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They had gotten past the ambulances, past the EMTs, even past the rest of the party and all the way to the car before Steve realized the problem.
“I don’t actually know how to get to your house,” Steve said, swallowing down the absolutely insane little giggle that wanted to slip out and twirling his spare set of keys around his finger. Nancy had always told him that keeping the spares in the glovebox meant that anyone could steal his car, but it also meant that he could drive Robin back home now that they were cleared to leave.
Well, if he knew how to get her home.
Steve knew Robin was a lesbian, a secret that she hadn’t told anyone but him, but he didn’t know her address. Another deranged chuckle threatened to escape.
Robin hummed instead of answering, tapping her fingers on her bruised knees. She avoided meeting his eye when he turned to look at her, staring out the window instead. The smoldering ruins of the mall were still burning down nearby, and the bright red and blue flashing lights were starting to hurt his eyes.
“You OD over there?” Steve teased, letting his fingers slip away from the ignition and trying to figure out what might have upset her.
“No. I…Could I- I mean- My parents aren’t home right now,” She finally admitted, looking down at her sneakers, “They went out of town for Fourth of July on a couple’s retreat thing.”
The impulsive part of Steve that liked to run his brain wanted to ask why that mattered, but somehow he managed to keep his foot out of his mouth this time, letting himself work through the problem in front of him.
Robin’s parents weren’t home. Robin didn’t want to go home. But if her parents weren’t there, then it wasn’t because she didn’t want to see them. So what was the problem? She was going to be by herself, no one to bother her. No one around to ask her uncomfortable questions, or try to get her to talk about things she couldn’t talk about. Steve’s parents weren’t home either. This morning it had been upsetting, but now he was happy to be by himself.
Oh.
All at once it hit him, and Steve wanted to slap his palm against forehead. Robin wasn’t like him, she didn’t want to be alone.
Obviously she didn’t. This was her first time.
After his first brush with the Upside Down, he hadn’t slept for almost four days straight. His parents had nearly blown a gasket when they got home and saw the electricity bill, but it hadn’t mattered to him. He had been too terrified of the dark to be afraid of their reactions.
He didn’t want that for Robin. Not after everything they just went through together.
But where could he bring her? He could ask Joyce if Robin could come home with her, but she was probably going to be at the hospital with Hopper all night long, and Robin didn’t really know Nancy all that well. Claudia would be smothering Dustin for at least the next fifteen hours, so his house was out too, and Steve didn’t feel comfortable asking the Sinclairs for something so intimate.
There was the other option that was sitting right in front of him, but for some reason Steve couldn’t quite get his throat to unstick long enough to get the words out. He had planned to go home and finish his routine, and he couldn’t do that if someone was in the house.
But Robin was upset. She didn’t want to be alone tonight. He couldn’t leave her alone now.
“Do you…um- maybe want to stay over at my place tonight?” Steve offered slowly, hoping that was what Robin had been hinting at this whole time. If she laughed at him now or told him that was a stupid idea that would be the last straw that broke his back.
“Yes, please,” Robin sighed, her entire body falling against the seat, all of the tension of the moment instantly evaporating. Steve released his own short breath in unison with her.
She closed her eyes and blindly shot her hand out, taking Steve’s and squeezing it quickly before releasing him so he could drive them home. Robin’s hands were freezing cold, and a chilly imprint stayed on his overheated skin. Anything reservations he might have had about taking her with him evaporated into thin air.
She needed this, and he could do this for her.
With that thought Steve turned the engine over, pointing all of the vents at her and blasting the heat when the car rumbled to life, ignoring the fact that it was literally July and he was roasting hot.
It didn’t matter. Robin was cold.
They didn’t really talk on the drive home. Robin mostly kept her eyes shut, occasionally looking out the window and watching the streetlights pass by as Steve drove them to Loch Nora. He checked on her periodically, alternating between watching the road, his mirrors, and the strange but wonderful girl sitting in his passenger seat. Normally Steve liked to speed a little, but today he took every turn with care. He wasn’t nauseous anymore, but there was the off chance Robin still was, and he didn’t want to risk it.
They got home a whole five minutes later than it usually would have taken, but it was worth it to keep the drive peaceful.
The house was dark as they pulled up, silent and slightly foreboding. Steve killed the engine but kept the lights on as they climbed out of the car. This was the first part of his routine for nights like this. Home. Food. Shower. Sleep.
“Wait here,” Steve said as Robin started to walk up the drive with him. She raised her eyebrows and Steve shifted his weight from foot to foot. Explaining would take too long, and probably make him sound crazy, and he was already wasting time as it was, “Please? I’ll be right back,”
Robin shrugged and leaned back, resting her hip on the hood of the Beemer and wrapping her arms around herself tightly. She looked cold in just her stupid skimpy Scoops Ahoy uniform and Steve winced, turning back to the car and rooting around in his backseat till he found one of his high school sweatshirts. It was the one Nancy had really liked to borrow, and even just seeing it was enough to make a spike shoot directly through his heart.
Nope. Push that back where it belongs. No time to think about Nancy.
Steve had a routine he had to follow. Home. Food. Shower. Sleep.
“Here, put this on, and I’ll be back in thirty seconds,” He promised, tossing the sweatshirt towards Robin and jogging up to the pitch black house. His hands were shaking as he tried to unlock the front door, his mind screaming at him that there was something behind him waiting to eat him. Something terrifying with a face full of jagged teeth and no eyes.
A monster.
But it wasn’t real. Just his imagination. Not real. Steve fumbled the keys, dropping them to the ground.
Fuck.
Steve knelt down to grab them, indulging himself in just a single glance backward. Nothing but the front lawn, his car, and Robin watching him like a hawk, buried deep in his sweatshirt.
Robin, watching his back. If something tried to sneak up on him, at the very least she would scream and warn him. It was kind of a macabre thought, but it calmed Steve down enough that he was able to pick up his keys and unlock the door, flipping all three of the hallway switches over and bathing everything in perfect, lovely, light.
Steve let out a long sigh, quickly scanning the entrance of the house. No flickering lights, no sounds, nothing lying in wait to snatch them up. They were safe. He walked back over to Robin, much slower than before, dipping into the car to shut off the lights and gesturing her forward so she would walk into the house before him.
If something attacked them from behind, he would be the one it took, not her.
Robin gave him a strange little look, but if she thought what he was doing was weird, then she kept it to herself. Steve was grateful for her uncharacteristic silence. He really enjoyed her little witticisms most of the time, but his heart was still fluttering, and the longer they lingered outside, the more his anxiety grew. Steve would be fine once he had Robin safe in the house.
Well, closer to fine anyway.
The house was abandoned as per usual. No note. No parents. No red light blinking on the answering machine.
He hadn’t expected it, but it still kind of stung that they hadn’t even called to check in.
“It’s so quiet,” Robin said, clearly attempting to cut through the sudden awkwardness.
“My parents are in New York this week,” Steve replied, continuing just because he couldn’t stand any more silence, “New York till the 9th, then home for the weekend, then out to Houston for a month,”
“A month?” Robin repeated. Steve shrugged and nodded, Robin’s jaw dropping as he did.
“That’s a long time, Steve.”
“My dad is a partner at his firm. He has lots of clients all over?” Steve said, his words coming out like he was asking a question instead of stating a fact. He wasn’t sure what to tell her, he had thought it was pretty common knowledge that his parents were gone a lot.
But Robin was staring at Steve like he was from another planet, and the tight too small feeling was coming back in full force. He shrugged again, twirling his keys around and around on his finger.
“And your mom always goes with him?” Robin asked, something in her tone making it even worse. She didn’t sound excited like Tommy and Carol had been when he had first told them, or even confused like Nancy had been when he joked around about his mom’s paranoia over his dad’s serial cheating.
Robin sounded sad. Like she felt bad for him that his parents were always gone. Like she somehow knew that Steve always kind of wished that they would stay home for longer than two or three days.
He couldn’t think about this. This wasn’t part of the routine.
“Are you hungry?” Steve asked, desperately needing to change the subject, needing to get back on track.
Home. Food. Shower. Sleep. Home. Food. Shower. Sleep.
“Starving,” Robin finally said. Steve didn’t bother to hide the shaking sigh that came when he heard her answer. He could fix her hunger. He could help with that. That was in routine.
Steve gestured for Robin to follow him into the kitchen, pulling out a pan and rooting around in the fridge looking for the ingredients. Robin hopped up onto the counter next to the stove, watching as Steve gathered everything he needed to make a grilled cheese and commenting idly on the ‘richie bitch’ appliances in his kitchen.
Grilled Cheese.
Steve had always made grilled cheeses when people were upset. Grilled Cheese and Tomato Soup.
He made grilled cheese and tomato soup for Carol when her dad finally ran off for good, and for Tommy when he had started having confusing dreams when they were thirteen. He made grilled cheese and tomato soup for Dustin after the snow ball, when he had let slip that no girl had danced with him except Nancy, and for El when she found out that there was no way she would be able to go to school next year with the rest of the kids.
It didn’t make things better exactly, but it was a way to think about something else. Steve made himself a grilled cheese with tomato soup each time the Upside Down came back to ruin his life. He was home, and now he was making food, and the thought of that finally began to release the tension from his spine.
This was still a part of the routine, just now he was making food for Robin too.
He moved on autopilot, letting himself nod and hum to Robin’s rambles as he toasted bread and laid down plastic yellow slices of American cheese. It wouldn’t taste the best, but it was a classic, and it was a comfort. Grilled cheese was easy. Simple. Something Steve could do in his sleep.
Something he could do without thinking.
He didn’t need to think about anything while eating grilled cheese. He didn’t need to contemplate how he felt about elevator rides to hell, or the fact that his kids had almost died for the third time in their way too short lives. He didn’t have to wonder what might have happened if Hopper hadn’t gotten away from that blast in time, or how they would handle the next disaster now that El didn’t have her powers.
Making grilled cheese didn’t require thinking about glowing blue drugs, or monsters made out of melted human flesh, or how it felt when Billy’s ribs cracked under his palms as he attempted CPR, knowing it wouldn’t work. Steve didn’t need to hear Max’s wails in the back of his head, or worry about who she was going home with tonight.
Steve just wanted to eat his grilled cheese. He didn’t want to think about evil Russian guards, or the way his skin was still crawling hours and hours later. How he could still feel the man’s hand on his chest, on his cheek, in his hair -
“You’re shaking,”
Huh. He was.
That was quick. Usually he got through eating before it began.
“It’s okay. This always happens,” Steve said, his voice just a touch too dead as he tried to give Robin a thin ghost wisp of a smile. He flipped her grilled cheese onto a china plate, cutting it into two triangles and handing it over to her, and starting on his own. He hadn’t eaten in almost a day, and he had thrown up a lot. He needed to eat.
Home, then food. Steve was supposed to eat, he was making something he knew he would always want to eat.
But he didn't want to eat. All he could think about was how he needed a shower. He needed to get in the shower.
It was out of routine, he was supposed to finish eating before getting in the shower. But if he took even one bite then he was going to hurl again, and he had already thrown up way too much tonight. His body felt wrong, and out of place, and dirty, and he just needed to be clean. Then he would stop feeling that man touching him, hurting him, trying to get things out of him that Steve couldn’t even give him.
“Steve,”
There was a hand on him, soft and cool. Not hitting him, or touching him where he didn’t want to be touched. Steve looked down. He could see Robin’s hand on his arm, and he could feel that she was touching him, but it didn’t feel real. It was like she was touching someone else, and Steve was just watching it all happen.
But even if it wasn’t real, he didn’t want that. He didn’t want hands on him. Even if it didn’t hurt, even if it wasn’t wrong. Steve stepped back, bumping against the stove and nearly burning himself on the pan as it slipped off the grate.
He turned and put the pan back where it belonged, turning off the burner.
“Steve,” Robin tried again, her voice the same gentle whisper that it had been in the bathroom. The last time she had spoken to him like that, she had been trying to get him to see what she was saying. And, when he turned his head woodenly to stare at her, she was looking at him with wide eyes, staring up at him like she was afraid he was going to break in half.
It was a fair thing to be worried about. Steve kind of felt like he was about to shatter into a million pieces. And he couldn’t do that. Not in front of Robin.
He had already broken routine tonight by bringing her home, so it couldn’t be that bad to break it again. He needed to escape more than he needed to follow routine.
“I’m gonna go shower,” The words tumbled out of his mouth without his permission, moving as quickly as they could to cut Robin off before she could say something else, or put her hands on him again, “You should eat.”
Steve stumbled back away from Robin, fleeing up the stairs and into the safety of his bedroom. He didn’t even care that it was dark, he just needed to get as far away as he could from the situation. Steve shut the door tight, practically falling into the light switch to turn it on and ripping his clothes off, leaving them in a bloody heap right by the door of his bedroom.
He wrenched the door of his bathroom open and jumped into the shower, not really paying attention to the knobs, turning them around and around until he felt cold water hitting his shoulders.
The freezing ice hurt as it pounded against his bruises, but Steve couldn’t move. He needed to be clean, whatever it took, whatever pain came. He pressed a hand to his mouth to hold in the whimper that wanted to leak out, kneeling down and hanging his head low. The water got warmer and warmer, steam rising up all around him as it started to get hot enough to hurt in the same way the cold had.
But still the dirty feeling stayed.
Steve grabbed blindly above him until his hand closed around the bar of soap, rubbing it all over his body to no avail. He was still dirty, dirty, dirty, dirty. There were still hands on him.
Vaguely, Steve was aware that at some point in this process he had started to openly weep, but it was fine. The sound of the shower would drown it out, and his parents weren’t coming home anyway. If he was really honest with himself, Steve could have fallen apart anywhere he wanted. It wasn’t like anyone would hear him.
That was the secret fifth part of his routine, the one he couldn’t even acknowledge.
Home. Food. Shower. Fall Apart. Sleep.
He could Fall Apart anywhere. It wouldn’t matter. But for some reason he still felt the need to hide away, still needed to go somewhere safe. Somewhere where no one would find him, even if he already knew no one was looking.
“Steve? Fuck. Okay, okay. I’m here. Do you want me here? I can go if that's better. Would that be better?”
Right. He wasn’t alone this time. Someone was looking.
“Are you hurt? Does something hurt? I can help- well I don’t know that, but I can try. Do you need me to call someone?”
Robin was here. Robin had come upstairs, and now she was in the bathroom. He could just make out a dark shaped lump on the other side of the steam covered glass, and if Steve could get a breath between his sobs, then he would be laughing himself silly at how ridiculous this entire situation was.
“Steve?”
But he couldn’t laugh. He couldn’t talk. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe.
All he could do right now was cry.
“I don’t know if this is actually helping. Fuck. I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. I don’t think I’m helping, is this helping at all?” Robin paused here, waiting for Steve to respond, but he didn't even try. Any attempt at speaking would just be a garbled mess, so Steve gave in to the freedom of not being able to lie. The freedom of not being able to try and pretend he was okay.
“I’m just going to keep talking, because you’re crying a lot, and I’ve never seen you cry, and I want to help, but you’re also in the shower right now. Don’t worry I can’t see anything, and I’m lesbian anyway, so if I did, I don’t think it would matter? Does that matter? Should that matter?”
Even if it should have, it didn't. Steve couldn’t care about anything anymore.
“I’m going to decide for both of us that it doesn’t matter. It’s fine, everything is going to be okay. We all survived, fuck well, okay I guess we all didn’t, but you and I did. You and me, we’re alive, and we’re here, and you got us home. That’s good. That’s really good. You did a really good job.”
And on and on and on. Robin continued to babble the entire time Steve let himself Fall Apart. He brought both his arms close in to his chest, letting the pain and fear of the last twenty four hours spill out and flow down the drain. He couldn’t stop. Not yet. Not till it was all out.
Robin bit her rambling off mid sentence when he finally went silent, waiting for a second to make sure he was really done before speaking again.
“Steve?”
“Yeah Rob?” He croaked, his voice raspy after what had to be at least thirty minutes of full on sobbing.
“Get out of the shower. Please,” She tacked on at the last second. Steve nodded, although he knew she wouldn’t be able to see it, reaching up and turning the knob. The water slowed down to just a dribble, but Steve couldn’t make himself get up. It was like his legs were frozen, stuck where they were.
He was supposed to feel better after Fall Apart. That was the point in the routine where things were supposed to start getting better. But they weren’t. Steve was just cold and wet on top of everything else.
He was still shaking.
The door of the shower slowly slid open, and Steve could just catch a glimpse of Robin's long white socks out of the corner of his eye. He wanted to get up, give her a King Steve smile or make some joke that had them both laughing.
He didn’t have any funny left in him. Steve wasn’t sure he had anything left in him.
“I’m going to put this on you now. If you don’t want that, give me some sort of sign,” Robin said in warning, waiting a full ten seconds before squatting down and wrapping a big fluffy blanket around Steve’s shoulders, rubbing his arm up and down over and over. It was nice, unexpectedly nice. The towel was warm, cutting through some of the chill overtaking his body, and Steve could smell a hint of the lavender detergent that his mom loved so much.
Jesus Christ. Steve wanted his mom right now.
That started up another round of tears. Thankfully silent ones this time. Steve wanted his mom so badly his chest physically hurt. Which was stupid, because he couldn’t remember a single time that having his mom around had made things better.
It didn’t matter. He still wanted her.
“I think that we should get up, and get some dry clothes on, and maybe I can fix up your face,” Robin offered in a theatrically optimistic tone, continuing to rub his arm and reaching over with her free hand to brush at his right cheek. A tiny smile cracked through the stone that was taking up the space where his face usually sat, and Steve managed to lift his head enough to look at Robin.
“Dry clothes? Fixed up face?” She asked, still holding onto him. Steve nodded ever so slightly, taking a deep breath, then another when the first one didn’t do much to help him. Robin hesitantly backed away, staring at Steve with plain faced worry as she ducked out of the bathroom and back into his bedroom.
Theoretically, Steve could shut and lock the door now. Hide himself away and stay in here all night until Robin finally left. He could avoid any uncomfortable conversations about his stupid meltdown, or, even worse, attempts at sympathy.
He could do that, but he wouldn’t. Robin had been through enough tonight. She didn’t need to deal with more of Steve’s theatrics. He let out a long heavy sigh, shaking his head once and forcing himself to stand, wrapping the towel around his waist securely and staggering out of the bathroom and collapsing onto the edge of his bed.
Robin had her back to him as he came in. She had finally ditched her bloody and torn clothes, changing them out for just the sweatshirt Steve had given her before, and a pair of old plaid pajama pants with the legs cuffed so they didn’t drag on the floor.
“I think we should burn these,” Robin declared with a clearly forced smile, gathering both of their uniforms in her arms and holding them up so he could see them, “Tomorrow we can make a big bonfire in your backyard and toss ‘em in.”
“Tomorrow,” Steve agreed, his voice still too hollow to sound fully human.
Robin’s attempt at a smile dropped, and she tossed the clothes into the corner of the room, beginning to root around in his drawers and pull out random shirts, holding them up for him to choose.
“Is there anything specific you want to wear?” Robin asked, turning to look his way before throwing herself back into her assigned task.
“There’s a blue hoodie in the bottom drawer? It says Hawkins High 1965?” Steve requested, wrapping his arms around his middle and hunching his shoulders in tight.
He didn’t exactly care that he was only wearing a towel, even though he kind of knew he was supposed to, but the AC blowing through the house was only making the shaking worse.
Besides, getting to wear that sweater might make things better.
Or it would make everything a thousand times worse.
Robin nodded enthusiastically, digging through until she found what he wanted, easily tossing it over along with a pair of black sweats with a hole in the knee. Steve grabbed them both midair, instantly burying his face into the soft cotton and taking a deep calming breath.
It only smelled like his own cologne at this point, but there was some god smiling down on Steve now, because even just holding it made everything feel a little less big
“Is that your dad’s?” Robin asked as Steve pulled the hoodie on and burrowed his nose into the fabric.
“It’s my brother’s,” Steve replied, his voice muffled from where his face was hidden.
“You have a brother?”
“Um, had,” Steve said awkwardly, sliding his sweatpants on and throwing the towel in the corner with their bloody uniforms, “He died.”
“Wow, I continue to just say exactly the wrong thing,” Robin said with a breathless laugh. She threw herself onto the bed next to where he was sitting and covered her face with her hands, “I am the worst,”
Steve huffed out a laugh of his own, laying back down next to her. His wet hair curled up cold against his neck, and the blank whiteness of his ceiling loomed over them.
“It’s okay, we never met or anything. He enlisted in 1966, right before he was supposed to go to college,” Steve explained, unsure of why he was telling her all of this. She couldn’t care, “He got shot like three weeks after getting to Vietnam.”
“Jesus,” Robin gasped, “Seriously?”
“Yeah…My mom and dad never talk about him, but they had me right after.”
Steve trailed off, considering his next words. He could say nothing, let the conversation die off right where it was. But Robin had trusted him with one of her most precisely guarded secrets today. And she had just seen him at one of his worst moments and done nothing but take care of him since.
If it would be safe to tell anyone, it would be safe to tell her.
“Sometimes it feels like they just had me to try and replace him,” Steve whispered, letting the secret sit in the air around them.
Robin didn’t immediately deny what he was saying the way Nancy might have, and Steve was grateful for that. It felt like she was actually thinking through what he said, considering why he felt that way, even though she only knew the bare bones of the whole messy affair.
“No matter what, you're still your own person,” Robin finally stated. Steve scoffed, and Robin shifted so she was facing him, holding her face in one hand and pushing on his arm to get her to look at him.
“They named me after him,” Steve added, just because he could tell her without fear, “He was James Steven. I’m Steven James,”
“Still your own person. Doubt your brother ever helped to take down a secret Russian invasion,” She joked.
Steve couldn’t help the smile that curled on his face. No, Jaime had definitely never done anything like that. The stories his parents used to tell him made Jaime sound perfect, like a hero from the fantasy novels the kids loved. Jaime would never be caught dead in a Scoops Ahoy uniform, or laughing with his lesbian best friend sitting on the floor of a dirty bathroom.
Maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing.
“I was named after my grandmother.” Robin offered, pulling Steve out of his thoughts. She was back to lying on her back, her fingers laced over her stomach, “Her name was Robin Noelle, but my parents didn’t like Noelle. They named me Robin Bird,”
“Robin Bird?” He asked incredulously, and she shot a hand out lightning fast, slapping his ribs and returning back to her neutral position.
“Robin Bird Buckley,” She sighed, rolling her eyes, “They were hippies. Still are,”
‘I like it. Robin Bird,” Steve said, trying the name out on his tongue. It felt good to say, like the word 'raindrop’. Steve had always loved saying ‘raindrop’.
“You should go by the full thing,” He suggested, trying to sound genuine about it.
He liked messing with Robin, shooting back and forth little jabs that didn’t hurt, but something about the way she was staring off into space made it seem like this wasn’t something he should tease her about.
“The only one who ever called me by both names was my Nana. My Robin Nana,” She whispered.
Steve watched as her jaw clenched and unclenched as she looked for the right words, suddenly being thrust back into the feeling he had in the bathroom hours ago. The same feeling of needing to pay attention, needing to really listen to every word she said. Whatever Robin was saying was important, and not something she usually let people know.
“She helped raise me, cause my parents were always on the road and stuff. Hippies. Always going to music festivals and shit like that. After she died I used to tell my parents they weren’t allowed to call me Robin Bird. That it was special, just for her and me,”
“Oh sorry,” Steve apologized immediately, wincing at how cavalier he had been with using a name that clearly meant a lot to her.
“No it’s okay,” Robin reassured him, holding her hand out for him to take.
He slid his fingers in between her own, bringing their joined hands up to his mouth so he could breathe warm air onto her cold fingers. They stayed like that for a minute, listening only to the sound of the clock on his wall, and their own deep breaths.
“For some reason it doesn’t make me sad if it’s you,” Robin admitted, still not looking at Steve, “Which is probably kinda weird. Right?”
The whole thing should have been bizarre. All of it should have been completely insane.
Instead, Steve was at peace, calm in a way he hadn’t felt in almost three years.
“Not weird.” He offered, releasing her hand and letting her drag it away back towards her own chest.
He scooted up so he was lying against the pillows, shutting off the lamp next to him as Robin moved up on her own. The room was plunged into half darkness, the light from the ensuite and the hallway making it so he could still see everything around him. Steve took a deep breath, letting it go in a long slow sigh.
Home. Food. Shower. Fall Apart. Sleep.
“Hey Stevie?” Robin’s voice cut through the silence. He opened his eyes and turned his body so it was facing hers. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had called him ‘Stevie’. Maybe no one ever had.
It felt right when it came from her.
“Yeah?”
“Are you tired?”
“...Not really.”
Robin shifted closer, pushing her face into his chest and wrapping her arms tight around his middle. Steve let her, tangling his fingers in her hair and idly wondering how the fuck they had gotten to this point.
“Is this okay?” She asked. He only caught part of her words, but he knew what she would be asking. It was the same question he was asking himself.
“‘Course it is,” Steve mumbled, pulling her a little bit closer to him.
Robin went easily, pressing her entire body flat against his and humming.
“What’s your favorite memory?” She wondered aloud.
Steve chuckled softly and began to tell her without a hint of hesitation. It was a memory of the kids, all of them at his house celebrating his graduation. They had given him homemade gifts, baked him a cake, even forced him to play their stupid dungeon game.
It was a nice memory, a safe one.
“What’s yours?” He asked back when he was finished, and she immediately launched into the story.
On and on they went. Back and forth and back and forth. Funny stories, sad stories, things they swore to themselves they would never tell another soul as long as they lived. It was the kind of conversation you only ever had with one or two people in your life, the bold vulnerability that most people never got close to. It was intimacy, plain and simple, but not the kind Steve had experience with.
He was good with romantic intimacy, familiar with the give and take and push and pull of it. He fell in love easily, hard and fast in the best way. This wasn’t like anything he had ever known. There were no expectations here, no waiting goodbye for when he stepped too far in. It was safe even when it was exposing all of his most preciously guarded parts.
After tonight, he was pretty sure he had a new favorite memory.
“Robinbird?” Steve yawned, blinking blearily in the morning sun. They had been at it for hours by this point, and exhaustion was finally starting to creep up on him. But, for some reason he couldn’t quite figure out, he didn’t want to be the first to fall asleep.
“Yeah, Stevie?”
“I think I’m fallin’ asleep,” He slurred out, unable to keep his eyes open. He let them droop shut, dark black overtaking his vision.
“I’ll be here when you wake up,” Robin said in a gentle tone, her voice cutting through his fatigue.
“Promise?” He whispered childishly, unable to help himself.
He had just heard it so many times before, and the disappointment of waking up by himself in his cold bed always managed to pierce through his heart and break it right in two.
He couldn’t handle that again. Not now. Not with Robin.
“Yes Steve, I promise,” She whispered back, and he felt her lips pressing softly against his forehead for just a second before her fingers started to run through his hair, dropping him even closer to passing out.
“I’m not going anywhere,”
And, as he fell asleep, for the very first time in his whole life, Steve trusted that he wouldn’t be alone when he woke up.