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“Come on , Buckley!”
Robin turns and stares at Steve “The Hair” Harrington, trying to look as dejected as possible. Steve picks her up Thursday nights after band practice and, admittedly, it does nothing for her game. Not that she had any in the first place.
“I’m coming!” she yells, turning back to the task at hand. Vickie.
Walking out together has become almost habitual for the two of them. Every Thursday night Robin puts away her trumpet, stands outside the band room, and waits for Vickie to join her so they can walk through the school together. It’s nice. Familiar. Robin never imagined she would have that with Vickie.
But now, they’re standing outside in the warm late-April Hawkins air, and Steve Harrington is yelling at them from the window of his 1983 BMW 733i.
“Did you need a ride? He might be a dumbass sometimes, but I think it adds to the charm.”
A loud honk startles the both of them. Robin whips her head around and gives Steve what can only be described as a ‘don’t fuck this up for me’ look. He puts his hands up in surrender and leans back in his seat. Robin scoffs. Smug bastard.
Vickie laughs and looks over at the car, and Robin can see the gears turning in her head. “Oh, I know about Steve Harrington. I still can’t believe you two are friends.”
Robin smiles at Vickie, then at Steve, then back. “He gets a bad rap. I promise, the Steve Harrington of '83 is dead. He’s a changed man!” She yells the last bit, making sure Steve can hear her. It earns her another honk.
Vickie cocks an eyebrow and looks between Robin and Steve one more time. “Fine, I’ll take your word for it,” she concedes. “I didn’t really feel like walking anyway.” The two share another smile before finally walking over to Steve’s car.
They climb into the backseat, and Steve turns to face them. Well, face Vickie, really. He completely ignores Robin, as if she isn’t even there. Funny joke, Harrington. Is this roleplay of my sophomore year?
“Greetings Ma’am, I’ll be your taxi driver for the evening,” he starts, holding out his hand for Vickie to shake. She smiles at the absurdity and sneaks a glance at Robin who is currently rolling her eyes so hard you can barely see her iris. Vickie takes his hand and shakes it tentatively. He turns back around and makes an adjustment to his rear-view mirror that Robin can tell is just for show. He never changes the position of his mirror. Unless he’s checking his hair.
“Now, if you’ll just let me know the address of your destination, we’ll be out of here in no time.” Vickie tells him her address. “That’ll be $24.89.”
“God, Steve you’re so fucking lame. ” Robin kicks the back of his seat and it earns her a glare.
“Sorry for being hospitable to our guest ,” he counters.
“Thank you so much, kind sir, for your hospitality. It is greatly appreciated,” Vickie responds, playing along with Steve’s faux manners. Oh god they're both lame. How did I not see this coming?
“See, Robin? At least s omeone appreciates it,” he mutters, pulling out of the parking lot. Robin ignores him. Instead, she looks over at Vickie. And, to Robin’s surprise, she’s smiling. Robin would dare to say she was smiling fondly at the two of them. And suddenly, she can’t help but smile back.
~~~
“You know, I actually—”
Robin tuned out Steve’s monologue a long time ago. She feels bad about it, of course she does; he listens to her ramble all the time. It’s only fair she return the favour every once and a while. But it's awfully hard for her to stay engaged due to her… present circumstances. She makes a mental note to apologize later and to tell him to re-ramble all this when he gets the chance. Because, at the current moment, Robin’s right shoulder is working overtime as a pillow. For a cute girl. Robin’s cute girl. Her crush of seven months and twenty-three days– not that she’s counting. And her brain has gone blank.
“Steve,” Robin whispers, her eyes darting between Vickie’s head on her shoulder and the driver in the front seat. He doesn’t hear her.
“ Steve ,” she hisses, louder and with a sense of urgency. This gets his attention and he takes his eyes off the road to glance at her in the rear-view mirror.
“Holy shit.” Even if she couldn’t see him in the mirror, Robin would’ve immediately known he was grinning like an idiot. Like a smug idiot. It was dripping from his voice and it made Robin want to clock him in the face and drive the car home herself. A terrible idea all-around, but one that certainly crossed her mind.
“Steve, no—”
“ Holy shit, Robin ,” he whispers, stifling a laugh. She tries to take a deep breath. It fails.
“Stop it,” she warns him. She’s not mad, so the words don’t sting. She’s just anxious and annoyed. And Steve’s teasing isn’t helping.
“But—”
“You’re on thin ice, Steve.” Robin’s fists clench and her eyes squeeze shut. She loves Steve, she does, but he’s not helping. He is really not helping. Actively making things worse, perhaps.
“Robs, your crush is literally sleeping on your sho-”
“Harrington. If you do not shut the fuck up–” Robin raises her voice too loud. It’s still quiet, much quieter than she normally spoke while chastising Steve, but it’s loud enough to make Vickie stir. The car goes silent, neither of them speaking for several moments. Robin thanks a non-existent higher power for giving her the time to breathe.
It’s Steve that finally breaks the silence, voice barely above a whisper.
“Okay. God. You’re so touchy about this stuff.” The words are harsh, but there’s no bite behind them. There never is with Steve. It’s part of what she likes about him. He’s never mean with her.
Steve looks back at the road. Before long, he angles the rear-view mirror so Robin can see herself and Vickie in it. Robin thinks it’s a sweet gesture at first, but she hears him suppress a laugh. He knew she’d start staring.
He’s right, Robin is staring. It's hard for her not to stare at Vickie during regular interactions, but this? Now this is difficult. Impossible even. Impossible to ignore how at peace she looks, knowing how hard she’s been working to get Hawkins back on its feet after the “earthquake”. Impossible to look away from the face she spent months committing to memory, now in a state she’d never seen before. Impossible to not be reminded of the way her hair curls— reminded of the way Robin is always tempted to tuck any loose strands behind her ears. She’s never done it, of course, but she’s considered it more times than she’d like to admit.
Robin could get used to seeing Vickie like this. Vulnerable. Cozy. Safe. She thinks about what it’d be like to commit this Vickie to memory too. And then she remembers Steve is in the front seat, and the trance is broken.
Steve's no stranger to pining in secret. Fuck, he pined over Robin for like... three days at least. And she knows he can see it in other people too. Or, at the very least, in her. Robin's in too deep, and Steve can see it. She's falling in love.
Robin Buckley is falling in love. Shit.
“You’re hopeless,” Steve whispers. She can hear him sigh.
“Fuck off,” Robin hisses back. But this time, she’s smiling.
~~~
Robin is many things, and confident is only occasionally one of them. But it seems like this is one of those occasions, because— after sufficiently amping herself up— she changes positions. And all of a sudden, her head is resting on Vickie's. They're basically cuddling at this point, and it takes all of Robin's might not to scream and barrel roll out of Steve's car. She'd do it too, but Vickie isn't the only one tired from practice. The school day is long enough, but tacking on an extra three hours of doing nothing but standing and nearly passing out from lack of oxygen? It makes it almost unbearable. She loves band, she does, but it's work.
The adrenaline wears off and Robin feels like she's been hit by a semi-truck. Her eyes want to close, and she lets them.
Steve takes one last look at the backseat and smiles when he sees the way they've manuevered themselves. The space between them has gone from inches to nearly nothing, and Steve can see where their hands are lazily intertwined in Robin's lap. "Smooth, Buckley. I didn't know you had it in you."
They stay intertwined the entire way home.