Chapter Text
There was a before and an after in Robin’s life.
Well, technically, more than one. There was before having her first crush on a girl. Before having to get her first job when her dad forced her to. There was before experiencing Russian torture techniques and being drugged and before fighting an interdimensional monster that caused her job to then burn down to the ground.
But that wasn’t really how she saw it in her mind. Like how all roads led to Rome, her befores all led her to one thing. And that thing was more commonly known as Steve Harrington.
Her life hadn’t been the same since Steve ‘the Hair’ Harrington burst into her life. Of course, he had started as her rival in a non-existent battle to be noticed by Tammy Thompson but that wasn’t really relevant anymore.
At least, not as much as being trauma bonded to your coworker by being drugged in the basement of a mall. Because that was when the After part of her life really began.
It was weird, having to go back home after a life changing event. She didn’t know if her parents had even noticed her absence and she didn’t know if she wanted them to. After all, how was she supposed to explain everything that just happened?
The night of the explosion, she went home and climbed into her room by the window. She had left her keys in her locker back at Scoops Ahoy and somehow, hadn’t thought to check if they had survived the fire. She probably had more important things on her mind.
She biked back because, well that was how she got there the day she got trapped in the elevator and no one had really thought to make sure the weird girl in a matching outfit with Steve had a way to go back home.
Steve had offered to drive her but the paramedic had forbidden him to do it, given that one of his eyes was swollen shut and he definitely had multiple concussions. Robin didn’t know if it was possible to have more than one, but even if it wasn’t, she was pretty sure Steve would figure out how to.
So she biked home, slipped in her room in the dead of night and realized truly how exhausted she was. The adrenaline was wearing off and every joint in her body was hurting. She barely managed to strip out of that stupid sailor outfit before she collapsed into bed, ready to let slumber take over.
And then it didn’t come.
Her body was heavy as if her limbs had found their final resting place in the shape of a star on her bed and yet her mind was restless. Images of angry men yelling at her, the world tilting around her, a giant fucking monster and Billy Hargrove dying. But most recurrently, blood splatters on the floor, Steve taking a beating for her. Sitting on a bathroom floor and hidden truths being revealed under fluorescent lights.
Very little sleep came by that night. She laid frozen for what felt like hours and when her eyes would close on their own, flashes of what she had endured in the past 48 hours played like a scary movie she never wanted to watch again. One particular scene of an 18 year old boy being beaten to death for information he didn’t have replayed on a loop.
The next morning came slowly. Drifting in and out of sleep until she was alone in the house, she gave up and figured she’d just start the day.
Quickly, her eyes found themselves hovering over a phone number in the yellow pages before she even had breakfast. The Harrington last name was staring at her in italics and the tips of her fingers were itching to dial the numbers so she could hear Steve’s voice.
Here she was, a face free of injuries, and yet all she selfishly wanted was to hear his voice tell her that everything is okay, that things could and would go back to normal. It felt like the only thing that would be able to soothe the headache pressuring on her skull at the moment.
She hadn’t had a chance to talk to him after everything. The paramedics had wanted to bring him to the hospital for observation and when he wasn’t talking to an EMT, he was talking with Dustin or Erica.
She wondered if he was out of the hospital now, if he was in that big house that was empty most of the time. If he was holding a bag of frozen peas over his eye and staring at the ceiling like she did all night, alone.
They had reached a point in their working relationship where shifts together were bearable, the white board helping cure the boredom but they were certainly not anywhere near heartfelt confessions of how miserable home life could be.
But contrary to popular belief, she was a good listener and between the lines of one too many jokes, it had been easy to guess Steve’s parents were not the most loving of their son. Or the most present.
It suddenly made a lot of sense why she started hearing about the infamous King Steve parties when she was as young as 14 years old, the boy in question being only a year older.
She grabbed the phone in the kitchen, even went as far as pushing the first three numbers but ended up slamming it down quickly after. Maybe he didn’t want to be near her right now. After all, the beating he got was to protect her.
And yeah, maybe they had a nice moment in the bathroom but they were high off their asses and while he didn’t think she was disgusting (which was a relief), it didn’t mean he wanted to be her friend. Maybe he didn’t need more reminders of what the investigation Dustin brought to their table put him through. He was probably going to have head injuries for the rest of his life, that was more than enough.
And she had seen the way Steve acted the way around Dustin, the way the younger boy told him “you die, I die”. Steve didn’t need another person to share intense trauma with that way.
She stepped away from the phone, her pulse still racing and figured she just had to keep herself busy. That shouldn’t be hard to do after a life altering situation, right?
After rearranging all the furniture in her room and then putting it all back the way it was, trying to read a book without success and making herself a meal that was at best mediocre, she gave up. The house was too quiet and she felt like she was going to suffocate any moment.
She was probably the most tired she had ever been but a part of her couldn't handle the nightmares that laid on the other side of her eyelids right now. She knew that as soon as she closed her eyes, it would all come back. She didn’t have the strength to deal with that yet. She wondered if she ever would.
Maybe that was her new reality now. She’d just never sleep again and she’d walk around school with dark bags under her eyes and people would whisper about it like they did to anyone different. They’d call her Zombie Girl like that boy with the bowl cut that somehow had to do with the giant monster they encountered last night.
Her eyes drifted back to the phone as she dumped the rest of her plate in the trash and sighed. It was a little after noon now and she still had at least 5 hours alone in this house before one of her parents came back and even then, they weren’t the people she enjoyed being around the most.
Screw it, she thought and dialed the number on the page that was still open on the kitchen table before she changed her mind. Someone picked up after 2 rings.
“Harrington residence,” a monotone voice came out of Steve’s mouth and it brought a smile on her face that she didn’t think would appear anytime soon.
“That’s very formal of you, dingus.”
“Robin,” he said in response, seemingly gaining life. “How you holding up?”
“As much as one can after what just happened to us last night. You?”
He breathed out a laugh. “Same.”
The call went silent and Robin found herself searching for something to say. Robin, who could talk to anyone about anything for hours, had a dry mouth and couldn’t think of one thing to contribute to make sure the conversation kept going. She desperately needed it to.
“Are your parents home?” Steve’s voice broke the silence.
“No, they're at work. You?”
“Out of town for the summer. Do you want to– uh, come over? You shouldn’t be alone after something like this.”
She let out a shaky breath at the words, tension leaving her shoulders and the corner of her lips curling up.
“What’s your address?”
After writing a quick note to her parents to let her know she had been with Chelsea from band who needed her help with something and she was going there again today, she grabbed the bike that had been haphazardly thrown by the side of her house last night and made her way to Loch Nora, the rich part of town that Robin had never had any reason to go to.
It was longer than she thought it’d be and by the time she stopped in front of the biggest house she’d ever seen, she was drenched in sweat. The realization that she still hadn’t taken a shower after everything hit her with disgust and she suddenly felt very ashamed that she was about to submit Steve to that. The four of them had been trapped in an elevator for a long time, she got used to everyone smelling pretty bad but still; she didn’t have an excuse to still smell like that today.
But the thought of going back home at this point was never going to cross her mind, not when she knew the only other person in the world who knew what she felt like was on the other side of that door.
She didn’t get the chance to knock, the door flying open as soon as she walked up the steps. It revealed a disheveled Steve, his usually perfect hair was untamed and his eye was still puffy, turning into an interesting mix of purple and red.
Robin’s heart finally slowed down.
“Come in,” he said, moving to the side and she noticed the way his eyes flickered behind her before closing the door.
Robin felt out of place instantly. She had heard so many things about the parties that were held here, legends of shotguns competitions and first-times were heard in every hallway at Hawkins High. But Robin had never been invited, wouldn’t have wanted to if she had been anyway because of her image of who Steve was at the time.
She imagined being here in the daytime was different. Right now, with the sun illuminating the rooms through their huge windows, the place looked fake. It was impersonal, like everything had been put where someone thought it would make the most sense. No pictures on the wall, no coats to be seen in the entryway, the only sign of life that could be seen at first glance was a bag of frozen corn on the coffee table in front of a stiff couch where a sad grey blanket was displayed.
“Do you want a tour or uh–” Steve said awkwardly and Robin realized she had been silently looking at everything for a beat too long.
“Can I take a shower?” came out of her mouth before she could stop it, before the words of her mother telling her she was impolite could echo in her mind.
Luckily Steve didn’t seem to care. He led her upstairs, through what she could only assume was his room. Plaid wallpapers covered the walls and a bed made like no one had slept in it for a long time. The connecting bathroom was just as shallow, a mere toothbrush and a bottle of cologne on the counter just to prove that someone did live here.
Robin felt a pang of sadness at the sight, she wasn’t sure why.
“You can use all my stuff,” he said, opening the shower curtain to reveal an intense collection of bath products. He made a move to leave only to be stopped by Robin’s hand grabbing his wrist.
They both looked at it in surprise, like neither of them expected it and Robin’s heartbeat spiked up once again, realizing that now that Steve was in front of her, she didn’t think she could let him out of her sight so soon.
She let go of his wrist to reveal the chafing on his skin from the tight ropes, the same one that she was sporting and an image of his lifeless body on the ground made her throat tighten.
“Can–” Her voice was hoarse and she avoided eye contact for the next few words. “Can you stay?”
“Uh…” he answered and she suddenly felt weird asking for it. They were only people that worked together a week ago and now she was asking him to stay while she took a shower? That was definitely odd and not a normal thing to ask someone.
She was about to tell him to forget about it when he nodded. “Yeah, of course.”
She met his eyes. “You sure?” He smiled kindly and she let out a breath. She looked around, not sure how to do this but she didn’t need to say a word. Steve turned around to let her get out of a pair of sweatpants and an old T-shirt that had holes in the armpits.
She almost let out a sound when the hot water hit her skin and she relaxed into it, letting herself imagine that she could clean yesterday off her body. She scrubbed her wrists in hopes of washing away the redness, and saw the water turn red at her feet from the dry blood still tangled in her hair. She replaced the sweat and tears of yesterday with Steve’s body wash and for what it was worth, it almost worked.
No words were spoken the whole time. Robin’s head peeked out of the curtains an embarrassing amount of time to make sure he was still here. Every time her eyes found Steve, sitting on the ground with his back leaned against the wall, drumming his fingers on the floor tiles. That image would last long enough for him to disappear from her vision for a few minutes without too much anxiety.
“I’m coming out so you better look away, creep.”
“Cree– you’re the one who wanted me there, you know,” he mumbled and she heard him get up.
She wrapped herself in the towel he had left her and stared at the back of his head like she had done so many times in Mrs Click’s class. Except this time, welcoming the sight instead of cursing it.
After settling downstairs, sitting down on the surprisingly comfortable leather couch, she wondered if this was the moment she realized Steve and her had nothing in common except a bloody sailor uniform and memories of Russian torture.
But it never came.
He talked about his hospital visit from last night (he had a mild concussion) and the “demodogs” from last year (what the hell was that about) and then the first fight he had with Billy Hargrove (that gave him another concussion). He told the story of the first monster he fought, back in Jonathan Byers’ house two years ago, even showed her the nail bat he still held onto in his car.
Then, they went through every subject. Why Steve had to get a job this summer, what brought Robin to create Operation Croissant, debated on which maths teacher was the worst and made a bet on how much time it would take for Steve’s eye to heal.
They were sitting on opposite sides of the sofa, their legs tangled in the middle. Robin’s feet would kick his calves when she got excited about a subject but he never made a move to change positions.
It felt nice to talk about other things than scooping ice cream or how they were going to get out of this Russian military base.
Steve made them some pasta that they ate in front of a random movie and it felt normal. It felt like what happened yesterday could be bearable if Steve was by her side.
She didn’t know she fell asleep until she woke up with a gasp. She could practically feel the cold skin on her fingers, the body of her friend laying in an endless sleep as she screamed his name.
It took her a long time to recognize where she was. The moon shining through the window was enough to distinguish shapes and she recognized the layout of Steve’s living room. She was still on the couch, a blanket had been draped on her and her back was sore from the position she had been laying in as she sat up to breathe.
She tried to put her feet on the ground but she was met with a big lump. She looked down and after rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, she found Steve in the same exact position she had left him in her dream.
She could hear her heartbeat pulsating in her ears as she extended a trembling hand towards him. She poked him on the shoulder and when he didn’t move, she lost all control of herself.
“Holy sh– Steve!” she shouted and suddenly she was shaking him, tears building up in her eyes. “Steve! Please wake up!” Robin’s fingers dug into his arms, unable to stop her movements.
“Please, please, please…” she cried out. Her vision was blurry and it was like no breath could reach her lungs anymore. “Steve! Wake up!”
“Robin!” Steve’s voice snapped her out of it and she realized he had been awake for a while now. He was on his knees in front of her and the final time he shouted her name had been accompanied by his hands on her cheeks.
The pleads disappeared in her throat at once and she forced her eyes open to maintain the eye contact he was holding with her. He was in front of her, his hands warm on her tear stained cheeks and he was alive.
“You’re okay, you’re okay,” he repeated but she wasn’t and she didn’t care, she needed him to be okay.
“You were–” she stammered, trying to keep the sobs inside. “You were–” She couldn’t even say the word.
“Hey. It’s okay. I’m here.”
She tried to shake her head but the hands held her firmly in place. She closed her eyes and breathed in hard.
“Robin, look at me.” She obeyed. “Look, I’m here.”
All she could do was stare at him, trying to let his calming voice soothe her. He pulled her in for a hug and it took a moment for her limbs to regain life, to be able to wrap her arms around his back. But when she felt his heartbeat against her chest and the faint scent of his cologne coming from his shirt, she allowed herself to melt into the embrace.
“You’re okay,” he whispered and she didn’t know how to tell him that she wouldn’t be okay ever again. Not when every time she closed her eyes, he ended up dead.
He broke away from her and she could finally see in the dark enough to see the lone decorative pillow on the ground and that he had pushed the coffee table enough to have space to lay next to the couch.
“Why were you sleeping on the floor?” she croaked out and he looked at his pathetic setup.
“Oh, I didn’t want to leave you alone down there, you know,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck.
A warmth filled her stomach and if she hadn’t been scared for his life two minutes ago, she probably would have made a joke about it. But now, it only felt good to hear the words.
“Do you want to go to sleep in my bed? It’ll be more comfortable,” he continued. She nodded and when he made a face as he straightened up, obviously in pain from how hard the floor was, she reached down to put the pillow back on the couch.
“Only if you come with me.”
He looked hesitant but his good eye was sporting a dangerously dark circle under it that told her he was just as exhausted as she was. He didn’t have the strength to argue so he simply led them back upstairs where they slipped under the covers of a king sized bed and they almost sighed of relief in synch.
“Goodnight Rob,” he mumbled into his pillow, already close to falling back asleep.
“Goodnight Stevie,” she muttered and it was only until she moved so her foot could touch the warm skin of his leg that she could follow him into slumber.