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Robin knew her parents loved her unconditionally.
Robin also knew her parents didn’t get her.
They didn’t understand why she needed all her clothes to be a certain texture; didn’t understand why she always order a grilled cheese when they went out even to fancy restaurants; didn’t understand why she would get flustered whenever she had a sleepover with some of her girl friends; didn’t understand anything about why Robin was Robin . But there was one person who did.
So after yet another scolding from her mother about her rambling and gesticulation, Robin snuck out of her room and biked over to her safe place. Knocking on the door revealed a sleepy looking Steve. He didn’t say a word, just let her into the house, and waited for her to tell him what was wrong.
“I just don’t get why she has to tell me every single time I mess up!” Robin exploded. “Like all I was doing was talking to my dad about band practice this afternoon and Mom comes in and says ‘Robin stop moving your hands around so much’ and then leaves the room!”
She sighs and flops down onto Steve’s couch. He sits down next to her and grabs one of her hands. “Before you steamroll on a rant,” he says, “Do you want me to listen, help, or distract?”
This was one of their things. Whenever one of them had a shitty day, whether from school, work, family, Upside Down stuff, or otherwise, the other one would ask what was needed to help provide comfort. Their answers always depended on their moods, and right now Robin didn’t want to think about anything.
“Distract please,” she mumbled. Steve was up in an instant, dragging her to her feet. “What-” she started.
“We’re doing a girls night!” Steve declared happily. “Tomorrow's Saturday and neither of us have a shift tomorrow morning, so we can stay up as late as we want. What do you want for dinner?”
Robin laughed, she couldn’t help it. This was why she loved Steve. He never asked for something beyond her capabilities, listened and ranted with her, and made her laugh even when she wanted to curl into a ball and cry.
“Can I have grilled cheese?” Robin asked shyly.
“Are you gonna help?” Steve shot back.
“Do you want your house burned down?”
“Fair point.”
Steve pulled Robin into the kitchen, not releasing her hand. She was grateful, his warmth providing a sense of grounding. As Steve started the stove and oiled the pan, Robin snooped through the cabinets to find the bread and cheese. Handing them off to Steve, Robin hopped up on the counter to watch her best friend cook.
“So how was band practice, babe?” Steve asked.
“Oh my God,” Robin said, rolling her eyes. “It was a garbage can lit on fire by a train crashing into it.”
“That bad?”
“Oh yeah.” Robin launched into her story, detailing exactly how the music director failed to keep the percussion on beat the whole practice, her hands waving in the air the whole time. Steve made sounds of acknowledgment in all the right places, even providing his own commentary on certain people. Robin felt a usual rush of gratefulness for the boy in front of her.
“So what did Mr. Ganbon do after that?” Steve asked, plating both of the grilled cheeses and offering one of them to Robin.
“I don’t know,” Robin said as Steve hopped up on the counter beside her. “The bell rang and I bolted out of there. I almost forgot my case, I was in such a rush.”
“Bet he gave them detention,” Steve bit into his grilled cheese, making a small noise of pleasure. “Coach Wilsky would have given us detention for far less.”
Robin took a bite of her own grilled cheese and gave a small groan. How did Steve always make the best food? He lived off of TV dinners his entire highschool career, but the minute they became friends he suddenly became a gourmet chef? Robin didn’t buy it.
“I have no idea,” Robin finally said. “It’s possible. I’ve never seen him that angry before.” Steve gave a noise of acknowledgment and they finished eating their sandwiches in a comfortable silence.
“Alright, shower time,” Steve said as he clambered off the counter.
Robin wrinkled her nose in disgust. “I’m not showering with you, Harrington. Our friendship is strong, but not that strong.”
Steve made a face of equal revulsion. “Ew. Gross, Buckley. No, we’ll take turns showering so we’re clean and then we can change into our pajamas, paint each other's nails, and gossip. You will not believe who came into Family Video today.”
“Who?”
“I’m not telling you until you’re giving me blue nails,” Steve replied. “Erica’s old paint job is coming off and I want a new one.” He held out a hand to help Robin off the counter.
Robin took it and jumped down. “You’re demanding,” she said. “Race you upstairs.” She took off ignoring Steve’s indignant shots from behind her. She rushed up to his bathroom and slammed the door and locked it behind her, giggling all the while.
“Robin, no fair!” She heard as she started the shower.
“Is too fair!” she responded, “I’m sad!”
Robin heard Steve’s huff from behind the door. “So my grilled cheese didn’t cure you?”
“No it did, I just got in the bathroom first. Now go away so I can shower.”
“Don’t use up all the hot water!”
With many complaining noises, Steve left her in peace while she showered. Even though she wasn’t sad anymore, the hot water blasting onto her face did wonders for her mood. Using Steve’s shower stuff, which she knew he would bitch about later, Robin let herself enjoy the chance to decompress and get clean. She wasn’t the best about sticking to a hygiene routine, her chaotic brain just often forgetting about it, but a nice long shower always made her feel much better.
Once she was done and started drying herself off, she knocked on the bathroom door for Steve to give her sleep clothes. He handed her a pair of flannel pants that probably matched his wallpaper and an old Madonna t-shirt she was 87% sure was hers. It didn’t really matter. Robin was almost positive their closets were so mixed together that no one would be able to tear them apart at this point.
“You’re turn, dingus,” she said as she walked into Steve’s room.
“Did you use my conditioner again,” Steve asked, not even looking up from his magazine.
“Nooo,” Robin lied. She flopped down next to him, smirking at his narrow gaze.
“Liar,” he said without any heat in his voice. Steve threw the magazine onto the bedside table and walked into the bathroom with his bundle of clothes. A few moments later, Robin heard the shower start up again.
She laid on the bed another couple moments before getting up to grab the nail polish. It was located in the bottom of Steve’s old backpack so that if Steve’s parents came home, they wouldn’t be likely to find it. Robin hated that they had to do it this way, but until she graduated and she and Steve could get an apartment together, this is what they had to do. Robin grabbed a couple blue nail polishes since Steve had mentioned wanting that earlier. She was still deciding if she wanted the black or the lavender when Steve walked out of the bathroom.
“Black or lavender?” she asked him, holding up the two colors.
“I said I wanted blue,” Steve replied, touseling his hair in a towel.
“No for me, babe,” Robin said. She rolled her eyes before gesturing to the assortment of blue nail polish at her feet.
“Oh,” he said. “Um… you could do both? No. Black. Let’s go with the black.”
“Perfect.”
The two of them sat down by the foot of Steve’s bed. They played a quick game of rock, paper, scissors to decide who got their nails painted first and Robin’s paper ungracefully conceded to Steve’s scissors. After spending ten minutes picking a shade of blue for his nails, Steve finally settled on a really pretty midnight blue and Robin could finally start her work.
“So who came into Family Video when I wasn’t there to rescue you?” Robin asked. “Your children?”
Steve rolled his eyes. “No, not my children. Tammy Tompson.”
Robin stopped her brush movements and looked at Steve sharply. “You’re fucking with me.”
He burst out laughing at the look on her face. “I’m absolutely fucking with you. No it was Mrs. Cadershaw.”
“The old lady who keeps renting The Outsiders ?”
“Yup,” Steve said, popping the “p.”
“What she’d get?” Robin asked. She finished Steve’s left hand and moved on to his right.
“ The Return of the Living Dead ,” Steve said, completely straight faced.
“Why does this eighty-seven year old lady keep renting horror films and movies meant for teenagers?” Robin giggled.
Steve joined in her laughter. “I have no idea. But Keith’s face when she checked out was priceless. I’ve never seen him so scared of a little old lady.”
Robin couldn’t stop her giggling at the mental image of Keith checking out a horror movie for Mrs. Cadershaw. She managed to finish painting Steve’s nails in between her laughs. Steve smiled at her before grabbing one of her hands to start painting her nails black.
“Yeah and all she did was smile at him really nicely and wished him a pleasant day. Then she just hobbled out with the film in her carpetbag.”
“That would have been brilliant to see.” Robin said.
“Yeah,” Steve agreed. “But instead you had to watch perconcussionists get yelled at.”
Robin started laughing again. “It’s percussionists, Stevie.”
“That’s what I said!”
“No it’s not! You said perconcussionists, not percussionists!”
“It’s the same thing!”
“It’s not even close!” She threw her hands up in the air, forgetting Steve was trying to paint them. It was the final straw.
Robin doubled over with shrieking laughter at Steve’s face. He was sitting there with an affronted look, but he also had a streak of black nail polish smeared across his cheek. She rolled over onto the floor, giggling relentlessly at her best friend.
“Robin!” Steve exclaimed. He grabbed a tissue from his nightstand and started scrubbing furiously at his cheek. “I just showered!”
“It’s your own fault, dingus,” Robin said from the floor. “At least you finished painting my nails already. I would have made you finish them even if I hadn’t just decorated your face.”
Being the very mature adult that he was, Steve stuck his tongue out at her. Being an equally mature adult, Robin stuck her tongue out at him. They dissolved into giggles again.
After regaining some control over themselves, the duo set about actually going to sleep considering it was nearing two in the morning. Robin put the nail polish back in the bag while Steve grabbed the extra blankets from his closet. They brushed their teeth and Steve tried to brush his hair, but Robin pointed out that it was just going to be tangled in the morning anyways.
“Big spoon or little spoon?” Robin asked him after they had climbed into bed.
“Little spoon please,” Steve responded. He turned over on his side and Robin scooted up behind him, throwing the blankets over them before slinging her arm over Steve’s waist. She buried her face in his neck while he tangled their legs together. If anyone walked in at that moment, Robin doubted they could tell which body part belonged to which person. She liked it that way.
“‘night Stevie. I love you,” she mumbled.
“Love you too, Robbie,” he slurred back.
With her chest pressed to his back, Robin could feel Steve’s rhythmic breathing. Slowly, but surely, she began to drift off into a comfortable sleep.