores her, slowly waddling towards the horror section, and Robin waits until she’s out of sight behind the shelves before crouching down behind the counter. Steve blinks at her, wide-eyed, fingers tangled in his hair.
“Did I fuck up?” he whispers. “I feel like I fucked everything up. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He wasn’t supposed to— to keep showing up, like he wants to see me.”
Robin sighs and takes a seat on the floor beside him, drawing her knees up and folding her arms around her legs. “Okay,” she says. “Let’s agree that we’ve established that Dustin one hundred percent in love with you, completely under his own power with no outside influence, like I already told you. And let’s also agree that you feel the same way. Now, what do you want?”
Steve swallows hard. “I don’t—”
“Don’t give me that! What do you want?”
He’s quiet for a long moment, seconds ticking by so slowly that Robin’s starting to think that he’s going to refuse to answer.
“I want to be his first choice,” Steve suddenly blurts out, wide-eyed like he can’t believe he actually said it.
“Okay.” Robin considers this before she answers. “From what I can tell,” she eventually says, slowly, because it feels like it’s important that Steve gets it into his thick skull, “you’ve been his first choice for a while now.”
“Yeah?” Steve doesn’t seem entirely convinced, but he looks— tentatively hopeful, in a way.
“Uh, yeah. It’s been less than two weeks, and you’re both fucking miserable without each other.” When Steve frowns, she adds, “So talk to him.”
“You think I should?”
“No, Steve. I said it because I like hearing the sound of my own voice.”
“It is pretty funny sounding,” Steve agrees, and Robin socks him in the shoulder.
Steve just throws her a shaky grin, and Robin can’t help but smile back because fuck, this is her best friend, this dumbass right there, and even though she has no idea how it happened, she’s glad it did.
//
Once Steve pulls his head out of his ass and apologizes to Dustin, or whatever it is he does – he won’t tell her what happened, which Robin takes to mean that they probably didn’t talk it out at all, like the stupid boys they are – things start to improve, if you can call it that.
She can’t decide whether she finds it funny or sad, the way the two of them are trying so hard to pick up where they left off, like Dustin never laid his big secret out for Steve to see. In the end Robin decides that it’s just awkward and kinda painful, watching them try to get back to normal – Steve giving Dustin rides around town again, and Dustin dropping by Family Video after school just to hang out – and she lasts longer than she thought she would, into early November, before she just can’t take it anymore.
“For fuck’s sake, the two of you are driving me crazy! You have to talk to him! Properly this time!”
“I can’t just— talk to Dustin about this!” Steve hisses.
They’re sitting in Steve’s car in the grocery store parking lot, fresh off of work, because Robin promised her mom she’d pick up chicken for dinner, and since it’s raining, she talked Steve into giving her a ride.
“I gotta be careful,” Steve continues, and in the dark Robin can barely make out the way he’s flexing his hands around the steering wheel. “I messed it up the first time around, so I gotta be— careful. I can’t bring this up to him now.”
“Steve…”
“No. Everything was good, and then I screwed it up. I should have—”
“Told him you were in love with him too? Even if you weren’t?”
“But I am,” Steve groans, leaning forward to rest his forehead on the steering wheel. “And maybe I was, too. I don’t know!”
Robin sighs. “Right. So tell him.”
Steve groans again, a miserable sound that sounds impressively heartfelt.
“Look,” Robin says. “You don’t want to rock the boat, right? I get it. The thing is, the boat is— leaking. And the only thing that can plug the hole is, uh, the love you and Dustin share.”
“I hate you so much,” Steve mutters.
“In my defense I just got off an eight hour shift. But you get it, right? Why things are so awkward? Because I’ll tell you,” Robin says, counting off on her fingers. “Dustin’s in love with you, and you know this. Dustin also knows that you know that he’s in love with you, and you know that Dustin knows you know he’s in love with you, but—” she points a finger at Steve. “—what Dustin doesn’t know is that you’re in love with him, too.”
Steve blinks at her. “Wow, Robin,” he says. “You sure are helpful.”
“Steve. You have to tell him.”
“He’s fucking fifteen!” Steve snaps.
“I’m not saying you should drag him to bed with you, Steve! Fuck! Just… lay all your cards out on the table. Let him know where you’re coming from. That way you can both make informed decisions on how to handle this, like the mature people you claim to be. Because right now? You’re the only one who really knows why things are so damn awkward. Dustin probably thinks it’s his fault.”
Steve snorts. “What, like I know what’s going on in his head? Besides, I kinda ruined things," he sighs. “It’s not gonna be the same now.”
“No,” Robin agrees. “It’s gonna be different. And once you tell him, it’s gonna be better. Probably.”
“Yeah?” Steve turns to peer at her through the dark. “When did you start believing in happy endings, Buckley?”
“In this case,” Robin says, “I’d say having hope is kinda my duty as your fairy godmother.”
Steve blinks at her. “What?”
“You’ll see – I’ve accepted my fate. Now where’s your umbrella? I need to buy some fucking chicken.”
//
The thing about Steve is that most of the time he’s a spontaneous idiot. But sometimes, as Robin has discovered, he really likes to drag his feet.
She’s learned to be patient in those moments when he prefers to take his time – to take a step back once she plants the seed in his mind and let him have some time to decide what he wants to do.
So, Robin waits.
And waits.
And waits, all through November and well into December.
Which, she swears – if she has to hear Bryan Adams croon about Christmas one more time, she won’t be held responsible for her actions. She’s already tried to switch the tape for something less grating on the ears, but Keith’s locked himself in the manager’s office, and since that's where the player that controls Family Video’s sound system is located, all she can do at the moment is grit her teeth and bear it.
Steve doesn’t seem to mind, though. In fact, Steve’s been unusually quiet the whole day – biting his lip and staring into space, running his hands through his hair – and by two o’clock Robin can’t stand it any longer. She takes a break from sorting the returned VHS tapes and joins Steve at the counter, knocking her shoulder against his.
“What’s up?” she asks.
Steve shakes his head. “It’s nothing.”
“C’mon, what’s the point of having a fairy godmother if you don’t tell her anything?”
Steve makes a face, but then hesitates. It’s not until Robin nudges him again that he speaks.
“Remember after the Fun Fair? When Dustin— uh, told me? That time we talked, and you said I should wait until he was sixteen?”
Ah. Out of all things for him to remember through his drunken haze.
“His birthday’s in two weeks,” Steve says.
“Well. It’s about time.” Robin squints at him. “Just— don’t do anything stupid.”
Steve smiles faintly. “I have it on good authority that stupid’s my middle name,” he says, but she can tell it's nothing but false bravado.
“True. Here’s to the luck of fools, huh?” She mimes raising a drink in a salute, and Steve rolls his eyes but indulges her by clinking his imaginary glass with hers. “So, what’s the plan?”
He shakes his head. “No plan.”
“Winging it.” Robin considers this. “Solid strategy. I like it.”
“No, I—” Steve bites his lip. “I’m not even sure he’s interested anymore. It’s been, like, six months.”
Robin groans. “Not this again. If Dustin could kill people with his mind Cindy Roarke would be nothing but a cheap stain on our carpet right about now.” Steve looks confused, so she adds, “Last week, when he was waiting for you to get off your shift? And she came in to return Raiders and – ugh – told you that you have better hair than Harrison Ford?”
“Okay, first off, that’s a true fact. And B, what does that have to do with anything? Maybe Dustin just doesn’t like Cindy Roarke.”
“Seriously? For what reason, Steve? He’s a teenage boy – even if he wasn’t stupidly in love with you, what reason could he possibly have for not liking Cindy Roarke? She’s a babe!”
“I don’t know! Maybe she— she forced him off the road!”
“Are you for real?”
“It’s December; it’s dark out there. I almost hit a raccoon yesterday.”
Robin throws up her hands. “I can’t believe we’re doing this. Fine, you’re right. Cindy Roarke tried to run Dustin over and that’s why he hates her.”
“Well, you don’t know!”
“I know that teenage girls usually don’t try to flatten high school boys with their cars, that’s what I know!”
“Maybe it was an accident!”
“Steve, if you don’t shut up, I swear to God—”
//
Later, once they’ve both cooled off a bit, Steve comes to find her as she’s shelving the last of the rentals from the weekend.
“I don’t think I’m gonna say anything,” he says, plopping down on the floor beside her and picking up the conversation from where they left off before the argument, because that’s how the two of them work. “I won’t bring it up unless he does.”
Robin hums, tapping a copy of Better Off Dead against her chin. “A bit risky,” she decides. “He’s already spilled everything to you once, and that didn’t go so well. He might not do it again.”
Steve looks amused. “It’s Dustin. If he has an opinion, you’ll be sure to hear it.”
“Fine, you got me there,” Robin concedes. “So what are the birthday plans?”
Steve spends a good five minutes rambling on about the party they’re having on the 10th, the day after Dustin’s actual birthday, because apparently the location is still to be determined and Dustin’s hounding Steve to have it at his place, but Steve’s already agreed to host a New Year’s thing – Robin can already see that he’s on the verge of caving, no matter how much he protests – and then his eyes widen.
“You’re, uh, invited too—” he stutters, and Robin just laughs.
“Duh, dickface. Mrs. Henderson needs someone to help her supervise all you walking accidents waiting to happen. What I meant was, what are you and Dustin gonna do on his actual birthday?”
Steve does that thing with his face again, that fond-Dustin-face. “I think he’s gonna ask me to take him out for milkshakes.”
“So? Thought you liked milkshakes?”
“Well, yeah. When the weather isn’t as cold as the armpit of Mongolia.”
“That makes no sense, but alright,” Robin says, and then, careful to keep her voice light and teasing, she adds, “Good thing you love him, then.”
Steve exhales slowly. “Yeah,” he says, and then clears his throat and looks away.
“Anyway,” Robin says, “just so you know I’ll be expecting a status update as soon as you get get back from your not-date.”
Steve rolls his eyes. “Yes, mother.”
“Fairy godmother, thank you very much.”
//
The holidays come and go, and before Robin knows it they’re officially into January and 1987.
Steve seems nervous when he leaves to pick Dustin up after work on the big day, and Robin doesn’t really know what she’s expecting, but absolute radio silence for the rest of the evening is probably not it.
She curls up in the recliner in the living room, totally not because it’s close to the phone in the kitchen, but because the chair’s really comfortable and there’s this book on Russian military history that she’s been meaning to read – never hurts to be prepared, just in case – and her parents are also watching a pretty interesting documentary about the Battle of Midway.
Predictably, after several minutes of trying to focus, she ends up with the book in her lap, staring at nothing as she pictures the myriad of ways that things can have gone horribly wrong; ranging from Steve leaving Family Video and simply keeping on driving – past Dustin’s house, across Hawkins’ city limits, heading straight for the Indiana state line – to, laughably, Dustin turning Steve down and the dingus spending the rest of the evening crying softly into his melting milkshake.
Fuck, she thinks, this is ridiculous.
“Robin, honey? Is everything alright?”
She jerks, turning to discover her parents watching her from the couch, concerned expressions on their faces.
“Oh! Yeah, I’m fine.” She lifts her book. “Kinda, uh, dry reading.”
Robin’s dad laughs and her mom shakes her head, and Robin turns her attention back to her reading. She makes it about two and a half pages before she realizes that she’s picturing Peter II as having Steve’s face, which makes no sense since the guy was, like, twelve.
Swear to God, she’s gonna kill him for making her actually worry.
//
On the morning of January 10th, Robin finds herself possibly the first person in the history of customer service workers to ever almost anticipate their Saturday shift.
She shows up fifteen minutes early, buzzing with a strange energy of expectation, which then quickly fizzles out when the clock strikes ten and Steve’s nowhere to be seen.
By the time he bothers showing up – ten minutes late – Robin’s already managed to run through all worst-case scenarios twice in her head – again – and concluded that she’s far too invested in her friends’ private lives.
Then Steve walks in, and all her attention is refocused because he’s wearing a soft, cream colored knitted turtleneck sweater. It’s not completely out of the ordinary – the lateness or the sweater – but he’s also sporting a pretty nasty looking hickey on the hinge of his jaw, with another one just about peeking out from beneath the neck of the sweater.
It makes Robin think of the documentary she watched with her dad the other day, the one about the Atlantic Ocean, where the whales all had remoras attached to them, because that’s what Steve looks like – like he went thirty rounds with a whalesucker and come out on the losing end.
And then, because it’s Saturday morning and Robin’s feeling all fizzled out – definitely not all there yet, and slow on the uptake – she spends a split moment feeling kinda sad for Dustin's sake.
Steve, however, won't meet her eyes, and that's pretty out of character. Robin’s watched him swagger down the hallways of Hawkins High marked up worse than this on more than one occasion. She can't imagine what would make him—
Oh. Oh.
She barks a laugh, delighted, and abandons the counter to trail after Steve as he heads for the back room to put his jacket away.
“Steve, what did you do? Or better yet, what did you let Dustin do?!”
And yeah, Steve’s face flushes what must be six different shades of red before it settles on a soft pink.
“Shut up,” he hisses, but his heart isn't in it, and Robin's grin grows even wider.
“C’mere, show me,” she says, making as if to tug his collar down, and Steve slaps her hands away and darts around her like they're on a basketball court, deftly escaping back out into the store.
Robin follows, leaning against the counter again as Steve heads for one of the movie posters lining the walls.
“I'm gonna kill him,” he says, squinting at his reflection in the mirrored frame and visibly wincing as he presses his fingertips against the mark behind his ear.
“Shut up, like you didn’t love it. And I swear to God, I haven't spent all this time working my magic and suffering through the two of you pining after each other just so that you can ruin my good work.”
Steve tugs down the collar of the turtleneck, his frown deepening as he takes in the marks that run all the way down to his shoulder, as far as Robin can tell.
“Besides,” she says, “he'll probably turn into a vengeful, lovesick spirit who won't stop haunting us until I finally snap and send you to join him.”
“Then we’ll team up and haunt you together,” Steve mutters, turning away from the mirror. He seems to have accepted his hickeyed fate.
Robin snorts. “Like you’d stop making out long enough to do that.”
Steve looks thoughtful. “Do ghosts even have lips?”
“You better hope so, or your afterlife’s gonna be pretty boring.” Robin points a thumb over her shoulder. “There’s a funky smell over by the Top Ten, by the way. And since I cleaned up that kid’s ice cream on Thursday, you get to check it out, lover boy!”
Steve makes a face but goes, and Robin makes herself comfortable by the counter, trying to appear busy. She finds that she suddenly feels rather optimistic about life in general.
//
Dustin saunters in around two hours later, grinning like the cat who got the cream, ate the canary, and then watched the dog get kicked out of the house.
“Is he here?” he asks as soon as he spots Robin. “Steve. Is he here?”
“Oh, that’s who you want to see? What am I, chopped liver?”
“Don’t worry,” Dustin assures her, with what sounds like the utmost sincerity, “you’ll always be my Jedi Master.”
“Thanks, I guess.” Robin wrinkles her nose. “Steve’s in the stacks somewhere. Try the drama section. And happy birthday!” she calls after Dustin as he hurries off like a man on a mission.
Robin sighs as she watches him go; she’s suddenly got a feeling that Steve’s not going to be of any help whatsoever today. She makes herself count to a hundred before she leaves the counter to follow in Dustin’s wake, and sure enough, he’s got Steve crowded up against one of the shelves, hands creeping up under Steve’s sweater as they kiss.
Thinking about it in theory and watching the two of them actually make out are two vastly different things, Robin discovers. She’s not gonna lie – it’s a bit weird, not because they’re guys, but because they’re Dustin and Steve, who are basically brothers but not actually brothers, and yeah, Robin’s gonna need a moment to get used to this.
Steve makes a soft noise into Dustin’s mouth, almost like a sigh, hand coming up to cup Dustin’s jaw, and when Dustin responds by pressing closer, the shelf rattling as Steve’s forced to lean more of his weight on it, Robin decides that this is a pretty good time to clear her throat.
Loudly.
Steve and Dustin spring apart at the sound, wide-eyed and flushed, but then seem to relax when they realize it’s only Robin.
“Uh,” Steve tells Robin, “hi?” as Dustin seizes the opportunity to step forward and mold himself against Steve’s body again while Steve’s distracted.
“It might not look it, but this is an actual place of employment, y’know,” Robin informs them both, crossing her arms over her chest. “Which means it’s totally unfair for you to spend all day making out with your boyfriend when I’m sad and single.”
Dustin, the little shit, looks smug as he wraps his arms around Steve again. “Sorry,” he says, sounding anything but.
“Yeah, yeah.” Robin rolls her eyes. “Just let Steve get back to work.”
Steve groans, but Dustin leans in to give him a quick kiss, effectively quieting him. “Mom wants you to keep me away from the house while she decorates for the party,” he tells Steve once he pulls away. “Wanna go see a movie later?”
It makes Steve smile, looking happy and smitten, and the expression on his face is soft in a way that seems almost foreign to him. Robin has seen him happy before, but this is— contentment, she thinks, and she knows that Steve loves all his idiot kids, and Dustin especially, but maybe she hasn’t realized just how deep these feelings actually run in this particular case.
“But not Platoon again!” Dustin is saying, giving Steve a look that tells Robin that they’ve had this discussion before.
“Fine,” Steve says, running his fingers through Dustin’s hair, like he’s trying to tame the curls into some kind of structured style. “Three Amigos okay?”
Dustin nods and bends to pick his hat off the floor, since apparently it got knocked off in the excitement of their reunion. Robin rolls her eyes, because can you say cliché.
“I’ll stick around after the party,” Dustin tells Steve, hands automatically finding their way back to Steve’s sides once the hat’s been recovered.
Steve smirks, somehow managing to look confident and in control even when he’s crowded up against the shelf, basically being groped. ”Yeah?” he says, dipping his head so that he can brush his lips against Dustin’s, the move almost as smooth as those of King Steve of old.
“Yeah,” Dustin breathes, voice dipping into a lower timbre, before he adds, “I can help you clean up,” and oh god, Robin thinks, he’s flirting – if there was something she never needed to hear...
“Okay, that’s enough! You—!” She points at Dustin. “First off, you don’t have to sweet-talk Steve – he’s a sure thing. Secondly, get out of here before I break out the spray bottle!”
Dustin glowers at her but Steve just laughs. “You saying I’m easy, Buckley?”
“If the shoe fits,” she throws back at him, but decides to keep it at that. Mostly because Dustin looks like he’s gearing up to defend Steve’s honor, which, admittedly – it might be fun to hear what argument he can possibly make, considering the state of Steve’s neck...
Steve must sense it too, because he touches his forehead to Dustin’s temple, effectively diverting Dustin’s attention away from Robin. “Hey, I get off at two,” he murmurs. “We’ll go see the movie before the party, yeah?”
Dustin nods, turning his head to steal a quick kiss. “Two o’clock,” he says, and thankfully doesn’t put up much of a fight when Robin grabs his shoulders and pulls him away from Steve, practically marching him to the front of the store and out of Family Video. Dustin rolls his eyes and heads towards the arcade, probably aiming to while away the time there until Steve is ready to leave.
“So,” Robin says, heading back inside once she’s sure Dustin’s gone, to find Steve leaning against the counter and trying to tug his collar back up to cover the hickeys. “Is this my new reality now? To do most of the work while you and Dustin explore each others’ tonsils?”
“I think he’s had his removed,” Steve says. “And did you forget this morning, when I cleaned out that stinking sandwich some dipshit had stuffed behind Heathcliff: The Movie?”
Robin wrinkles her nose. “Did you really have to stick that thing in my face to show me?”
“Uh, yeah,” Steve says, like it’s obvious. Ugh, boys are idiots.
“Anyway,” Robin says, hands on her hips, “despite the disappointing lack of status updates from last night – though in hindsight I probably don’t want to know – I guess we can all agree on one thing, which is that I am one fucking fantastic fairy godmother.”
“You still going with that?” Steve makes a face. “It sounds weird. Dustin calls you his Jedi Master, right? That’s a lot cooler.”
“Okay, yes, I can agree with that. Point to you, or Dustin, or whatever,” Robin says, rounding the counter. “Magic’s magic, though. The Force is, like, something completely different. You can’t use the Force to conjure up a pumpkin carriage or turn mice into horses.”
“Why would Jedis need a pumpkin anything? They have spaceships.”
Robin groans. “That’s not the point I’m trying to make, Steve! I’m saying that if I gotta choose between the Force and magic—” she points a finger at him when he opens his mouth to interrupt “—and don’t you dare say that the Force is magic – ‘cause it’s not – then I would probably choose magic.”
“But fairy godmother? They’re so... old. You want to be a wrinkly old lady for the rest of your life?”
“Yeah, like Yoda was such a spring chicken.”
Steve just blinks at her.
“Steve,” Robin says slowly, with a dawning sense of horror-filled realization. “You do know Yoda’s a Jedi Master, right?
“Well—” Steve falters. “He doesn’t have a lightsaber!”
“Steve! I’ve made you watch the entire trilogy twice! I don’t know how many times you must’ve watched it with Dustin! How do you not know that Yoda’s a fucking Jedi?!”
“Did they bring it up when they were in the swamp? Because that part’s pretty boring – I usually tune out.”
“What—? No! It’s when Obi-Wan comes to Luke as a vision on Hoth. He literally mentions Yoda as the Jedi Master who instructed him,” Robin sputters. “That’s the whole reason why he sends Luke to the Dagobah system in the first place!”
“Oh, I’m so sorry that I don’t remember all the— the intricacies of—”
“Intricacies?! It’s a major plot point, Steve!”
“You know what? Hoth – was that the ice planet?” Steve tilts his head in that obnoxious manner that he knows she hates. “Because that was boring too. Not enough teddy bears.”
“They’re called Ewoks – which I know you know, so now you’re just trying to annoy me—”
“Is it working?”
“Yes!” Robin socks him in the arm. “It’s working!”
Steve grins at her, and Robin sighs in defeat, leaning against the counter and bumping her shoulder against his, probably with more force than is strictly necessary.
“You really do annoy me. You know that, right?” she says.
“Right back atcha, Buckley,” Steve tells her, and he’s a long, warm line pressed along her side – a steady presence strong enough for her to lean on, should the need arise.
And if, for a moment, Robin has to turn her face away to hide the fondness in her smile, well – she thinks Steve knows why.
//