Chapter Text
“Robin, I’m gonna need you to hurry up.”
“I’m almost done, give me a second.”
Robin struggled with the last of several deadbolts and hid the (quite frankly ridiculous) keyring Murray had given her to his shop behind the loose brick around the corner. Robin and Steve were both convinced that the record shop that employed them was a front for something else. Despite the fact that the store didn’t close until 10 PM – far too late for a place that sold vinyls and CDs – people rarely actually shopped there. This lack of clientele, coupled with the fact that Murray was just as likely to be yelling in Russian as English when he was in his office and the overtly paranoid security system Murray had rigged, meant that the shop just had to have been getting money from somewhere else.
“Oh, yeah, take all the time in the world, why don’t you?”
“Can it, Harrington. You’re just jealous Murray trusts me enough to lock up and won’t let you look at the keyring.”
Steve rolled his eyes and Robin smirked, adding a tally to her mental “Steve Sucks” counter.
“Whatever. Are you ready for this party?”
Not at all. I can’t believe you convinced me to do this. I can’t believe you made me wear this to work. I can’t believe we’re going out after working all day today.
“It’s not even Halloween, Steve.”
“It’s the Saturday before Halloween. It’s basically the same thing.”
“Whatever you say, Your Holiness.”
“Thank you, Sister.”
Steve was wearing the most sacrilegious pope costume she had ever seen. He had on a white pellegrina, an oversized, bedazzled cross on a chain around his neck, and shorts that would give his Scoops Ahoy uniform a run for its money.
“I’m pretty sure your grandmother would faint if she ever saw you in this outfit.”
“And I think the Catholic Church should take a page out of our book, Robbie,” Steve said, slinging an arm around her shoulder. “We look fantastic. I would totally be Catholic if the pope looked like this.”
“I seriously doubt that.” Robin looked down at her costume and shook her head. “I still think I should’ve been the pope and you should’ve been the slutty nun. It fits us better.”
“Yeah, well, maybe next year.”
“No, you promised that next year we would be Wario and Waluigi.”
“And I’m just saying we should keep our options open.”
“We’ll look hideous, Steve, it’s going to be amazing.”
Their Lyft pulled up and Steve opened the door for Robin, giving her a mock bow as she slid in.
“Okay, enough thinking about the future. I just want to focus on the plan tonight.”
“That’s still the future.”
“You know what I mean, Robin, don’t do that to me. I’m planning on getting absolutely hammered. Really letting loose!”
“Please,” Robin scoffed, dramatically extending the word into two syllables. “We both know you’re going to be ready to leave before midnight because you have the sleep schedule of a grandpa.”
“No, I promise, tonight is the night. I won’t drag you away from the party early.”
“I’ll believe it when I see it, Popeye.”
Robin pulled out her phone and opened the text conversation she had with Jonathan Byers. Steve’s head rested on her shoulder and he scoffed at their stiff, impersonal messaging.
“‘On our way.’? Seriously? With a period and everything, Buckley?”
“Look, Steven, we’re both chronic overthinkers and neither of us actually know how to have normal interactions with people. The only reason we’re somewhat-friends is because we’ve taken too many classes together for us to avoid each other.”
Jonathan had been in nearly every one of her education classes. He wanted to be an English teacher, while Robin dreamed of teaching languages. They had bonded over their mutual love for music and art. Jonathan had even taken some photos of Robin for a series he was hoping to showcase in a local gallery. They weren’t close, but when he had extended an invitation to a Halloween party his friends were throwing she wasn’t particularly surprised.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, you interact with me all the time.”
“I said normal interactions, dingus,” Robin teased lightly as they pulled up to the address Jonthan had sent her.
This is not what I expected a Byers Halloween party to look like .
In Robin’s mind, Jonathan Byers was the type to pass Halloween in some dingy basement, a little high and watching classic horror films with a box of pizza in his lap. He was not the type to invite her to a house party that had music, people, and the scent of booze pouring out of every window and door that had inevitably been thrown open.
Steve clapped his hands like a little kid who had been promised anything in the toy aisle and grabbed Robin’s hand, dragging her up the front step into the house. She giggled at his eagerness and squeezed his hand as they entered the house. Parties like this never failed to thrill Robin.
While she may have been awkward when making friends, Robin’s natural snark had carried her through many conversations with strangers at house parties all across town. She was almost a bigger hit than Steve at parties. Almost.
“Harrington!”
Robin didn’t know the voice that had called out from another room, but Steve’s entire face lit up in a way Robin recognized immediately. She could see a vague blush creeping onto his face and smiled wickedly.
Has this dork been harboring a secret crush? This is gonna be so good.
“Munson! What are you doing here?!” Steve bellowed.
She turned to find whoever was making her best friend blush and spotted a man with wild hair, dressed as Frank-N-Furter. Robin smirked, knowing the man was definitely Steve’s type. He had cupped his hands around his mouth and taken a deep breath, ready to yell again.
Robin held up a finger to him and tugged on Steve’s pellegrina, leaning in to be heard over the general ruckus of the crowded party.
“You should stop screaming at each other and just go over there. I’m gonna get a drink. You’re gonna have fun,” Robin all but ordered. “Just make sure you let me know when you’re ready to go home, okay?”
Steve nodded, his face still split by a dopey grin. Robin vaguely recognized the man despite all the makeup. He was a regular at Murray’s shop, always bothering them about some metal records no one had ever heard of. Although, now that she thought about it, he tended to bother Steve a lot more than he did Robin.
Note to self: Tease the hell out of Steve. He was totally blushing.
After she lightly shoved Steve in the general direction of the mysterious Munson, she turned around and headed towards what she hoped was the kitchen. After being stopped twice by people whom she vaguely remembered from some back to school party a few months ago – I must have made a serious impression for these people to remember me – Robin found an ice chest. Feeling triumphant, she stuck her hand in, fishing for something that wasn’t too awful. She pulled out some underwhelming lager and headed back into the throng of people in the living room, hoping to find Jonathan.
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At some point, Robin had become engrossed in a debate with a Spock and a giant banana about which Florence + The Machine album was the best. Robin had sided with Spock that there were very few records that could top Dance Fever while the banana insisted they were sellouts who didn’t appreciate their more classic works.
While the banana defended Lungs, Robin sent a haphazard look around the room, hoping to see Jonathan’s shaggy hair in some corner. Instead, a grey sweater caught her eye.
Even in her slutty nun costume – which was by no means made to keep her warm – Robin was sweating. There were people everywhere and despite it being Halloween the weather had been unbearably warm all week.
Why would anyone be wearing a sweater right now? It feels like July in here.
The next thing she noticed was how impossibly perfect the woman in the grey sweater’s jawline was. Robin was pretty sure she had seen marble statues with less perfectly chiseled complexions. Her mouth was suddenly very dry as she made brief eye contact with the goddess that had just floated into the room. She had to have been floating, Robin was certain there was no other explanation for how this woman could move so gracefully, weaving between groups of people as she traversed the crowded living room. She seemed to be headed toward the back door. Toward Robin.
If she stands next to me I’m going to melt. They’ll need to scrape me out of the carpet because I will be reduced to a fucking puddle. Poor Steve is going to have to learn how the Roomba works because I will simply cease to exist if I stand in her vicinity.
Robin made the very brave decision to extricate herself from the conversation she was having and duck into the kitchen, hoping it wasn’t too obvious that she was running away.
She knelt before the ice chest, taking her time searching for a drink. The coolness of the melting ice was welcome as she dug through the options. She could feel herself start to cool down a little and the static in her brain began to form itself into semi-coherent thoughts.
You can do this, Buckley. Beautiful women aren’t that scary. Or, they don’t need to be. You don’t need to act like they are. Even if talking to them is anxiety inducing. You just need to collect yourself and then you can go talk to her. Or you can not talk to her! It’s a random house party, the chances you see her again after this are slim. The chances you see her tonight, even, are slim. There are people everywhere. If you go and find Jonathan you probably won’t even see her again. You’ll be fine, everything’s gonna be great.
Her internal pep talk was cut short when she heard someone walk into the kitchen. She looked up and felt her heartbeat speed up again.
Shit .