Archive of Our Own

After they save the world, they move to Chicago. 

It’s a fresh start, or at least, Robin hopes it’ll be. As callous as it might sound, she’d been ready to leave Hawkins behind even before her life there became so dangerous.

It’s not that she wanted to leave and forget it all; she couldn’t have, even if she wanted to. And there were things she didn’t want to forget — Steve, Dustin, Erica, Lucas, Max, her parents who were still in Hawkins…

But after the monsters were destroyed, she knew Hawkins contained too many bad memories for her to hope to make new ones that stuck, so…they left it behind. 

They started out in Indianapolis, where she and Steve moved two years after defeating Vecna. It was an okay place to live — their shitty apartment was just down the street from a really good sandwich place, and there was even a gay bar down the block. But it was still too close to home. They only stayed there a year and a half, and when Robin got her acceptance letter to the University of Chicago…well, the decision was made for them.

They’ve only been in the city for a month — their apartment is smaller and shittier, the traffic is terrible, and the barista at the coffee shop down the block seems to have a weird vendetta against Steve, and Robin by association.

And yet…Robin loves it.

Steve found a job pretty quickly, coaching basketball at the nearby middle school, but until classes start back up in the fall he’s working for the after-school program. The administration likes him so much they’re even offering to pay for classes at tech so he can get a teaching certificate. Steve had been kind of bashful when he told her about it, like it wasn’t a big deal, but Robin had gone out and bought him a drink to celebrate, anyway.

The downside to Steve’s job, however, is that it foils Robin’s usual plan of tagging along wherever Steve works. Not that she couldn’t get a job at the school if she wanted to, but seriously — like hell was she taking a job that involved basketball and/or middle schoolers.

She still needed a job, though. So she looked elsewhere, circling listings in the newspaper and carrying her resume around with her. When she found out the public library was looking for someone to work the Circulation desk part-time, it felt like a no-brainer. 

On her first day, the main thing Robin is surprised by is how big the library is. The library in Hawkins was tiny, with only one check-out desk, and it was the only one in town. She isn’t used to the miles and miles of shelves, the multiple floors, or the fact that there are over 75 other branches in the city of Chicago alone. 

“We used to be over on Michigan Avenue,” explains Robin’s new boss, Tammy, as she takes Robin on a tour around the building. “But we kind of outgrew that location, so they decided to build us a bigger one. We’ve only been open here a year, but wow, we love it. Isn’t it beautiful?”

“Yeah,” Robin says, a little awestruck as she gazes at her surroundings. “It’s so big, though. How do you not get lost?”

Tammy laughs. “You’ll get used to it.”

She shows Robin a little of what her daily job duties will consist of — emptying the book drop, checking books in and out, signing patrons up for library cards, and shelving books whenever they’re short-staffed. Then she goes around introducing Robin to the staff — the children’s librarians, the reference librarians, the janitors, the security guard, and more — as Robin frantically tries to commit their faces and names to memory.

“And these are gonna be the people you work with directly,” Tammy says as she leads Robin into the circulation workroom. “Since you’re part-time, your schedules might not overlap a whole lot, but we do get together after hours sometimes — work bonding, you know how it is — so you should get the chance to know everybody, at least. And lucky for you, you’ve got a great group here in Circ.” She leads Robin down the line of cubicles and workstations, stopping and introducing her to each employee. “This is Sarah, who you'll quickly learn is every patron's favorite staff member…that’s Susan, she’s retiring this summer…Marsha right there works Tuesday nights…” 

At last, they turn the corner to the end of the workroom, where a woman with shoulder-length red hair stands alone, stacking books into crates.

“And this is our newest hire!” Tammy says. “Well, until you, anyway. She just started here last month, so looks like you guys will be learning the ropes together.”

“Hey,” Robin says with a wave, and then the woman turns around, and Robin freezes.

The last time Robin saw Vickie was four years ago. It’d been after months of running into her in places she never should’ve been — at Max’s hospital, at the radio station, in the thick of the monster hunting. It was easy at first to pretend it was all a coincidence, because it was easier to run into people when you were all in lockdown together in the same small town. But then Vickie kept getting drawn further and further into Robin’s orbit, which meant she was getting further and further into harm’s way.

It all came to a head right before the final fight, when Robin cornered her. She'd told her that if she knew what was best for her, she’d get out while she still could. That none of them were there because they wanted to be, only because they had no choice. It was too late for them to go back, but it wasn’t too late for Vickie. She could leave right then and there, and no one would judge her for it. She could walk away unscathed, a luxury none of them could afford, a luxury she’d be stupid not to take. 

“I mean, why are you even still here?” Robin had said finally, terrified and unsure she’d still be alive in twenty-four hours.

And Vickie had looked at her, then burst out, “Why do you think?”

Robin never even got a chance to respond. Nancy Wheeler had burst in, rifle over her shoulder, announcing it was go time. Robin hadn’t even had time to think about it when she knew a distraction could mean someone getting killed. All she could do was focus on surviving, and hope there was time for everything else later.

The next time she’d seen Vickie, it was after it was all over. She spotted her from afar, covered in dirt and grime but still alive, tearfully reuniting with her parents. And for a moment, across the busy street, they’d locked eyes, and it’d been like the crowd between them disappeared. She still remembers how clear Vickie’s expression had been, even from so far away, even though there was something in it Robin couldn’t recognize. 

And then Steve had shown up, stumbling into the street and pulling Robin into a bone-crushing hug, the two of them weeping and rejoicing that they were both still alive, that they’d both made it.

When Steve finally pulled away and Robin looked down the street again, Vickie and her parents were gone.

It’d been the last time Robin had seen her. It’d been the last time she thought she’d ever see her again. 

So it doesn’t make sense that she’s seeing her here, now, four years later and over two hundred miles away.

For a moment, Vickie just stares at her, her eyes wide. Her bangs are shorter and her hair is longer, but her freckles are still the same — dotted across her face and nose like pepper sprinkled across paper.

Familiarly, Robin’s stomach twists.

“Robin,” Vickie says finally, in a quiet voice.

“Oh.” Tammy looks between them, surprised. “You know each other?”

Robin swallows and tears her gaze away from Vickie. “I — high school,” she manages. “We, uh, we went to high school together.”

“Oh, that’s right, you’re from Indiana,” Tammy says, clearly impervious to Robin’s internal crisis. “Well, what do you know? Small world.”

“Yeah,” Robin echoes in a voice that sounds hoarse. “Small world.”

Vickie doesn’t say anything.

Tammy glances between them again, then clears her throat. “Well, I’ll let the two of you catch up, and then you can meet me in my office in a few to sign some paperwork, okay, Robin?”

Oh God, no, please don’t leave me, Robin wants to say. But that would be a horrible thing to say to your boss on your first day of work, so instead, she just says, “Yep!”

When she walks away, Robin is left alone with Vickie in the corner of the workroom. The other employees are just around the corner, checking in books and typing on keyboards, but to Robin, it feels like they’re miles and miles away. It feels like it’s just her and Vickie, alone in a world that has momentarily stopped spinning. 

Robin coughs. “I didn’t realize you’d…” She trails off, stupidly, then finishes with, “Moved.”

Vickie coughs, too. “Yeah. Almost four years ago. I was a barista for a while and I hated it, so I got a job here instead and — well, anyway. I just…well. I couldn’t stay. Back home, I mean.”

“Right,” Robin says lamely.

Vickie looks down, continuing to stack books into the crate as she says, voice forcedly light, “So, when did you move?”

“Last month. Steve and I were in Indianapolis before that, but I got into UIC, and…” She trails off feebly again, then finishes with, “Well. Indianapolis was still too close to home.” 

“Yeah. I get that,” Vickie says quietly. “How, um, is Steve?”

Something in Robin's heart softens. “He’s good.”

“And…everyone else?”

Robin doesn’t talk to everyone else — just Dustin, Erica, Lucas, and Max — but she knows enough about them all to say, “They’re good, too, I think.”

“That’s good,” Vickie says. She looks up. “And…you?”

“What?” Robin says stupidly.

“How are you?”

Robin swallows. Right now, she feels close to having a meltdown, but in a general, everyday sense… “I’m good, too.”

“Okay,” Vickie says. The corner of her mouth ticks into something somewhat resembling a smile. “That’s good, too, then.”

Robin hopes it isn’t obvious that her face is getting red. “And…you? You’ve been good, too? Since…?”

“Yeah,” Vickie says. She lifts one shoulder in a shrug. “Trying to be, anyway.”

“Yeah,” Robin echoes softly. “Makes sense.”

They fall silent again. Robin opens her mouth to say…what, exactly? That she’s sorry this is so awkward? That she hated how they ended things, but when she tried looking her up back in Hawkins, she had to give up when she realized she had no way of finding her? That she’s thought about Vickie constantly since the last time she saw her? 

Okay, no, definitely not that last one. But none of the others sound good, either, and the longer the silence stretches, the more impossible it feels to say anything at all. Vickie must sense this feeling from Robin, too, because her mouth twists and she looks away.

“Well, anyway. I should let you get to Tammy’s office. But it’s…” She looks back up, her blue eyes suddenly round, her expression suddenly genuine. “It was really good to see you, Robin. Seriously.”

And then she walks off, the crate of books in her arms, without another word.

For a moment, Robin just stands there, like an idiot. She wonders how this is her life — how the girl she never thought she’d see again managed to end up not only in the same city as her, but at the same job. She can’t decide if this is a nightmare or a dream come true, or both.

Given how awkwardly their first conversation in four years went, she’s leaning more toward nightmare.

She tells herself it’s not a big deal. It’s not like Vickie is her ex, or anything. Vickie isn’t her anything. She probably never would’ve been, even if things had been different. At least now, they have the possibility of becoming friends.

And if not…well, this is a big library, after all. Maybe they won’t run into each other at all. 

In June, they run into, of all people, Nancy Wheeler and Jonathan Byers.

Robin supposes she shouldn’t be so surprised, especially given it isn’t the first time she realized she and Steve weren’t the only ones who had the idea to settle down here.

Who’s next? She can’t help but wonder wryly. Argyle? Tammy Thompson? The list of possibilities goes on and on. 

Still, it’s jarring to see them both, especially after so many years. Nancy’s hair has gotten longer, still curly but no longer permed, and Jonathan is no longer sporting that awful bowl cut from high school. They look good, Robin thinks, and even though it was kind of awkward to run into them out of the blue, Robin asks for their phone number, anyway. They were all friends, after all — kind of, anyway. Especially in that last year, when Hawkins was in lockdown. They survived the impossible together, and after everything they’ve been through, it feels important, maybe even necessary, to be in each other’s lives. 

And as it turns out, Nancy and Jonathan are surprisingly fun to hang out with. There was some initial awkwardness the first time they all got together — unavoidable, maybe, given the history — but to Robin’s relief, they blew past it pretty quickly. Evidently, Nancy and Jonathan don’t have any other friends, either, so they almost always say yes when Steve or Robin invites them to a movie or a farmer’s market or to their apartment to hang out.

The thing is, Robin has never really had many friends aside from Steve. Not just because they were so codependent it was unnecessary to let anyone else into their circle, but because no one else understood. Apart from Steve, no one knew why she didn’t like fireworks or needles, or why she avoided trees with those thick, dark roots that grew above ground. It was nice, honestly, finally having someone else who just…got it.

Sure, she'd been a little worried about Steve, given his past relationship with Nancy. But they really had been friends while Hawkins was under lockdown, even though Nancy was still with Jonathan. Besides, Steve and Nancy dated a long time ago, and Steve has dated plenty since. When they lived in Indianapolis for a year, he’d been with several girls, plus that one guy from the gay bar he’d hooked up with on and off for a while. None of those relationships had been serious, sure, but Steve had dated. 

And anyway, after that first outing, there hasn’t been any sense of discomfort or animosity between Steve and Nancy. It’s ironic — their relationship is not the kind of relationship you’d expect between two exes. It seems like Nancy is almost always smiling or laughing when Steve is around, even if half the time her smile is exasperated. And Steve has a weird knack for reading Nancy’s thoughts based on nothing other than the way she raises her eyebrows. Even Jonathan gets along with Steve, to Robin’s surprise; Steve is almost always teasing him, and Jonathan is almost always letting himself be teased, rolling his eyes but usually failing to bite back a smile.

The point is, whatever went down in Hawkins, it’s obvious they’ve moved on. Not just Steve, but all three of them.

After all — Robin should know. 

But then, at the end of July…there’s a moment.

It happens at Robin and Steve’s apartment. Nancy and Jonathan are over, and the four of them are sitting in a circle on the living room floor, playing some card game they’d found in the hall closet, when Jonathan makes a joke under his breath and Nancy ducks her face into his shoulder and laughs.

Usually, the two of them aren’t prone to public displays of affection. But they’ve been dating for years, which means that things like casual touch have become so common, that they probably rarely realize they’re doing it. Robin barely notices as Jonathan smiles at Nancy’s giggling, as he tucks her hair behind her ear after she draws away, as she beams up at him afterward. 

But Robin does notice Steve.

She notices him only by accident — if she hadn’t happened to glance over at him at the right moment, she wouldn’t have seen it at all. But she does see it: the way Steve stares at Nancy and Jonathan like he’s been punched in the gut, the look of open, unadulterated longing splashed across his face.

It only lasts a second or two, maybe even less. Nancy and Jonathan certainly don’t notice it. Instead, Nancy’s attention returns to her cards, and when she lays one from her hand and raises her eyebrows at Steve, he groans on cue, drawing four cards from the deck while grumbling under his breath, like nothing had even happened.  

So Robin pretends nothing happened, too. Of course she does — it’s not like she could say anything in front of Nancy and Jonathan. She waits instead until they’ve left to say, “Hey, can I ask you something?”

Steve barely looks up from the deck of cards he’s shuffling. “Shoot.”

Robin takes a deep breath. “When were you going to tell me you still have feelings for Nancy?”

Steve’s hands freeze mid-shuffle. Several of the cards scatter across the carpet, and he ducks his head to pick them up.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says evenly.

“Steve.”

“Robin — ”

“I’m not an idiot, dingus. I have eyes.”

Steve looks to the side and chews his lip, his thumbs drumming the card stack in his hands.  

“Okay, look,” he says finally. “It’s not what you think.”

Robin jumps up. “I knew it!” 

“Robin — ”

“Steve! Seriously? C’mon, I thought we were over this!”

“I was — ”

“You dated so much when we were in Indianapolis! I thought you’d totally moved on from her! And if I’d known you hadn’t, obviously I never would’ve suggested all of us hang out — ”

“I kinda feel like if you’d just let me explain — ”

“But here I am, prolonging your heartache without even realizing it…oh my God, I can’t believe this. I mean, seriously, why couldn’t you have just told me you still had feelings for her?” 

“Because,” Steve bursts out. “It’s not just Nancy, alright?”

Robin falters. “What?”

Steve swallows. He lowers his eyes. Then he says, very quietly, “I don’t just have feelings for Nancy.”

A beat passes.

“Oh,” Robin says. Then her eyes widen. “Oh.”

Steve sighs, long and loud. “Yeah.”

Robin blinks, her mind reeling as she stares down at Steve, who still won’t meet her eyes. Then she finally drops back down to the carpet and says, “What the hell, since when?”

Steve makes a face. “You really don’t want to know.”

“Steve. Come on.”

Steve sighs again. “Okay, fine. Do you remember how I told you about the demogorgon that tore through the Byers’ house junior year — ”

“Since junior year?” Robin screeches, jumping to her feet again. 

“I told you you didn’t want to know!”

Robin begins to pace. “Okay, okay, back up. Didn’t you date Nancy for like an entire year after that? Before she got with Jonathan?”

“Yeah, obviously — ” 

“And what about spring break when we were in the Upside Down and you confessed your undying love for her, or whatever?”

“I thought we were going to die, Robin! I only had time to get the main point across! It didn’t exactly seem like a great time to mention I’d been wanting to join her and her boyfriend’s relationship for three fucking years!”

“Might’ve helped your case,” Robin mutters. 

“Hey!”

Robin mulls this over for a long time, chewing her bottom lip. She remembers all those moments years ago when she’d watched Steve watching Nancy and Jonathan with jealousy — Nancy hugging Jonathan when he returned from California, Nancy joining Jonathan for patrols during lockdown — and realizes it doesn’t take much altering to imagine Steve might’ve been jealous not just of Jonathan, but of Nancy, too. Now that she’s thinking about it, there have even been a few charged moments between the three of them in this past month, too — like when Nancy had briefly fallen asleep on Steve’s shoulder during a movie night, or the look on Steve’s face when he realized Jonathan had his coffee order perfectly memorized. And honestly, come to mention it, the guy from the gay bar in Indianapolis that Steve hooked up with on and off had a haircut that was vaguely bowl-shaped, and — 

Oh, God, Robin realizes. The signs have been there for a long time. 

Finally, she sighs and sits on the carpet across from Steve, crossing her legs in front of her. 

“Alright,” she says. “Do you want my honest opinion?”

“Um, no,” Steve says, very petulantly. 

Robin ignores him. She thinks about how stiff and straight-laced Nancy Wheeler smiles so brightly whenever Steve’s around. She thinks about how she had a math class with Jonathan her freshman year and never heard him speak once, but only a little prodding and teasing from Steve can get him talking about movies or music or just about anything else. Then she says, “I think you’ve got a real shot with them.”

Steve blinks. A look crosses his face that Robin doesn’t think she’s ever seen before, something fragile and genuine and nearly hopeful, before he looks away and mumbles, “You’re just saying that.” 

“I’m not! Come on, surely you’ve seen the way Nance looks at you sometimes. Like you’re — I don’t know, a piece of meat, or something — ”

“Robin,” Steve groans, shoving her.

“Jonathan…is a bit harder to read,” Robin acknowledges. “But I don’t know. I think there’s a possibility he might like you, too.”

Steve hesitates. “You really think so?” He asks quietly.

“Yeah, actually. I do,” Robin says. “But take it with a grain of salt, because my love life is a trainwreck. I really should not be in the position to dole out advice.”

“Robin,” Steve says incredulously. “C’mon, still?” 

Robin sighs. She’d told Steve about her run-in with Vickie the same day it’d happened, and after she’d told him everything, he ordered a large pizza, and then went out and bought a bottle of wine for them to drown her problems in.

But then he’d tried to be encouraging about the whole thing. Like all of this was a sign, or fate, or something. 

Robin wished she was optimistic enough to believe him.

It’s been just over a month since her first day at the library, and Robin’s hopes that she might be able to avoid Vickie were dashed very early on. She sees her almost every shift, and yet, it’s almost always in passing. They’re hardly ever at the desk or in the workroom at the same time, and their interactions always feel stiff no matter how hard Robin tries to seem friendly and approachable and normal. 

It would help, probably, if the sight of Vickie in a linen dress, her bangs hanging in her eyes as she writes check-out dates in her neat penmanship, didn’t make Robin’s traitorous heart clench every time. 

“I don’t know why you don’t just talk to her,” Steve says now. “Vickie is, like, the one that got away. I mean, the world is literally handing you what you want on a silver platter.”

“Urgh,” Robin says, pressing her face into her hands. “It isn’t that simple, alright? We’re, like, coworkers. And it’s been four years! I don’t even know if she even liked me back then — ”

“Oh my God, she put herself in danger and fought monsters because of you! Like that isn’t the definition of romance.” He kicks her foot with his. “And here you are, wasting it!” 

“Ow,” Robin says, pulling her leg away. “Would you quit it? Maybe I’m just…working up to talk to her.”

“And it’s taking you an entire month?”

“Have you met me?” 

Steve sighs. “God. We’re both totally screwed, aren’t we?”

Robin sighs, too. “Yep. Totally helpless.” 

They lapse into silence for a moment.

“Okay, but seriously,” Robin says. “Jonathan Byers?”

Steve groans. “I knew you were gonna be like this.”

“Hey, I’m not judging — ”

“You so are!”

“ — but after all the shit you’ve given me about my taste in women…”

“Oh my God, would you stop?” Steve lowers his hands. “C’mon, Jonathan’s…yeah, maybe he doesn’t seem like he’d be my type, but he’s so…like, loyal, you know? He really cares about people. Just, you know, only a select few of them. And he knows all these things about movies and music if you really get him going, and those pictures he takes are always — ” He notices the expression on Robin’s face then suddenly stops. “What the hell’s that look for?”

Robin shakes her head. “Oh, dingus. You’ve got it bad, huh?”

Steve’s face goes a brilliant red as he shoves her. “Oh, shut up.” 

Robin falls back against the floor, still laughing.

A month passes. Robin finally tries deep-dish pizza — “It’s like pizza, but more,” Steve had said in astonishment after eating half his slice — determines exactly what time she needs to board the train so she isn’t late to work, and drags Steve to a musical at the Chicago Theatre. She visits the Bean, she figures out an approximation of the schedule of the barista that hates her and Steve so they can avoid her, and they adopt a terrier mix from the pound named Toby that they spend their Saturdays taking to the park.  

And still, things with Vickie are just as awkward as they were before. 

The good news is, Robin loves her job otherwise. Most of her coworkers are at least two decades older than her, but all of them are pretty cool. They give great book recommendations and they’re always complimenting Robin’s outfits, even though her vests and corduroy pants don’t quite fit the same dress code as the other ladies’ dresses and skirts. 

As for the library patrons, some of them can be frustrating, but Robin likes most of them, too. The retired ladies who attend library book clubs love to tell her the juicy details of the mass-market paperbacks with scantily clad men on the cover, and the kids love to prattle on about their picture books or the newest book in The Baby-Sitters Club series. Last week, two teen girls had approached the desk with a copy of The Haunting of Hill House, and Robin wouldn’t have thought anything of it if not for the polite, too-careful distance apart they stood from each other, and the nervous expressions on their faces. So when she’d printed their check-out receipt and placed the book in a paper bag, she’d leaned forward and murmured, “That’s one of my favorites.”

The smiles on their faces had been worth it.

So yes, she likes her job. She’d never tell Steve, but if she’s being honest, the Chicago Public Library is probably the best job she’s ever had.

Or at least, it might be, if things weren’t so awkward with Vickie. 

Nothing’s changed. She sees Vickie in passing — as they cross paths in the workroom or break room, as they’re trading off shifts covering the Circ desk — they meet eyes, and then one or both of them quickly dart their gazes away. When they do speak — to ask where something is, or to exchange the holds list, or something like that — it’s stiff, overly cordial, and so, so awkward. 

It’s gotten so bad that one of Robin’s coworkers even asks her about it. “Do you not like her, or something?” Marsha says one day as they’re checking in holds.

Robin’s so startled she almost drops her book. “What?”

“Vickie,” Marsha clarifies, and Robin instantly feels her face go hot. “You guys just seem kind of weird around each other.” 

It’s frank and to-the-point, but that’s just how Marsha is. She’s chatty, and very friendly, but she doesn’t beat around the bush. Ordinarily, Robin likes that about her. Right now? Not so much.

“No, no, it’s not that. I — ” Like her, Robin means to say, but she isn’t sure if she can say it without her face revealing too much, so she trails off and clears her throat. “Things are just kind of awkward, because we went to high school together.”

“No kidding? Wow, small world. Where’d you go?”

“Oh, um. Greenfield, in Indiana,” Robin lies. 

She doesn’t tell people she’s from Hawkins, if she can help it. On the rare occasions she does, it instantly turns into a thing. “Oh my God, that town that went under lockdown?” “Were you there during the earthquake?” “What even happened there, anyway?” It’s easier to lie, Robin’s learned. It protects more people that way. The only people in Chicago that know are Tammy, who saw it on Robin’s application, the UIC admissions department, and Steve, Nancy, and Jonathan.

Well. And Vickie. Obviously.

“So, you just didn’t get along in high school, then?” Marsha asks now.

“No, no, nothing like that,” Robin says quickly. God, she never should’ve said anything. Now the entire library is going to think Vickie was Robin’s high school bully, or something. “Just…I guess it’s weird running into people you used to know. You know?”

Actually, Marsha probably doesn’t know, because she seems like the kind of person who never meets a stranger, but she graciously doesn’t say this. Instead, she shrugs and says, “I guess so.”

Not long after that, a patron approaches the Circ desk, and thankfully, the subject is dropped.

As much as she wanted to avoid Vickie in the beginning, Robin almost wishes they did have an opportunity to talk, instead of being stuck meeting in passing. Maybe then things wouldn’t feel so stiff. But what would she even say? How could she say anything, when the mere sight of Vickie has always tied Robin’s stomach in knots?

She spends a lot of time ruminating these existential questions as she shelves books. They’re the exact questions she’s ruminating on a Thursday morning when she glances up from her shelving cart and spots Vickie in the Fiction section with a man who looks like he’s in his twenties. They’re talking quietly, but Robin’s a few shelves too far away to hear what they’re saying. And when the man takes a small step closer to her, Robin quickly drops her gaze, her throat going tight.

It’s none of her business. Vickie can talk to whoever she wants. Robin has no right to feel any certain way about it.

She tries to tell herself this as she turns back to her shelving cart, but she’s interrupted by the man’s voice raising, just slightly but still loud enough for Robin to make out the words, “C’mon, I don’t bite — ”

Robin pauses. She drifts closer to the shelves, trying to eavesdrop without making it obvious.

Vickie’s talking now, in a polite, customer-service kind of voice. 

“Well, what time’s your break, then?” The man responds. 

“I don’t think…” Vickie starts before her voice fades out, and though she’s still using a customer-service voice, Robin can hear the strain in it. 

Robin abandons her shelving cart, moving toward the Fiction section so quickly she doesn’t realize she’s done it until she’s standing in the middle of the aisle Vickie and the man are standing in.

“Hey, Vickie,” Robin says loudly.

Vickie jumps, turning toward her. The man turns to Robin, too, looking confused to see her there, like her badge doesn’t clearly indicate she works here. 

“Robin,” Vickie says, and it’s impossible to dismiss the relief in her voice. “Hi.”

“Everything okay here?” She says, and though she keeps her tone casual, she lets her gaze harden as she turns it on the other man. “Need any help finding something?” 

“No, I think we’re okay,” the man says, still looking confused.

Robin pastes a smile on her face. “Well, I hate to interrupt, but Vickie, Tammy needs your help with something downstairs. Do you have a second?”

“Yeah,” Vickie says, her voice carefully casual, too. “Of course. I’ll head right there.” 

Robin waits until Vickie’s walked past her to follow, giving the man one last sharp look before he scoffs and walks away. She joins Vickie again on the stairs, placing a hand on her arm in attempt to catch up. Vickie’s wearing a short-sleeved blouse today, and her skin is warm beneath Robin’s palm. She goes still at the touch, her eyes darting up, and Robin swallows and quickly withdraws her hand.

“Sorry,” Robin says. She glances up the stairs, but the man is nowhere in sight. She turns back to Vickie. “You okay?” 

Vickie blows out a breath. “Yeah. I think he was harmless, mostly, but…better safe than sorry.”

Robin scoffs. “Yeah, well, he looked like a creep to me.”

Vickie snorts, the corner of her mouth tugging into a smile. “Yeah. Maybe. Regardless…thanks. Seriously, I really owe you one.”

“You don’t owe me anything. You’d do the same for me, right?”

It comes out wrong. It sounds too intense. It isn’t even what Robin meant to say — she’d wanted to keep it casual, to say something like, You’d do the same for anyone else. She didn’t mean to be so direct, so specific.

But Vickie just looks at her. “You know I would.”

Robin blinks, opens her mouth —

“Hey, you guys,” their coworker Sarah says suddenly, rushing up the stairs, and Robin jumps. “We’re swamped at the desk right now, could I get some help?”

“Sure,” Vickie says, before Robin can say anything, her voice even and casual. “No problem.”

“Thanks,” Sarah says in relief.

Vickie follows Sarah down the stairs without a backward glance, leaving Robin alone to stare after her. 

The week before classes start, Robin goes home to celebrate her mom’s birthday.

Her 50th is on Tuesday, but the big celebration is planned for the weekend and Robin’s dad is inviting over some extended family and her mom’s friends for a cookout in the backyard, even though her mom swore up and down she didn’t want a party.

And even though Robin loves her mom — really, she does — she’s fully planning on escaping back to Chicago early Saturday morning with the excuse of preparing for classes on Monday.

It’s more or less true, anyway.

Besides, Robin figured the important thing was being there on the actual day commemorating her mother’s birth, which they celebrate by eating a nice dinner in the dining room that’s only ever used when they have company over. And while her dad is slicing up the steak, Robin gives her mom her gift: a new set of potholders with a Scottie dog pattern on it — because Jill Buckley has always been obsessed with the breed, despite their family never owning one, or any dogs, period — and the blanket she spent the summer crocheting.

Her mom, of course, tears up, even though she swore she didn’t want any presents this year, either. 

Robin has just finished her steak — less chewy than the one Dad made last year, she must begrudgingly admit — when the phone in the living room rings.

They all ignore it. As her dad always insists, “Dinner time is family time.” But then a few minutes later the phone rings again, and then again a couple of minutes after that, and Mom lets out a heavy sigh.

“It’s probably Marge from up the street wishing me a happy birthday,” she says. “Rob, will you go answer it and say I’ll call them back later?” 

Robin dutifully heads toward the living room to pick up the phone and says, “Buckley residence.” 

A familiar voice that is decidedly not Marge shouts, “THEY ASKED ME OUT!”

Robin jolts, surprised. “Wh— is this Steve?”

Steve lets out an aggravated scoff. “Of course it’s Steve, who else would it be?”

“You do realize this is my family’s phone, right?” Robin says, unimpressed. “What would you do if I hadn’t answered?” 

Steve ignores this comment completely. “Robin, are you even listening to me right now? They! Asked! Me! Out!!!”

“Who?”

“Nancy and Jonathan!”

Robin nearly drops the phone. “Holy shit! Are you serious?”

“Yes, I’m serious!” 

“Okay, okay, hang on.” Robin distractedly moves toward the couch, the handset cord stretching out until she drops onto a cushion and pulls the phone closer. “Alright. Tell me everything.” 

Steve takes a deep breath. “So, Nance called to tell me there was a new Italian restaurant opening this weekend that she and Jonathan wanted to go to on Friday night, then she asked if I wanted to go, too, and I said yes, obviously. Then we agreed on a time and then she said, and I quote, ‘Alright, it’s a date, then.’”

“Holy shit!”

“I fucking know!”

“And you’re sure she meant it as a date? You know, like, a date date?”

“That’s how she said it.”

“Oh my God — and Jonathan? He’s okay with all this?” 

“It was just Nance on the phone but — yeah. I mean, he’ll be there, so I think…yeah.” He pauses, then says, voice sounding distant, “Oh my God. Oh my God. What do I do?”

Robin blinks. “What do you mean, what do you do?”

“I mean, I’m going on a date with Nancy and Jonathan,” Steve says. “What do I wear? What if I fucking — blow it?!”

“Hey, come on, don’t spiral.”

“It’s too late,” Steve groans, and Robin can easily picture him face-planted into their couch with the phone cradled underneath his chin. “Oh my God, what if it’s a disaster? What if it’s super awkward and they realize they’ve made a mistake — ” 

“Stop that!” Robin says. Then she realizes she’s snapping and lowers her tone into something more soothing. “Listen. It won’t be awkward, they aren’t making a mistake, and you aren’t going to blow it.”

“But what if I do?”

“Steve. Seriously? Come on, you guys are friends. Why are you so freaked out? You’ve been on millions of first dates.”

“Yeah, but not ones that mattered.”

“I thought you’d be happy about this. Haven’t you been waiting for this for…oh, I don’t know, eight entire years?”

“Don’t remind me how long it’s been, are you kidding? You’re making it worse!”

“Oh my God,” Robin mutters. “Steve. You’re going to be fine. Okay?”

Steve hesitates, like he’s debating the merits of arguing with her again. Then he takes a deep breath, then lets it out. “Yeah. Okay.”

“It’s going to be an amazing date,” Robin says soothingly. “You’re going to have an amazing time. And they’re going to love you, because honestly, they probably already do. Okay?”

“Alright, alright, I wouldn’t go that far,” Steve mutters.

Robin rolls her eyes and then glances toward the dining room. “Listen, I’ve gotta go. But call and tell me everything after the date, okay? Or I’ll be back on Saturday morning if you want to tell me then — ” 

“Yeah, no, there’s no way I can wait that long.”

Robin snorts. “Alright, fine, I’ll make sure the line isn’t busy Friday night. And Steve?”

“Yeah?”

Robin lets herself smile. “I’m really happy for you. Seriously.”

“Thanks, Rob,” Steve says, and she can hear the soft fondness in his voice. “Tell Jill I said happy birthday, alright?”

“Sure. Maybe that’ll soften the blow of you interrupting her family birthday dinner.” Then she softens her voice, too, and says, “I love you. You’ve got this, okay?”

“I hope so,” Steve sighs. “Love you, too.”

“Was that Marge?” Mom asks when Robin returns to the dining room to take her seat.

“No, it was Steve,” Robin answers.

Dad snorts. “Of course it was.” 

Robin takes a bite of her mashed potatoes. “He says happy birthday, by the way.” 

“Well, when he inevitably calls again in the next twenty-four hours, tell him thank you,” Mom says. Then she pauses. “Rob…are you sure you two aren’t — ”

“Mom,” Robin says, her face growing warm. “Yes, I’m sure.”

Mom raises her hands defensively. “Alright, alright. Just checking. Again.”

“We’re just friends,” Robin tells her parents, for probably the millionth time. Then, for proof, she adds, “Actually, the reason he called was he wanted to tell me he’s going on a date on Friday.”

“Oh?” Dad says. “Good man.” 

“And who’s the lucky lady?” Mom asks.

Robin swallows a bite of mashed potatoes. “Oh, um. Just…one of our friends.” 

“And how about you, Robbie?” Her dad asks. “Finally met a nice man up in Chicago yet?” 

And the thing is, Robin likes her parents. Her dad is quiet if a little absent-minded, and her mom isn’t her best friend the way some girls gush about, but they’re both good people. They give a dollar to the homeless when they pass them in the city, they recycle, and they didn’t even vote for Reagan — although, that’s mainly because they didn’t vote at all. Since Robin was a kid, her parents have always been the kind of people who claim they hate politics, and who never watch the news because it’s too depressing.

But still, her parents are good people. Robin likes her parents. She loves them, and what’s more, they love her, too. She knows that. She’s never had to question that.

And she’s terrified that one day she will. 

“No,” Robin says finally. “Not yet.” 

Then she forces a smile and takes another bite of mashed potatoes. 

Robin’s classes are overwhelming, but not necessarily difficult. She’s got five this semester and five next semester. They’re all regular intro level core classes, because she doesn’t know her major yet, but Nancy says most freshmen don’t declare until their second semester, anyway. Robin’s taking English 101, which is okay, Math 101, which she’d be failing if not for Nancy’s tutoring, and a couple of French and Spanish classes — intermediate, since she’d tested out of the intro classes. Her French professor’s kind of a hardass, but she likes her Spanish professor a lot. Robin’s even made a couple of friends in her Spanish class — the girl who sits in front of her who’s from North Carolina and majoring in Psychology, and her friend, a guy who sits to the left of Robin and says he has “no idea what the fuck he’s doing with his life.” They invite her to lunch or to the coffee shop on campus sometimes; once, they asked her to hang out over the weekend, and Robin felt like she was being invited into a secret club. 

They’re nice, though. She likes them. Honestly, they remind her a bit of her and Steve. 

The really difficult thing about college, though, is how busy Robin’s life suddenly feels now that it’s started. It always feels like she’s rushing between classes and work and back again, and the only free time she has otherwise is spent either doing homework or sleeping. She feels bad always turning down invitations to hang out with Steve, Nancy, and Jonathan, but honestly, with how wrapped up in each other they are right now, she isn’t sure they’ve even noticed.

She adjusts, though. She likes her classes, and she still likes her job. In the past couple of months, she’s learned a lot about the library’s quirks, such as:

1) There’s a specific patron who calls once a week and will only speak to Sarah, and if he’s told she’s not there, he hangs up.

2) Robin can get into most of the workrooms by entering a code on the keypad, but the janitor’s closet has a regular lock on it that’s only accessible by two specific keys — the janitor’s, and the copy that hangs in the Circ workroom. The door is also locked from both sides, so if you’re inside the janitor’s closet and let the door fall shut behind you without either of the keys in your possession, you’ll get locked in. 

3) In the break room, there’s a taxidermy eagle that’s perched on top of the cabinet over the sink, and no one can remember how it got there, but everyone’s too afraid of it to get rid of it. 

There are a lot more quirks, honestly, but Robin learns to love those, too. And as for things with Vickie…

Well, honestly, Robin isn’t sure what to make of how things are going with Vickie. 

They certainly aren’t as stiff with each other as they used to be, as though that interaction over the creepy patron thawed things out. Even Marsha’s noticed, though that doesn’t say much; Marsha notices everything. Still, things are...better. Vickie smiles at Robin whenever she sees her — tentative and small, but a smile all the same, and Robin always smiles back. They’ve even had several conversations since the creepy patron, and although most of them were in passing, it’s still progress.

Examples include: 

1) Two weeks ago, Vickie showed Robin where the Interlibrary Loan slips were.

2) That same week, Vickie asked to borrow a pen, and Robin gave her one. 

3) Last Monday, Vickie brought in homemade chocolate chip cookies, and after trying several, Robin complimented Vickie on them, and Vickie smiled and said thanks. 

4) Vickie had also quickly glanced away, but Robin noticed there’d been a flush dusting her cheeks as she had. 

5) Two days ago, Robin dropped a book in the Circ workroom, and Vickie bent down and picked it up.

6) When she’d handed the book back to Robin, their fingers brushed. 

7) Robin had taken the book and abruptly looked away. 

So, no, Robin doesn’t know what to make of it. That… charge that seems to be in the air between them, sometimes.

Half of her is convinced it’s all in her head. The other half of her — made up of long-buried optimism — is waiting for the fuse to blow.

It happens in August, about two months after Robin's first day at the library. The women’s room runs out of paper towels, and since the janitor’s on their break, Robin takes it upon herself to replace them. She’s around the corner of the closet, rummaging through the shelves, when she hears the door open again, and quickly spins around.

Vickie stands in the doorway, because of course she does.

“Oh,” she says in surprise. “Sorry, I didn’t realize anybody was in here. I just came in to grab some paper towels…the women’s room is out.”

Robin slowly holds up the roll of paper towels in her hand. 

"Ah," Vickie says after a pause. 

“Great minds think alike,” Robin says, meaning for it to sound light, but it sounds awkward even to her own ears. 

“Right,” Vickie says after another pause.

There’s a beat of silence, and then Robin tucks the paper towel roll under her arm. “I should probably get back to…”

“No, yeah, of course,” Vickie says. “It’s about time for me to clock out, anyway, I’ll just…” 

She turns around, twisting the knob and pushing the door, but nothing happens. 

“Um,” Vickie says.

Robin raises her eyebrows. “Everything okay?” 

“Yeah, I just…can’t get the door.”

“What do you — ” Robin stops. Then she suddenly recalls unlocking the closet door minutes earlier with the key from the Circ workroom, then letting it fall shut behind her, the key still in the lock, forgotten in Robin’s search for the paper towels. And when Vickie stepped inside the closet and let the door fall shut behind her, too…

Robin closes her eyes. “Oh, no.”

Panic lights up Vickie’s voice. “What?” 

Robin slowly opens her eyes, then says sheepishly, “I, uh…I think we’re locked in.” 

Vickie stares at her for a moment. “Shit,” she says. 

“But maybe not!” Robin says. “Here, let me try.”

She steps forward as Vickie moves to the side, but the space around the door is narrow, and Robin can feel Vickie's breath on her neck as she jiggles the knob.

The door still refuses to budge. 

“Shit,” Vickie says again. “Should we call for help?” 

They try — banging on the door and shouting for a few minutes — but it’s to no avail. It was a long shot, anyway; the janitor's closet is located in a corner of the basement workroom. It’s not accessible to patrons, and even staff don’t have much reason to use it, at least not regularly.

Vickie worries her lip between her teeth. “This is all my fault. I should never have shut the door. I wasn't thinking.”

Robin shakes her head. “No. It’s my fault. I’m the one who left the key in the lock.”

She can feel her hands start to sweat, so she shakes them out, swallowing hard. Vickie clearly notices because she says, “Okay, okay, let’s not panic. It’s not like we’re really stuck, right? Someone will find us eventually.” 

She’s right. It’s not like there’s any risk of them being left here to starve to death, or something. Eventually, someone will find them. 

But Robin isn’t scheduled to go back on the desk for another hour, which means no one will be expecting her until then. Vickie clocks out soon, which means no one is expecting her, either. There’s a storytime going on in Youth Services and a macrame program going on in Reference, which means most of the staff will be occupied for the foreseeable future. And the janitor is still on their break. By Robin’s best guess, it'll be at least an hour before anybody begins looking for them. 

And of all the people she had to get stuck with, it had to be Vickie. And in a closet, of all places. The universe is truly cruel. 

“Well,” Robin says finally. “Until then, we might as well make ourselves comfortable.”

The closet is pretty large, with rows and rows of shelves and several corners someone could hide away in. But when Robin sits down against one of the walls of shelves, Vickie takes the empty spot next to her. The wall in front of them is bare and concrete, and if Robin stares at it too long, it starts to look like the elevator shaft in the mall, like the hours she, Steve, Erica, and Dustin spent trapped there. So instead of looking at it, she tilts her head back, lets out a long, slow breath, and says, “If we get really desperate, there’s always the dumb waiter.”

Vickie eyes the corner of the room, where the dumb waiter used to carry up buckets and mops is located. “What, and have it crash under our weight and break  our necks?” 

“Hey, that’s what worker's comp is for.”

Vickie snorts, and against her better judgment, Robin cracks a small smile. 

They fall into silence again, so awkward that it’s suffocating, and the longer things stay quiet, the more Robin convinces herself the closet even smells like the mall’s elevator shaft, so she finally breaks the silence by blurting out, “So…Chicago?” 

Vickie turns to stare at Robin. “What?”

Robin’s face goes hot. “Sorry, I just meant — why Chicago? Like, what made you decide to move here?”

“Oh,” Vickie says. She shifts in her seat, struggling to get comfortable. “I don’t know. I mean, obviously, my parents left Hawkins right after…you know, everything. They got a house in Cleveland, and I stayed with them for a while, but I just wanted something…bigger, I guess. And Chicago was only five hours away, so, I left.” 

“Oh,” Robin echoes. She hadn’t known Vickie lived in Ohio. “Are your parents still there? In Cleveland, I mean?”

“Yeah. They’ll probably stay. I think they like it there.” Vickie glances over at her. “So, how about you?”

Robin blinks. “Huh?”

“Why Chicago?”

Robin shrugs. “Because it was where I got into school, I guess. Honestly, I wasn’t picky. I just couldn’t…” She trails off, then says quietly, “Well, I couldn’t stay.” 

“Yeah,” Vickie says softly. “Me neither.” She snorts wryly. “I don’t even tell people I’m from Hawkins if I can help it. The way people look at you, the questions they ask that you can’t answer…it’s easier for everyone if I just lie.” 

“I know what you mean,” Robin says. And she does. It feels surreal that she’s having this conversation — that she’s saying more than ten words at a time to Vickie, and that Vickie’s even listening to what she has to say. It’s like the cramped, dim space of the closet has dissolved the stiff, awkward wall between them and Robin’s inability to string a sentence together. “My friends at school don’t even know. I guess I could tell them, at some point, but I don’t know. It’s…easier being with people who already know.”

Vickie goes still. She glances at Robin, an unreadable expression on her face. “Yeah?”

Robin’s face heats. “I mean — like, Steve. And Nancy and Jonathan.” Sensing a perfect opportunity to change the subject, she adds quickly, “Did you know they were in Chicago, too, by the way?”

“Who, Nancy Wheeler and Jonathan Byers?” Vickie asks, as though they know any other Nancys or Jonathans. “No. How are they doing? Still together, I assume?” 

Robin clears her throat. “Um, yeah. Well. Technically.” Then she says quickly, “But they’re doing good. They don’t live too far away from me and Steve.” 

“Well,” Vickie says, slightly awkwardly. “That’s good, then.”

“Yeah,” Robin echoes, just as awkwardly. 

Another silence stretches between them, but this time, it’s Vickie who breaks it. “Do you ever think — ” She starts, then she stops.

Robin frowns. “What?”

But Vickie shakes her head, suddenly turning away. “Nothing.”

Robin’s heart skips a beat. “No, seriously. What?”

Vickie bites her lip. “Do you ever think…that it isn’t over?” 

Robin’s stomach clenches. She hears herself say, in a firm but distant voice, “No. It’s over.” 

Vickie looks away again. “I didn’t — I don’t mean the monsters. I just…well, sometimes I think about it. All those NDAs I signed, the government thrusting page after page into my face. It was like I was signing my life away. What if — I don’t know. What if they decide one day that our silence isn’t enough?” 

Robin stays quiet for a moment. Finally, she says quietly, “I guess I just — I can’t think like that. I’ve already been down that rabbit hole — God, I’ve been down that rabbit hole so many times. I spent every waking moment of the back half of high school waiting for monsters to eat me or the government to put me in witness protection, and I — I can’t just waste the rest of my life feeling that scared. It’s over. It has to be over. I have to — I want to just move on.” 

The room goes silent, like it’s been sucked completely of air. Vickie looks at her, her expression inscrutable, and suddenly, Robin can’t believe she just said any of that. She never talks like that. Even she and Steve don’t talk about this kind of stuff, unless one or both of them is really, really drunk. She’s worried that now she’s said too much, but when she opens her mouth to take it back, Vickie finally speaks. 

“Is that why you won’t talk to me?” Vickie says.

Robin’s mouth snaps shut. 

“What?” She says.

Vickie looks down, pulling at a loose string in the hem of her dress. “This whole time, I’ve been telling myself that had to be it. Because — we used to talk, back in high school, and afterward. We used to…” Her voice trails off, and she swallows, then says, “But now you look at me like…I don’t know, like you’re afraid of me. I thought it was because I reminded you of home and I — don’t get me wrong, I could’ve understood if that was why. But you just said you still talk to Steve, Nancy, and Jonathan, so…” 

Finally, she looks up, her expression determined — but there’s something else behind it, too. Something imploring, something hurt.

“So, what is it?” She finally says.

Robin swallows hard. Her heart is beating so loud she’s sure Vickie can hear it. Maybe the whole library can, and then she won’t have to answer Vickie at all, because someone will have found them and they’ll have finally been saved.

But the door to the closet remains shut, and Vickie is still waiting for an answer, so Robin looks down because maybe looking away will make saying the hard things easier.

“I… was scared,” Robin says very stiltedly. “Of you.”

Vickie’s eyes snap up.

“Not like that!” Robin says quickly. “I meant — Vickie, I didn’t think I’d ever see you again. Of course, I didn’t. And then come to find out we’re not only in the same city, we have the same job, and — and you’re still you!”

Vickie blinks. Her eyes have gone slightly wide, and Robin has to look away again, or else she’ll never get the rest of it out.

“So, yeah, I was scared,” Robin says. “Because I didn't think I'd see you again, so I had to just...just make my peace with blowing it the first time. But now here you are. Four years later. And I have to worry about blowing it all over again.”

And there it is. All of it, all out in the open, and there's nothing left to do but wait for Vickie to react. 

It feels just as terrifying as the millions of times Robin's imagined it. 

There’s a long, lengthy pause. Then Vickie’s brow furrows. “Blowing it?” She repeats.

“It’s an expression — ”

“I know what it means,” Vickie says dryly. “But Robin…you didn’t blow it.”

Robin scoffs. “Then you and I remember our last conversation very differently.”

Vickie blinks. 

“I think about it too, you know,” she finally says in a hushed voice.

Robin looks over at her.

“I think about it a lot,” she says. “About that moment before the big fight, what I could’ve done or said differently. But honestly…I mostly just think about what you said.”

Robin frowns. “What I said?”

“You wanted me to leave, before that last fight,” Vickie reminds her. Her mouth tugs into a wry grin. “You were pretty adamant about it, actually.” 

Robin looks away. “Yeah. I remember.”

“And I just kept asking myself,” Vickie says. “‘Why did she want me to leave so badly?’” 

“Because it was dangerous,” Robin says. “Because you didn’t have to do it. I was trying to tell you that you could just go back home, where it’d probably be safe.”

“But why?” Vickie presses. “Why would you have cared so much about that? Robin, we barely knew each other.”

There are millions of things Robin could say. Most of them would be believable, even. It surely wouldn’t be hard for Vickie to imagine that Robin was just being a good Samaritan, trying to keep as many people safe as she could while she and her friends tried to save the world. It wouldn’t be hard to convince Vickie that Robin’s reasoning was that the fewer people there were in danger, the fewer deaths they had on their hands. 

But Robin doesn’t say any of that. Instead, she turns to Vickie and says, “Why do you think?” 

For a moment, neither of them say anything. The closet, the library, the entire world — it all feels like it’s gone silent, like they’re the only two people left. A flush spreads across Vickie’s face, covering her cheeks, her nose, her freckles. Her mouth parts, but no sound comes out. When Robin swallows again, Vickie’s eyes track the movement, and then her gaze darts to Robin’s mouth, and then —

The closet door opens, and Robin slides away from Vickie so quickly it’s like she’s been burned.

“Oh!” says Jerry, the library janitor. “Hey, ladies! What are you two doing on the floor?”

“I — ” Robin stammers stupidly. “I — um, we — ”

“Oh, shit!” says Jerry, noticing the key stuck in the outside knob. “Did you get locked in here?”

“Uh,” Robin starts.

“We did, actually,” Vickie says primly, then she stands, brushing out her dress. “And looks like you’re our hero, because we were starting to give up hope of someone finding us.”

“Nah, someone would’ve found ya,” Jerry says, waving a hand. “And hey, if not, the good news is you would’ve lived at least another three days before the dehydration got ya.”

Vickie’s smile goes tight. Robin feels, hysterically, like laughing.

“Right,” Vickie says. “Well. Um. It’s a good thing that…didn’t happen.”

“You’re telling me!” Jerry says. “Anyway, I just came by to get some paper towels. Apparently, the women’s bathroom is out.”

“Yes,” Robin manages. “I’ve heard that.”

Vickie abruptly turns away, and Robin realizes a second later it’s because she’s trying to hide a laugh.

Jerry tucks a roll of paper towels under his arm. “Well, I’ll head on up. Lock up behind me, would you?” He grabs the key in the knob, passing it to Vickie, then turns back and winks at them. “Guess I better leave the door open for ya, huh?”

Then he walks off without an answer, the door propped behind him. 

“Well,” Robin says. “That was something.”

Vickie snorts, then extends a hand to help Robin to her feet. Robin stumbles into Vickie when she rises, then blushes and takes a step back, but Vickie doesn’t loosen her gentle grip around Robin's arm. 

“You know,” Vickie says suddenly. “I never thought we’d see each other again, either.”

Robin’s throat feels dry. “Yeah?”

Vickie nods. “I told myself the timing wasn't right. That that was just how life was, sometimes. You know?”

“Yeah,” Robin says quietly. “I know.”

“But here you are,” Vickie says. “And…honestly, it seems kind of stupid that life pushed us back together, and we’re not even taking advantage of it.”

Robin’s eyes flicker across Vickie’s face. She keeps her voice measured as she asks, “How do you suggest we take advantage of it?”

Vickie lets go of Robin’s arm and takes a small step back. “Are you free next Saturday?” 

“I…” Robin’s breath catches. She looks past Vickie, through the open doorway, but Jerry is long gone, and the hallway is completely empty. “Are you asking me…”

On a date, she wants to say. Are you asking me on a date. But Vickie’s face gives nothing away, and it’s not the kind of question Robin can bring herself to ask out loud at work, and —

Honestly, does it even matter when she already knows the answer?

“Yes,” she says finally. “Yes, I’m free Saturday.”

At last, Vickie’s face cracks into a small smile. 

“Well,” she says. “I’ll show you Saturday, then.” 

The thing about Steve dating Nancy and Jonathan is that he’s incredibly obnoxious about it.

They spend almost every second of their free time together, by the look of things. Steve often goes to their apartment after school, and there have been numerous times that Robin’s come home after work just to run into Nancy and Jonathan as they were leaving. Not only that, but every other sentence that comes out of Steve’s mouth seems to start with either Nancy or Jonathan’s name. It’s all, “Nancy’s story for the Tribune made the front page,” or “Jonathan made an amazing lasagna for dinner last night,” or “Nancy and Jonathan are thinking about growing tomatoes on their apartment’s balcony.” 

Robin should probably be more annoyed about it than she is. Not just because it’s obnoxious, but because it’d be pretty easy for her to feel left out. Technically, Steve has known them longer than he’s known Robin. She isn’t used to not being the person he spends all his time with, to not being the most important person in his life.

But perhaps pre-emptively sensing that Robin might start to feel replaced, Steve has been very good about carving out time for Robin, too. He rarely schedules things with Nancy and Jonathan when he knows Robin isn’t at school or work. Besides, Robin has her own new relationship to keep her busy, and honestly? It’s kind of hard to fault Steve for his honeymoon phase when he seems so damn happy about it.

Case in point: tonight, Robin brought home takeout so they could eat on the couch while they watched one of their trashy TV shows, and Steve spent the entire time talking about Jonathan: how he submitted more photos to the gallery he works at, how he invited Steve into the darkroom to watch him develop the photos, how fascinating it is to watch Jonathan work, blah, blah blah. It’s definitely annoying, given they’re talking about Jonathan Byers and not Ansel Adams. And yet as Steve talks, Robin feels a grin grow across her face anyway.

“The gallery’s putting them up on Friday, so I was thinking maybe this weekend I would…” Finally, Steve notices Robin’s expression, and his rambling slows to a stop. “What’s that look for?”

Robin sticks a bite of sweet and sour chicken into her mouth and sing-songs, “Oh, nothing.”

“Robin — ”

“No, seriously, it’s nothing. I just…I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this giddy.” 

Steve groans, shoving her arm, and Robin laughs.

“So,” she says, taking another bite. “Have you kissed him yet?” 

Steve’s face flushes as he mutters, “No, Robin.”

“What about Nancy?”

“Also no. C’mon, we’re taking things slow.”

Steve definitely doesn’t talk about Nancy and Jonathan like they’re taking things slow, but Robin graciously doesn’t point this out. Instead, she says, “Well, look, I’m happy for you and everything, but also, I’m gonna have to catch a rerun of this episode later, because you’ve been talking about Jonathan Byers through the entire thing.” 

Steve rolls his eyes. “Okay, fine, I can take a hint.” But evidently, he can’t, because not even five minutes later, he says, “Hey, you know what? We should go on a double date.”

Robin raises her eyebrows. 

“You know. Me, Nance, and Jonathan, and you and Vickie.”

Robin lifts her eyebrows even higher. “Does the term double date even apply when it’s five people instead of four?”

Steve blinks. “Huh. I hadn’t thought about that.” He seems to mull it over before he says, “Does it apply if the term is referring to the number of dates being doubled instead of the number of people?”

“Huh,” Robin echoes thoughtfully. “Maybe?”

“Well, whatever. The point is, we should do it. Nancy was talking about us doing laser tag this weekend, anyway. I don’t think they’d mind if you tagged along.” Then he grins. “Ha, tagged along. Get it, because — ”

“Yes, Steve, I get it,” Robin rolls her eyes, then says, “I don’t know. I’m not sure laser tag is Vickie’s thing.” 

In fairness, this is partially true. But what’s also true is that Robin is slightly nervous about the prospect of asking Vickie at all.

So far, they’ve only been on one date. An amazing, fantastic date, of course — Vickie had come up with all of it because she knew the city better than Robin did. They’d gone to a small bookstore and perused the aisles for at least an hour, both buying more books than they could justify purchasing. Then they’d gotten Italian for lunch just down the block and ate too many breadsticks. And then, hoping it wasn’t too obvious she didn’t want the date to end, Robin suggested they get ice cream, and Vickie ordered a strawberry cone and Robin ordered a snickerdoodle cone with marshmallows on top, and as they’d sat across from each other Vickie looked at Robin and said, “What’s that look on your face for?” And it was only then that Robin realized how hard she was smiling.

“Oh, nothing,” Robin said, quickly wiping the smile from her face with a shrug. “Just happy, I guess.”

She’d meant it to sound casual, almost like a joke, but it’d accidentally come out too genuine instead, and Robin had gone still until she saw Vickie start to smile, too.

“Yeah?” She said. “Me, too.”

Afterward, Robin drove Vickie back to her apartment and followed her up — to make sure she got in okay, of course — and they’d both hesitated at the doorstep, awkward and embarrassed and shy, until Vickie closed the gap and kissed her. 

It was chaste — just their mouths pressed briefly together, Vickie’s hands on Robin’s face and Robin’s hands tangling in Vickie’s hair — but it’d been enough to send a riot of butterflies fluttering around Robin’s stomach, anyway.

So, yes. They’d been on a date. An amazing date, an incredible date, the best date of Robin’s life. But still, it was just the one date. And a part of her is worried their relationship is too new for things like double dates. She’d never say it to Steve, but she’s honestly a little envious of how well his, Nancy, and Jonathan’s relationship is going after only a few weeks, despite its newness and its complicated history.

But Steve only scoffs and says, “What self-respecting bisexual doesn’t love laser tag?” 

Well, when he puts it like that…

Besides, if she’s honest? She kind of wants to see Steve with Nancy and Jonathan in action, if only to deduce if they’re just as nauseating in real life as she imagines.

Robin sighs. “Alright, fine. I’ll ask Vickie.”

But unfortunately, Robin is a chicken, and puts off asking Vickie until two days before the date. 

“You can say no,” Robin says hastily after she’s extended the invitation. “But Steve suggested it, and I thought it might be fun, so…”

“It does sound like fun,” Vickie says. They’re stamping books in the back office, and even though no one else is around, Robin had made sure the extended invitation would sound like a group hang-out and not the double date that only the two of them knew it was. “But I can’t go. I’m working Susan’s shift on Saturday.”  

“Oh,” Robin says, trying to hide her disappointment. “Well, that’s okay. No big deal.” 

“I wish you’d asked me earlier,” Vickie says. “I could’ve made sure I was free. But let me know the next time you want to do a double — I mean, the next time you guys want to do something. I’d love to come.”

The next time. Robin feels herself start to smile, then quickly bites down on it as she turns back to stamping books.

“Okay,” she says. “Sure. I will.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Vickie bite down on a smile, too. 

Robin quickly discovers that, in fact, Steve is even more nauseating with Nancy and Jonathan than she imagined.

His face lights up the second he spots them in the laser tag arena lobby. It’d be embarrassing, if not for the identical smiles on Nancy and Jonathan’s faces, too.

It doesn’t take her long to discover she’s horrible at laser tag. She figures the game has to be rigged, because she swears she keeps hitting the other players, and yet she’s failing to rack up any points. She finally just decides to go after Jonathan, because at least he’s an easy target — he’s almost as bad as she is — and because Steve and Nancy are so determined to keep targeting each other that going after either of them would be worthless. 

Nancy isn’t as intense about laser tag as Robin might’ve thought she’d be, though. Surprising, given that Nancy is kind of intense about everything. She’s deeply focused, sure, but she also seems to be having… fun. She giggles when Jonathan almost trips, cheers when she corners Robin in a tunnel, and positively shrieks with laughter when Jonathan goes after Steve and Steve tries to use Nancy as a shield. Robin has never heard Nancy Wheeler shriek. 

But Robin has to admit, it’s nice seeing her look so carefree. Unusual, yes, but nice. It occurs to her that this is a side of Nancy that possibly only Steve can pull out of her. A point which feels proven later, when the game is over and the four of them are standing beneath the scoreboard, Nancy watching Steve tease Jonathan with a fond smile on her face. 

And for the first time, Robin wonders if Steve isn’t the only one who’s been a lot happier lately. 

As soon as the thought crosses her mind, Nancy meets her eyes, and just as her brow creases in confusion, Robin quickly glances away.

Minutes later, when Robin’s picking up their plates of pizza from the concession stand, Nancy sidles up to her. “Hey,” Robin says, surprised.

“Figured you could use some help,” Nancy says.

Not a bad idea, with Robin’s clumsy track record. “Thanks,” she says and passes Nancy two of the plates she was attempting to juggle. As she grabs a fistful of napkins, she clears her throat. “So, you, Jonathan, and Steve, huh?”

“Yeah,” Nancy says after a pause, sounding a little wary. “What about us?”

“Nothing,” Robin says.

She’s not sure what makes her say what she says next. Maybe she says it just to contribute something to the conversation. Maybe she says it because she knows it’d embarrass Steve if he knew, and a part of her can’t resist teasing him even if he’s not physically present to be teased. Maybe she says it because she wants Nancy to know they have her seal of approval, or whatever.

Or maybe, she says it because she wants someone to know. Because she wants someone — wants Nancy, specifically — to see what she sees. Because she wants Nancy to realize how important this is, how careful she and Jonathan need to be with this. To realize how, despite its looks, Steve’s heart is fragile, and yet it couldn’t be more obvious that it already belongs to Nancy and Jonathan entirely.

Whatever the reason, Robin looks at Nancy and says seriously, “You and Jonathan make him really happy, you know.”

Nancy looks surprised. “What?” 

“Steve,” Robin says. “You and Jonathan make him really happy. You know that, don’t you?”

Nancy blinks. Her face looks slightly flushed. “I — of course I do.”

“Good,” Robin says. Her gaze moves past Nancy’s, and Nancy follows her line of sight back to the booth in the corner of the laser tag cafeteria. Jonathan and Steve are sitting across from each other, and Jonathan is chattering on about something as Steve listens with his chin propped in his hand, staring at Jonathan like he’d be content to sit there and listen to him all day. 

Abruptly, Nancy turns back to Robin. “You make him happy, too, you know,” Nancy says.

Now it’s Robin’s turn to feel surprised. She knows that already, of course. Steve makes her happy, too; she doesn’t even know what she’d do without him. She has nightmares about it sometimes — Steve dying because of the Russians, Steve getting killed by the Mindflayer. But the worst ones are the ones where his path never crosses with hers at all. The ones where Robin goes the rest of her life feeling miserable and lonely, and not even realizing it because she has no idea what she’s missing.

“I know,” Robin says finally, a little defensive and a lot perplexed. “But that’s different.”

Is Nancy telling her this because she feels bad taking up all of Steve’s time? Because she wants Robin to know their friendship is still important to Steve even though he’s in a relationship? She supposes its a nice gesture, but like she said, she already knew that. She and Steve aren’t so codependent on each other that she needs the reminder. Or, well, maybe they are a little bit, but —

Nancy frowns at her. “How is that — ”

“Guys!” Steve calls from the table, and Robin jumps. “Do you need help with the pizza? We’re starving!”

“Coming,” Robin calls back, and then she grabs her plate of pizza and fistful of napkins and heads toward the table, Nancy following behind after a moment.

Robin thinks about pulling Nancy aside before the evening’s up, just to figure out what she was going to say, to figure out what she’s missing. But as soon as she sits down, Steve ropes her into whatever silly argument he’s having with Jonathan, and between that and bites of pizza that taste like microwaved plastic, Robin forgets about the conversation with Nancy entirely. 

“So, Nancy won laser tag?” Vickie asks, her elbow brushing Robin’s as they walk back to her apartment.

“Oh, yeah,” Robin says. “By a landslide. Hey, did you know Jonathan’s good at mini golf?”

Robin can tell Vickie’s trying to keep a straight face, but it’s given away by the skeptical way she says, “Jonathan…Byers?”

Robin snorts. “Right? He, Steve, and Nance went a few weeks ago and apparently, he blew them out of the water.”

“So Steve has a type.”

“Exactly what I told him.”

“Uh-huh.” Vickie grins. “And how did he take that?”

“Oh, you know Steve. He hates to hear the truth.” 

Vickie laughs, and Robin’s palm itches with the desire to reach out and hold her hand. It’s strange — she’s not usually one for physical affection, and definitely not for PDA, but in the moment, she just wants it, or at least, wants to know she could do it. 

But they’re in the middle of a crowded street, so instead, Robin settles on letting her elbow knock against Vickie’s again. 

They’re walking back to Robin’s apartment after their…third? Fourth? Date. They’d gone to the movies — some artsy foreign film that Jonathan recommended — and spent half an hour afterward in the parking lot finishing their bucket of popcorn and discussing what they thought about the movie. A week prior, they spent a Saturday at the park, and Robin packed a lunch while Vickie brought books for them to read and card games for them to play, but they’d spent most of the time just talking, instead. A week before that, they got Chinese food after work, and Robin wasn’t even sure it had counted as an official date, but then Vickie walked her home and kissed her after, which, well, was kinda Robin’s answer.

What Robin likes the most about dating Vickie, she thinks, is that things feel so easy. Their dates aren’t carefully planned events, they’re just eating food and hanging out. Robin never has to worry about what to talk about, because they have so much in common — they have the same taste in movies, books, and even in restaurants. It’s hard to believe that only a couple of months ago, Robin had actually been afraid to talk to her. Everything now seems so effortless, so natural.

So when they reach Robin’s apartment and Robin opens the door, she doesn’t even hesitate before saying, “You can come in, you know. If you want.”

Vickie does hesitate, though. It’s just for a moment, but it’s long enough for Robin to regret saying anything. But just as she opens her mouth to take it back, the sound of the phone ringing emerges from the living room behind her.

“I should probably let you get that,” Vickie says, sounding sheepish.

“I don’t…have to,” Robin says, faltering a little.

“No, it’s okay.” Then Vickie smiles, hesitant. “But, um…next time?”

Robin blinks. Then she feels herself smile, too. “Yeah. Okay. Next time.”

She barely manages to answer the phone before the last ring, saying breathlessly into the phone, “Buckley-Harrington residence?”

“Robin,” says her mom. “If you want me to stop thinking you and Steve are dating, you should probably stop answering the phone like you’re married.”

Robin sighs. “Yeah, okay, Mom. Hello to you, too.”

It isn’t unusual for her mom to call. She calls about every other week or so to check in, and also to berate Robin a little for never calling first. In fairness, Robin means to call her mom more often, honest. She just…gets busy.

The calls never last very long, anyway, and this call isn’t any different. Robin talks about work and her classes, and Mom talks about Dad’s latest hobbies and the book she’s reading for book club. But when Mom says, “So, what’s new with you?” Robin hesitates.

For a moment, she thinks about saying it. She imagines herself taking a deep breath and then saying into the receiver, “Mom, I’m dating someone.” 

Four words shouldn’t be so hard to say. She doesn’t have to say who she’s dating. She doesn’t even have to say that she’s dating a girl. She could just leave it as is, save all of that as a surprise, and hope for the best later on down the road…

Okay, yeah, that would be a terrible idea. And yet, the idea of saying the words, “Mom, I’m dating a girl”...

Honestly? Robin can’t even imagine it.

So instead, Robin says, “Did I tell you the elevator’s broken at the library?”

“No,” Mom says. “When did that start?”

“Way too long ago,” Robin says. Then she launches into how she’s spent the past month bringing copies from the Xerox machine up and down the stairs for patrons who are unable to use them and Tammy’s never-ending fight with the board to get them to cover the cost of the part the elevator needs, and as her mom inserts her commentary in all the right parts of the story, all Robin can think about is what a liar she is. 

When Steve gets home an hour after Robin gets off the phone, he only has to take one look at her before he says, “What’s wrong?” 

“What could be wrong,” Robin says, stuffing a spoonful of cookie dough ice cream in her mouth without taking her eyes off the television.

“Well, you’re eating a gallon of ice cream, and you only watch The Muppet Movie when you’re upset.”

Robin looks away from the TV to glare at Steve. Steve raises his eyebrows back. Finally, Robin sighs and drops her spoon back into the carton. “My mom called tonight,” she explains. 

“Okay,” Steve says slowly, waiting for elaboration.

Robin picks up her spoon to dig small valleys into the top layer of ice cream. She takes a deep breath. “Do you ever think about how there are always going to be things about you that some people don’t know? And how sometimes those things are small things, things you just wouldn’t think to mention to anyone else, but sometimes they’re big things, big parts of you that no one knows about? And if the people who love you and care about you don’t know about those parts — don’t know all of you — then…I don’t know, do you ever worry that those people can’t really love and care about you at all?”

There’s a heavy pause, before Steve says slowly, “Um…maybe?”

Robin sighs, then finally admits, “I couldn’t tell my mom about Vickie.”

“Ah,” Steve says in understanding.

There’s another stretch of silence. At last, Steve picks up the remote, pauses the television, and gently takes a seat next to Robin on the couch. A second later, Toby joins him, resting his little head on Robin's knee. For a moment, Robin just examines the small piles of ice cream and cookie dough she’s made in her carton before she says, “I should just be able to tell her. Shouldn’t I? I mean…she’s my mom.”

She feels awkward as soon as she says it, because she always feels awkward talking about her parents with Steve. Her family certainly isn’t perfect, she knows that, but at least she has a family. Steve hasn’t spoken to his parents since they fled Hawkins right before the lockdown. They hadn’t even bothered to say goodbye in person — they’d just written down a hasty farewell on a sticky note and left it for him on the kitchen counter. The idea of coming out to her parents terrifies her, sure, but if Steve’s parents were still around…if his dad knew he was dating two people and that one of them was Jonathan Byers…Robin doesn’t even want to imagine the kinds of things he’d say. 

But Steve doesn’t point out any of these things, or tell Robin she should be grateful for what she has, or anything like that. Instead, he just shrugs and says, “Sure, but just because she’s your mom doesn’t mean you can’t still be scared.”

Robin chews her lip. “Her and my dad…they’re not bad people,” she says, the same mantra she tells herself when she wakes up in the middle of the night from nightmares about this exact scenario. “But I just don’t know if they’d understand. And I could live with that if it meant nothing had to change, but…”

But that’s the thing. She doesn’t know that things won’t change. She has no way of knowing that at all. 

“You don’t have to tell them, you know,” Steve reminds her gently.

“I want to, though,” Robin says, because she does. “But also…I don’t?” Steve snorts, and Robin cracks half a smile. “And besides, what if Vickie and I — I mean, what if I start living with a girlfriend one day? What if we have kids? I couldn’t keep something like that from them.”

“Yeah. I know,” Steve says. “Have you talked to Vickie? About your parents not knowing, I mean?”

“Yeah,” Robin says. “She’s supportive, but…I don’t know. I’m not sure if she gets it? Her parents have known since she graduated high school, and they’re, like, crazy supportive.”

“Really?”

“Oh, yeah. First in line at the pride parade and everything.”

“Wow,” Steve says, impressed. “Good for them.”

Robin snorts. “Yeah. And I’m happy she has that, obviously, but — I don’t know if I ever will. And I definitely won’t if I never say something, but, it’s just…hard. It’s hard, and it really fucking sucks.” 

“It does,” Steve says. He’s quiet for a moment, like he’s mulling things over, and then he says, “Look, whatever you decide…if you tell them, if you don’t…you know I’ll support you, 100%. But even though your family isn’t perfect, I think your parents really love you. And for what it’s worth, I can’t imagine that’ll change.”

Robin picks at a frayed edge of the couch’s throw pillow. “You think?”

“I do,” Steve says. “But I also know that if you do decide to tell them, and it doesn’t go how you want…well, then, you’ll always have a family here with me. You know that, don’t you?” 

Instantly, Robin’s eyes begin to burn. “Yeah. Of course, I know.”

Steve gives her a somewhat wobbly smile. “Okay. Good.”

Robin blows out a shaky breath, sitting up and setting her rapidly melting carton of ice cream to the side as she quickly blinks back tears. “Alright. Enough about me. Let’s just…talk about something else that isn’t sappy, emotional bullshit.”

Steve snorts. “Okay, sure. Like what?”

“What, you’re not instantly taking this opportunity to wax poetic about Nance and Jonathan?”

Steve shoves Robin and mutters, “Ugh, you’re the worst.” 

Robin laughs, pulling her knees to her chest and resting her chin on top of them. “Seriously, though. How are things going?” 

At last, Steve lets himself smile. “Really good.”

It looks for a moment like he wants to say more, but then he clamps his mouth shut. Robin nudges him with her foot and says, “What?” 

“Nothing,” Steve says, pretending to busy himself with petting Toby's head.

Robin nudges him again. “Steve. C’mon.”

Steve glances up, glances down, pets Toby for a moment, then says, very quietly, “I think I love them.”

Robin sits up straight, surprised. Then she feels herself start to smile. “Yeah?”

Steve glances up and nods. He’s starting to smile, too. “Yeah. God, so much. It’s kind of embarrassing, actually.”

“Why’s that embarrassing?”

“I don’t know.” Steve sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean, I’ve been a little in love with them since junior year? So — it just feels like a lot, I guess.”

“Hey,” Robin says sternly. “Your feelings are not a lot.”

“I didn’t mean it like that, I just meant…” Steve trails off. “I don’t know, it feels intense. I just feel so… full of it, sometimes. Like I’m going to explode, or something crazy, and I’ve never — I mean, even when I was dating Nancy, I was in love with her, obviously, but I guess with everything going on, even then, it never felt like this.” He laughs a little, sounding embarrassed. “I don’t know. I guess that sounds really lame, but I…it’s like I’ve never felt this happy.”

“Steve,” Robin says softly. “That’s amazing.”

Steve makes a face, ducking his head.

“Seriously, I mean it,” she says. “You should tell them.”

Steve makes another face. “I don’t know.” There’s a hesitant pause, then he glances up. “You think I should?”

“Of course,” Robin says. “I think they’d want to hear it.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Yeah, okay. Then when are you going to tell Vickie you’re in love with her?” 

Robin’s heart skips a beat. “What?”

“Oh, c’mon, don’t pretend. You’ve got it bad, Buckley. I can see it.”

Robin looks away and says haughtily, “Just because I’m a lesbian doesn’t mean I’m already in love with my girlfriend after only a month — ”

“Please,” Steve scoffs. “You’ve been in love with Vickie since 1986, at least.”

“I will neither confirm nor deny this,” Robin continues in her haughty tone, hoping it covers for how red her face is turning. “And you know what? Even if I were, then at least I’m not as nauseating about it as you are with Nancy and Jonathan.”

Steve just grins without even trying to argue. This only confirms to Robin that he’s too far gone to be helped. “Wait ‘til you see what we’re dressing up as for Halloween.”

Robin lifts her eyebrows. “What, you’re not going to tell me?”

“Nope,” Steve says, shaking his head. “I want it to be a surprise.”

Robin rolls her eyes, but Steve’s grin just widens.

The first time Vickie stays over, it’s after Robin and Steve’s Halloween party.

They’ve been over to each other’s apartments several times by this point, but they’ve never stayed too late. It’s very late, now, though; everyone else has gone home, and the two of them are sitting on the couch, alone in Robin’s living room. Vickie’s blazer from her Scully costume is strewn, forgotten, across the armchair, and Robin’s Mulder tie is a bit askew. She feels pleasantly buzzed, but not drunk enough to start saying something stupid, and she and Vickie are just talking when she glances over and finds Vickie already looking back at her.

Robin isn’t sure what it is about the way Vickie’s looking at her. Maybe it’s all just an effect of the dimmed lights or the way the rest of the apartment is so silent — or, maybe, it’s Vickie’s expression, her gaze half-lidded and focused on Robin and Robin alone. 

Robin swallows. “Hey,” she says, stupidly. 

“Hi,” Vickie echoes softly.

Robin feels a blush spread across her face. Vickie’s intense, focused gaze darts to Robin’s mouth. And then they move toward each other at the exact same time, Robin tilting Vickie’s chin up with her thumb and Vickie’s hands gripping the lapels of Robin’s suit as she seals her mouth onto hers.

They’ve never kissed like this before, Robin realizes belatedly as Vickie begins to crawl into her lap. Honestly, they’ve never kissed anywhere other than the front porch step or in Vickie’s car — not in public, but not in a place private enough where they could get away with anything more than a chaste press of mouths after being sure there was no one else around. This is different — this is long and leisurely, with all the time and privacy in the world to let it be.

So Robin pulls Vickie closer, tangling one hand in her hair and using the other to shove off her blazer.

“Yours, too,” Vickie murmurs into Robin’s mouth. She tugs at Robin’s suit, and Robin maybe acquiesces a little too eagerly, but it’s worth it for the way Vickie laughs under her breath. Robin cuts her laughter short, moving in to kiss her again, and Vickie lets out a startled sound against her mouth that turns into a soft moan when Robin’s hands wander down her back. 

Instantly, Robin pulls back, her face feeling hot. “Oh, I — sorry — ” she starts, but Vickie just tugs her forward again, fiercer this time.

For a moment, it’s like Robin doesn’t know where she ends and Vickie begins, the two of them drawing closer and closer, their mouths hungry against each other as they shed layer after layer of their cheap costumes —

And then from the corner of the room, Robin hears, “Hey, do you guys want to — oh my God!”

Robin and Vickie rip away from each other like they’ve been burned. Vickie, who’s only in a tank top and pants, quickly pulls on Robin’s jacket, and Robin quickly grabs a throw pillow to cover up her half-unbuttoned shirt. 

“Jesus Christ, my eyes!” Steve cries, covering his face with a hand. “Ugh, you guys, get a room!”

“Alright, alright, I’m sorry!” Robin shouts. “I didn’t think you were here!”

Steve stumbles back toward his bedroom with his eyes still covered. “Seriously? I live here — ow!” He shouts as he stumbles into a chair.

“Move to your left,” Robin says, irritated.

“Jesus,” Steve says, shuffling to the left and around the chair. He finally makes it to his bedroom without removing his hand from his eyes, fumbling for the doorknob, and as he slams it shut behind him he shouts, “And use protection!”

“Steve!” Robin says, face flaming, but his door is already closed. 

Silence surrounds the living room. Robin finally turns back to Vickie. Her face is so red, that she more closely resembles a tomato than a human being. 

“I, uh,” Robin whispers. “I thought he went to Nancy and Jonathan’s.” 

“So did I,” Vickie whispers back. 

Why didn’t he go to Nancy and Jonathan’s, Robin thinks with irritation, but before she can voice this, Vickie presses a hand to her mouth. Laughing — she’s laughing, Robin realizes, and once she realizes it, she can’t help but let out a snort, too. Then suddenly they’re both in hysterics, hands covering their mouths, leaning into each other to try to muffle their laughter.

“God,” Vickie wheezes, sitting back up. “That was the most humiliating moment of my life.”

“That was worse than getting caught by my parents,” Robin tells her.

This sends Vickie into another round of hysterical laughter, which, of course, makes Robin crack up, too.

When Robin finally sobers, she sits up straight again, Vickie following her with her eyes. Robin bites her lip. “I guess we should probably…”

Vickie ticks one eyebrow up. “...Get a room?”

Robin blinks. Then she blinks again. “Oh. Do you really…”

“Only if you want to,” Vickie says quickly.

If you want to. What a ridiculous thing to say. As if Robin hasn’t wanted something like this since 1986. 

“No,” Robin says, swallowing hard. “I want to.”

Vickie looks at her for a moment longer, before she finally stands and holds out her hand.

Of course, she does. Robin may have more experience fighting monsters, but if she really thinks about it, Vickie’s always been a little braver than her. 

At last, Robin takes Vickie’s hand and then pulls her to the bedroom.

Still, she sticks a sock over the knob before she closes the door behind her. Just in case. 

On the Sunday after Thanksgiving, it snows. Robin watches the snow plows from Vickie’s living room window — she’d gone to her place first thing last night, as soon as she was back in Chicago — but honestly, it doesn’t seem like the plows are accomplishing much. The snow is coming down heavy enough that a fresh sheet covers the street just as soon as it’s been cleaned. 

Vickie joins Robin at the window, nursing a mug of coffee. “Think we’ll get a snow day tomorrow?” 

“God, I hope,” Robin sighs. “I hate my Monday classes.”

When they’ve finally determined the snow isn’t stopping any time soon, Robin uses Vickie’s phone to call the apartment and let Steve know not to wait up on her. But when Steve answers the phone, he sounds a little breathless, almost distracted, which prompts Robin to say, “Hey, you okay?”

“What?” Steve says quickly. “No, yeah, I’m fine.”

Robin frowns. “What, are you worried about being there by yourself?”

“No,” Steve says after a pause. He pauses again, then says, “Actually, uh, I’m going over to Nance and Jonathan’s.”

Robin’s eyebrows shoot up. “Oh?”

Robin can picture the red flush across Steve’s face as he says, “Okay, stop, don’t make that face.”

“What face?! How would you even know what kind of face I’m making?”

“I can see it through our telepathic link.”

“That isn’t how telepathy works, dingus.”

“Yeah, well, it’s how mine works.”

Robin rolls her eyes, then twists the phone cord around her finger, trying to sound casual. “Soooo, you’re staying the night? That’s a pretty big step.”

And a little late in the game for it, Robin thinks but doesn’t say. They’ve been dating since September; Vickie stayed over at Robin’s after only two months. Then again, maybe Robin's concept of how quickly relationships should develop is a little skewed. 

“They didn’t ask me to stay the night,” Steve says now. “They just asked me to come over.”

“Yeah, but, come on.”

“Robin.”

Robin snickers, but secretly, she’s happy for him. She respects that Steve, Nancy, and Jonathan are taking things slow — glacially slow — but she’s happy to hear they’re finally making headway. 

“Just leave out pee pads for Toby just in case,” Robin says. “And extra food, too.”

“I’m not staying the night,” Steve says again in exasperation, but after another pause, he adds, “But okay.”

Robin laughs.

Her concerns about Steve laid to rest, Robin is free to spend the rest of the day however she sees fit. She and Vickie read and watch movies for most of the afternoon, then sit on the carpet of Vickie’s living room to play board games in the evening. Vickie cooks dinner — “A girlfriend who does it all,” Robin says, even though all Vickie’s making is spaghetti — and they eat from big bowls on the couch in the living room while a movie plays in the background. Halfway through, Robin gets up to make hot chocolate, and she’s just returning to the couch when the lights cut out and she trips, nearly spilling the hot chocolate. 

Vickie sighs. “Aaaaand, there’s the power.”

“Damn,” Robin says. She takes her seat on the couch and offers one of the mugs to Vickie.

Vickie takes a long sip of her hot chocolate, then lowers the mug. “So. Another board game?” 

“We could,” Robin says. She sets down her hot chocolate. “Or…”

She grins teasingly, sliding toward Vickie’s end of the couch to kiss her, and though Vickie laughs, she sets her mug down on the coffee table so fast it nearly spills, too.

In fairness, they don’t get very far; the heat of the moment is instantly cut short when Robin bangs her elbow on the coffee table in the dark. But Vickie gets them flashlights, and Robin pulls her into another kiss despite her wounded pride, and they stumble into the bedroom, mugs of hot chocolate left cold and forgotten by the couch. 

In the morning, Robin wakes up in multiple layers of clothes and beneath multiple layers of blankets and finds Vickie awake, too. Her eyes are half-lidded from sleep but unmistakably focused on Robin, and her hair is a mess, spread across her pillow and sticking up oddly in certain places. Robin reaches over, tucks a strand behind Vickie’s ear, and then curves a hand around her jaw.

“Hey,” Vickie says with a small, sleepy smile.

“Hi,” Robin echoes.

Vickie’s brow furrows slightly. “What’s that look for?” 

Robin swallows. The truth is, there have been so many times in her life — too many times — where she’s felt scared. Time and time again, she’s let that fear stand in the way — not just with Vickie, but enough times that it feels significant. What in her life would be different, if she’d said the things she felt when she felt them? What in her life would be better?

She’s tired of hiding things, she thinks. She fought monsters and survived. She’s ready to finally be brave.

“Would it be a cliche,” Robin says, very slowly. “If I said that I loved you?”

Vickie blinks, then blinks again. Then a smile breaks across her face, as bright as the sun reflecting on the melting snow just outside. 

“Funny,” she says finally. “I was just thinking the same thing.”

Robin smiles back.

One of the best parts about dating Vickie is just how well she gets along with Steve.

When they’d first started dating, a part of her had been worried in the same way she’d been worried when Steve, Nancy, and Jonathan started dating. Steve wasn’t just the most important person in her life — he was kind of the only person in her life. There was Dustin and Erica of course, but even they were connected to her through Steve, and the friends she’d made in her classes were more like glorified acquaintances than anything else. Vickie was the first truly important person in her life who was not Steve or connected to Steve in any way, and she’d worried, just a little, about that shaking up the dynamic.

It turns out she needn’t have bothered. Not only has Steve been too busy with his honeymoon phase these past couple of months to feel replaced, but it turns out Steve loves Vickie. Robin can’t even parse out why, given they have barely anything in common, but every time they’re together they talk like they’re long-lost friends.

They have a shared fondness for both teasing Robin and boasting about her accomplishments: in one sentence, they’ll go from laughing about the time Robin set off the fire alarm because she burnt toast, to waxing poetic about the cupcakes she made for the Halloween party, as Robin switches between blushing at Vickie and glaring at Steve. Despite being attached at the hip, Steve has a good sense of when to let them have alone time when Vickie’s at the apartment — especially after last time — but on the rare occasions he joins them in the living room or follows them to grab something for dinner, Vickie never seems to mind. They both love the beach, apparently — Steve because he likes to swim and Vickie because she likes to wear a big floppy hat while she sits in the sand and reads her book — but Robin detests it, because she sunburns so easily, so the running joke is that Steve and Vickie are taking a trip to the beach next summer without her, since she refuses to be convinced. 

The point is, they get along, and Robin likes that they get along. When the three of them sit on the couch to watch a movie, Robin in the middle and Steve and Vickie at either side, she can’t help but think that it feels beyond unbelievable that this is something she gets to have. That lonely girl in Indiana who spent her nights and weekends holed up in her room before 1985, wishing she just had someone… even back then, she never could’ve imagined she’d have this. 

“Soooo,” Steve says one night when the three of them are cleaning up the kitchen after dinner. “Vickie, when are you gonna stop holding out on us?”

Vickie looks up from where she's been not-so-subtly feeding Toby bits of leftovers, her brow wrinkled. “Holding out on you for what?”

“A double date, obviously. You still owe us a rain check, remember?”

“Hang on,” Robin says as she sets a dish on the drying rack. “What will this double date entail? Because I’m not doing laser tag again.”

“Aw, Rob,” Vickie says. “It’s sweet you want to protect your ego, but I promise I’m not dating you for your laser tag abilities.” 

“What abilities?” Steve says, and Robin flicks soap water at him while Vickie laughs. “Alright, relax. I was thinking of something more chill, anyway. Like, bowling or something.” 

“Bowling?” Robin asks skeptically.

“What’s wrong with bowling?”

“Aside from the fact that it sounds like an activity only you’d be good at?”

“Hey, I’m a decent bowler,” Vickie says, mock offended. “Remember all the times we went bowling after school with band?”

Robin does remember, actually. Their band director had been big into boosting morale, or whatever, which meant frequent excursions after practice — mainly to the bowling alley, because it was about the only thing there was to do in Hawkins for a bunch of high school band geeks. Most notably, Robin remembers Vickie almost always getting the highest score, because she evidently had some semblance of hand-eye coordination that none of the other band geeks possessed. Even more notably, Robin remembers telling Steve exactly that, spending her Family Video shifts after trips to the bowling alley recounting the details of Vickie’s prowess —

“Oh, yeah, she remembers,” Steve cuts in with a smirk, then he raises his voice into a falsetto that doesn’t sound anything like her and says, “‘Oh, Steve, today Vickie rolled the perfect strike…’”

“Shut up,” Robin shrieks, grabbing for the empty pizza box on the counter and lunging at him. “I’m going to kill you, I swear to God — ”

Steve ducks, barely missing the pizza box Robin meant to slam on his head. Vickie giggles but keeps her gaze averted from Robin as a flush spreads across her ears and nose, and Robin’s face feels like it’s on fire. 

Finally, Steve steals the pizza box from Robin and shoves it into the trash can where it’s out of harm’s way. “Anyway,” he says like nothing even happened. “Bowling?” 

Finally, Vickie glances at Robin. Her blush is starting to fade, which Robin decides to take as a good sign. “I’m free this weekend?”

Steve looks at Robin, too, hopefully.

Robin sighs. Her face still feels slightly hot. “Alright, fine. I’ll bowl.”

Steve beams.

Later, as Vickie is pulling on her coat by the front door, Robin says, “Hey, it’s not…embarrassing that I used to have such a big crush on you, right?” It isn’t until after she’s said it that she realizes how painfully juvenile it sounds, so she quickly adds, “I promise I wasn’t as pathetic about it as Steve makes it seem,” like that’s any better. 

But Vickie shakes her head, laughing. “No, no, it’s fine.” She looks down to button up her coat. “Um, if I’m being honest, it’s actually…kinda flattering?”

Robin lifts her eyebrows. “Wow, okay. Big ego, much?”

Vickie rolls her eyes. “Not because of that. Just because…” She looks away again. “Well, it’s just because it’s you.”

Robin blinks. “Me?” 

The tip of Vickie’s nose is red. “Well, yeah.”

“Why would it matter that it was me?”

Vickie scoffs. “Are you kidding? Robin, you were, like, so cool in high school.” 

“What?” Robin squawks. “No, I wasn’t.”

“You were! You didn’t care what anybody thought about you. Or you acted like it, anyway. I was so jealous of that. I mean, looking back, probably more than jealous, but…” She shifts on her feet, embarrassed. “Well, you know. The point is, to think you were spending all that time thinking about me…”

Vickie trails off. Her cheeks are pink, now, too. Robin simply cannot stop staring at her.

Finally, Vickie lifts one shoulder in a shrug and says quietly, “It’s just flattering. That’s all.”

Robin blinks, then blinks again. This feels, she thinks, a lot like sitting on the couch with her and Steve, watching a movie and eating snacks in comfortable silence — like something she never thought she’d get to have. 

“I didn’t know that,” Robin says finally, her voice just as quiet.

She wonders what would’ve happened if she had known. If they’d had a talk like this sometime in high school, or even during the lockdown after…would they be here right now? Would they have gotten here any sooner?

But if Vickie’s wondering this, too, she doesn’t say so. Instead, she just smiles, small but genuine, and says, “Now you do.”

As Robin predicted, Steve is the only one who’s any good at bowling.

Vickie isn’t bad, it’s true. But evidently, what they’d both thought was decent was actually just decent in comparison to the other band kids. When she returns to her seat next to Robin after only taking out four pins on her first round, Robin pats her arm and says, “Don’t worry, I’m not dating you based on your bowling skills.”  

Nancy isn’t terrible, either, but she also isn’t very good, and as bad as it sounds, Robin’s actually having a good time watching her be bad at something for once. Nancy, on the other hand, looks seconds away from a temper tantrum when she only hits two pins on her turn.

“This is ridiculous,” she huffs when she watches Steve roll a strike right after her. “I can shoot and kill monsters, I should be able to bowl.” 

“Nancy,” Jonathan says. “This is completely different than shooting a rifle.”

Nancy shoots him a glare.

As for Robin, apparently, all those trips to the bowling alley in high school did not pay off, because she isn’t any good at bowling at all. The good news is, she still isn’t the worst of the bunch. That title is reserved for Jonathan, who is possibly the worst bowler Robin has ever seen.

He told them he’s never actually been bowling before, and it shows. On his third turn, when he hits only a single pin, Vickie actually cheers, because it’s the only pin he’s hit all night. When Jonathan turns back to them despairingly, his bowling ball hanging loosely at his side, Nancy smiles, false-sweet, and says, “I’m sure it’s completely different than shooting a camera.” 

Jonathan glares back at her, but Steve snorts, standing from his seat. “Here, you want me to show you?” 

Jonathan blinks, then immediately becomes defensive, bringing the bowling ball to his chest like it’s a shield. “Oh, it’s — I’m fine. I’ve got it.”

“Yeah, you clearly don’t,” Steve says.

Jonathan narrows his eyes at him, too.

“Here,” Steve says in a quieter tone, moving behind him. He takes a quick look at their surroundings — the lane next to them is empty, and all the bowlers in the other lanes are preoccupied with their own games — then places his palm over the hand Jonathan has wrapped around the bowling ball. 

Even from afar, Robin can see Jonathan go still.

“Just try it like this,” Steve says gently, moving his other hand to Jonathan’s elbow to guide his arm forward, and finally, at Steve’s command, Jonathan lets the ball go. 

It glides straight down the lane, sending the remainder of the pins rattling to the floor. 

Steve takes a step away from Jonathan, like he was never there at all, and grins. “What was that about not needing any help?” 

“I — ” Jonathan stammers, then scowls. “Oh, shut up.”

When he returns to his seat next to Robin, his face is a brilliant shade of red.

“Nance?” Vickie prompts, nudging her. “You’re up.” 

“What?” Nancy says distractedly, then she tears her gaze away from Jonathan. “Oh! Sorry.”

She stands quickly, grabbing a bowling ball. When she passes Steve on her way to the lane, she can’t quite meet his gaze. 

In the end, Steve wins by a wide margin. Vickie is in second place, Nancy third, Robin fourth, and Jonathan dead last.

Robin congratulates Vickie on her score, only she kind of means it as a joke, but Vickie blushes like Robin really means it, so come to think of it, maybe she does. Steve seems a little put out that no one is congratulating him on his score, but Nancy is still quietly seething over hers, and Jonathan has looked like he’s in some kind of daze ever since Steve touched his hand, so honestly, Steve is probably shit out of luck. 

Afterward, they get dinner at the pizza restaurant next door, where they order at the counter and grab a booth in the corner. Robin keeps wanting to feel nervous — it feels like there’s a giant sign over her head declaring that she’s on a date with a girl, and that everybody in the restaurant knows it. But they don’t, Robin realizes. No one knows. Why would they? With five of them, anyone would think they’re just a group of friends having a fun night together.

Maybe they should do this double date thing more often, she thinks.

Besides, the lack of bowling skills aside, it’s a pretty good night. Nancy and Vickie are surprisingly hitting it off — it turns out they’re both fans of the same obscure fantasy series that Vickie has been trying to get Robin to read for weeks, to no avail. The rest of them sit and quietly watch their discussion — not just because they have nothing to contribute, but because they can’t get in a word edgewise with all of Nancy and Vickie’s rambling about worldbuilding and character arcs. At last, Vickie looks around the table, noticing their silence, and then snaps her mouth shut. 

“Oh,” she says as a flush spreads across her face. “Um…sorry.” 

“It’s okay,” Robin says, chin propped in her hand as she smiles. “It’s cute you have someone to nerd out with.”

When their table number is finally called, Steve chivalrously offers to grab their pizzas, only to disappear right after he brings them back to the table, then reappears shortly with a small bottle of red pepper flakes.

“Almost forgot. Had to steal it from another table,” he says, then slides the bottle toward Jonathan, who just stares at it until Steve prompts, “’Cause you don’t like parmesan, right?” 

“Right,” Jonathan says after a long moment. “I — thanks.”

“No problem,” Steve says, then he slides back into his seat. 

He turns away a moment later, distracted by Nancy and Vickie’s analysis of their nerdy book series. But Robin is still watching as Jonathan ducks his head, sprinkling his slice of pizza with red pepper flakes as a small, shy smile works itself across his face. 

If Robin’s being honest, she’s never been sure what to make of Steve’s dynamic with Jonathan. Steve and Nancy made sense — he’s been holding a candle for her as long as Robin’s known him, and it didn’t take her long to figure out those feelings were obviously returned. Even Jonathan and Nancy make sense, with that quiet way they seem to understand each other sometimes. But Jonathan…he’s always been a bit harder to read.

Robin could buy that he and Steve were friends, sure. She could even buy that Jonathan cared about Steve, to some degree. But for a long time, she could never be sure that he felt the way about Steve that Steve so clearly felt about him. It rankled her a little, that Jonathan was always pulling himself out of Steve’s grasp whenever he reached to touch, that he so often met Steve’s expressions of sentiment with an eye-roll or a duck of his head.

Maybe it was harsh. She knew Jonathan had always been more reserved than the rest of them. And yet, she wasn’t sure she liked the idea of Steve being with someone who couldn’t properly express that they wanted Steve, too.

It’s only now that Robin begins to realize that Jonathan expresses it all the time. It’s in the smiles he hides after Steve’s expressions of sentiment, the way he nudges the pizza slice with the most pepperoni toward Steve’s plate, or the way he hands Steve a stack of napkins just before he spills pizza sauce on his shirt. 

Maybe it isn’t the kind of love Robin’s used to seeing. No one will ever write a romance novel or make a movie about it.  But it’s obvious that’s what it is. Anyone could see that, so long as they were looking for it. 

After they finish off their pizzas, Nancy and Vickie head to the bathroom and Steve gets up to grab to-go boxes, which leaves Robin alone at the table with Jonathan. For a moment, it’s awkward — it’s not that she doesn’t like Jonathan, but she’s never been close with him like she is with Nancy. They’ve hardly ever spent any one-on-one time together, despite Steve’s insistence that they have a ton in common. To her relief, it’s Jonathan who attempts to break the silence by saying, “So, uh, how long have you and Vickie been together?”

Robin lowers her drink. “Oh. Uh, not as long as you guys have. We started dating in September.”

Jonathan looks slightly confused but still says, “Oh, okay. Yeah. Definitely…not as long, then.” He clears his throat. “Well, you guys seem good together.”

“Oh. Thanks,” Robin says. And then, after an awkward pause, she quickly adds, “You guys, too. Obviously.”

“Oh,” Jonathan echoes uncertainly. “Thanks.”

“Sure.” There’s an awkward pause again. How damn long does it take to get some to-go boxes? Robin racks her brain for a conversation topic before finally settling on, “So, your photos go up at that gallery you work at this weekend, right?”

“Yeah,” Jonathan says, a confused look on his face again. “Steve…told you about that?” 

Robin scoffs. “Are you kidding? The way he tells it, you’re like, the next Ansel Adams, or something.”

Jonathan’s face is turning very, very red. “Oh, I — he’s probably just — y’know, being nice,” he stammers out.

“Oh, probably,” Robin says easily. “But I think that’s just how he is. Seriously, he talks about you and Nance all the time.” 

“Oh,” Jonathan says again.

Robin looks around the restaurant. The women’s bathroom door still hasn’t opened, and Steve must be on a five-mile hike to get those to-go boxes or something, so she turns back to Jonathan. “Look…Steve would kill me if he knew I was embarrassing him like this, but…I hope you know I haven’t seen him this happy in a really long time. I don’t know if you guys realize it, but honestly…both of you showing back up in his life is probably one the best things that’s happened to him.” 

Jonathan, evidently, has not realized this, because for a moment, he just stares at Robin, mouth half-parted like his breath has been caught.

“I…” He begins in a distant, hoarse voice. Then he clears his throat, quickly dropping his eyes. “No, I…yeah. It’s — it’s the same for — well, anyway, we feel the same. He’s…” He trails off, his shoulders hunching.

When it becomes obvious Jonathan isn’t going to finish his sentence, Robin says, “Okay. Well, good.” For good measure, she adds, “Just don’t do anything to screw it up.”

Jonathan looks up, then frowns. “How would we — ”

“Hey, guys,” Steve says, suddenly sliding back into his seat, and Jonathan instantly snaps his mouth shut. “Sorry, they were out of boxes and had to fold some more.”

“No problem,” Jonathan says quickly, grabbing a box from the top of the stack Steve’s carried over. “Thanks.”

Robin tries to give him a silent look, but Jonathan avoids her gaze for the rest of the night. 

“I wanna ask you something,” Vickie says to Robin at the beginning of December.

“Okay,” Robin says slowly.

“It’s kind of crazy.”

Robin feels herself start to sweat. “Uh…”

“Not bad crazy, just…” Vickie bites her lip, then takes a deep breath. “Would you, maybe, possibly, want to come home with me for Christmas?”

Robin blinks. “Wait, really?”

Vickie nods.

Robin blinks again. “Would your parents be…?”

“They know about me, obviously. And they know I’m seeing someone. No specifics,” Vickie says quickly. “I wasn’t sure if you’d be cool with it, since we hadn’t discussed it, but…they already really, really want to meet you. It was their idea, actually — coming home for Christmas, I mean — but I told them I’d have to ask, so…this is me. Asking.”

Robin’s mouth parts, but no words come out.

Vickie chews her lip again. “I know it’s probably too soon — ”

“No, no,” Robin says, shaking her head. “Just…are you sure?”

Vickie smiles. “Yeah. I’m sure.”

“Okay.” At last, Robin lets herself smile, too. “Then…okay.”

Vickie’s face instantly brightens. “Okay?”

“Yeah,” Robin says, nodding quickly, feeling her smile stretch. “I’d love to.”

Vickie’s answering smile is so big it takes up her entire face.

They leave for Cleveland on the 23rd, the first day the library’s closed for the holidays. It’s a five-hour drive, which they spend talking and swapping CDs, because, for all they have in common, music is not one of those things. Vickie is staying for the rest of the week and her parents will drive her back to Chicago, but Robin’s planning on heading back up Christmas evening. Steve usually spends the holiday with Dustin and Mrs. Henderson, but they’re on a cruise until New Year’s, and as codependent as it sounds, Robin doesn’t want him to spend the entirety of Christmas alone. Vickie understood, which was more than Robin could ask for, and besides, two nights felt suitable for a first “meet the family” trip.

Robin’s trying not to show it, but honestly, she’s never been so nervous. Vickie is her first real relationship, which means this is Robin’s first time “meeting the family,” and she’s very terrified she’s going to blow it. Steve told her over and over the week leading up to the trip that she had nothing to worry about, and she knew they were supportive of Vickie’s sexuality, so there was no reason to worry about them being accepting, either.

It’s just…Robin knows she can be…a lot. She talks too loudly without realizing it, she says the wrong thing without meaning to, and sometimes it feels like she’s just…too much. 

But Vickie doesn’t seem to think so, she reminds herself. Surely, that has to be enough.

Robin isn’t sure what she’s expecting when she enters Vickie’s parents’ house, but she certainly isn’t expecting Vickie’s mom to engulf her in a bone-crushing hug.

“Oh, you must be Robin!” says Vickie’s mom as she finally releases a startled Robin. She has short, cropped gray hair and crow’s feet, and there’s something about her presence that reminds Robin bizarrely of warm baked bread. “We’re so excited to meet you.”

“This one here’s been very secretive,” says Vickie’s dad, fake teasingly as he nods at Vickie and wraps an arm around her shoulder. He wears glasses and looks like a guy who golfs and obsessively watches Antiques Roadshow. “Wouldn’t say a peep except that she’d found someone.”

“Which is exactly why we’re so excited to hear more about you,” says Vickie’s mom warmly.

Robin feels a little overwhelmed by the attention, honestly, but when she smiles at both of them, it’s genuine.

Over dinner, Robin tells Vickie’s parents about working at the library, her classes, and Steve. It’s nice that she doesn’t have to lie about Hawkins, although she obviously spares them the gory, monster-related details. Vickie’s dad seems especially interested in the final Robin did last semester using the library’s microfilm machine, and Vickie’s mom actually blushes when Robin compliments her chocolate cake. 

It goes well. Not just better than Robin expected, but well. Really, really well. Robin feels a smile on her face as she gets ready for bed that night — in the guest room, because while Vickie’s parents seem accepting, they also seem a little old-fashioned. Honestly, Robin doesn’t mind; she’s pretty sure she’d feel mortified sleeping in the same bed as her girlfriend, knowing her parents were in the same house.

But Vickie sneaks into Robin’s room just after she’s climbed into bed. Robin sits up, frowning. “What are you doing in here?”

“Relax, I’ll go back to my room eventually,” Vickie whispers, crawling into bed next to Robin. “I just wanted to check on you.”

“I’m okay,” Robin says honestly. “You think it went well?”

“Are you kidding? They love you.”

“They do?”

“Why wouldn’t they?” Vickie says. As if it’s obvious, a no-brainer.

Robin doesn’t say anything. Instead, she smiles, leans forward, and kisses her.

The next morning, Vickie’s parents leave her and Robin to their own devices. Vickie takes Robin to a coffee shop she likes not too far from her parents’ house, and then they spend the afternoon at the Cleveland Metroparks Zoo — Vickie says her favorite exhibit is the wolves, but Robin likes the monkeys and gorillas. In the evening, they return to the house with Chinese takeout, which they eat in the living room while watching Christmas movies. On Christmas morning, Robin wakes up to the smell of cinnamon rolls and pancakes, which Vickie’s mom presents to her while she’s sitting on the carpet of the living room in her pajamas. She then watches everyone go around and open their Christmas presents — an alarming number of books for Vickie and her dad, and a new China set for her mom.

Robin's surprised at the end, though, when Vickie’s mom hands her a box covered in wrapping paper. 

“Oh,” Robin says. “I didn’t — I didn’t get you guys anything. I feel bad.”

And oh my God, why didn’t she get her girlfriend’s parents anything for Christmas? Isn’t that, like, dating 101?

But Vickie’s dad just says, “Your presence is a present.” Then he looks around, a grin on his face. “Get it? Because — ”

“Yes, Dad, we get it,” Vickie says, but there’s a fond smile on her face.

“Besides, it’s not much,” Vickie’s mom insists. She nods toward the box in Robin’s hands. “Go ahead, open it.”

Robin carefully tears open the wrapping paper to reveal a red, knitted scarf, soft and clearly handmade.

“Wow,” Robin says, turning it over in her hands.

“Vickie said you were a fan of the fiber arts,” Vickie’s mom says. “I only dabble in it a little in myself, but…”

“Are you kidding? This is beautiful,” Robin says, and to her horror, she feels her eyes begin to burn. She blinks quickly, hoping no one else noticed. “Thank you so much. Seriously.”

Vickie’s mom’s grin softens. “Of course, honey. Don’t even mention it.”

They put on another Christmas movie while they finish eating their cinnamon rolls and pancakes, and when Vickie’s dad accidentally gets syrup on the carpet, everyone laughs good-naturedly, even though it’ll probably stain. It’s like this space, this moment with Vickie’s family, covered in the soft glow of the Christmas tree lights, is something safe. Something special, something nothing harsh can touch. 

I want something like this, Robin thinks suddenly, vividly. I want something like this, and I should have it.

It’s only later, as Robin and Vickie are alone in the kitchen and washing dishes that Robin says, “I want to tell my parents.”

“Tell them what?” Vickie says as she dries off a plate.

“About me. About us,” Robin says. “I want to tell them.”

Vickie looks up. “Yeah?” She says very carefully.

Robin nods. “Yeah. I — yeah.”

Vickie sets down the plate, suddenly serious. “Are you sure?”

“Very sure,” Robin says, then, “But uh, I think I need to do it now before I lose my nerve.”

“Well, we have a phone.” Vickie searches her eyes. “Do you want me to be here while you do it?”

Robin shakes her head. “No. This is something I need to do by myself.”

Vickie leans over and squeezes her hand. “Okay. Then I’ll be in the living room if you need me.”

“Thank you,” Robin murmurs.

Vickie just squeezes her hand again and smiles.

It seems like the phone rings for an eternity before the line finally picks up, and Robin hears her mother’s voice say, “Hello, Buckley residence?”

Robin swallows. “Hi, Mom. It’s Robin.”

“Oh! Robin, hi. I didn’t recognize the caller ID…are you calling from work?”

Robin winces. She had lied to her parents and said the reason she couldn’t come home was because she had to empty the book drop on Christmas. “No, not exactly. I’m, uh, not at work right now.”

“Well, that’s good. Are you having a good Christmas?”

“Um…yeah. Are you and Dad?”

“Yes, but we wish you were here. Your dad’s making a turkey, now.”

“Sounds good,” Robin says, even though her dad’s turkey is famously dry. She closes her eyes and then takes a deep breath. “Mom, there’s…actually, there’s something I need to tell you.”

Mom’s voice takes on a concerned tone. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. Everything’s fine. Or, I hope it will be, at least.” She winces. “Mom, I’m…” She swallows again, then blurts out, “So, the thing is, I’m seeing someone.”

“You are?” Mom says, surprised. 

“Yes. Not Steve,” she adds quickly.

“Oh,” Mom says after a pause.

“It’s…” Robin’s fingers twist so tightly in the phone cord that they go white. “It’s a girl. I’m dating a girl. I’m a…um, I’m a lesbian.” 

Silence.

“Oh,” Mom says again. Then, “Oh.” 

Robin waits for her to say more, but she doesn’t. “Mom?” 

“I’m sorry,” Mom says faintly. “I’m just…thinking.”

“Good thinking, or bad thinking?” Robin says in a voice so quiet, she doesn’t even recognize herself.

“Robin,” Mom sighs. “I’m…I’ll admit, I’m surprised, but…oh, Rob. You know I love you no matter what, don’t you?”

Instantly, Robin’s chin wobbles. It feels like the weight she’s been carrying has been instantly lifted from her shoulders.

“I just — ” Robin starts, her voice tight with tears. “I was scared to tell you.”

“Oh, Robin,” Mom says again, and Robin can hear the unshed tears in her voice, too. “I’m…well, I’ll admit, I didn’t expect it. I might need to...well, process it, but it doesn’t change anything. Nothing at all, I promise.” She chuckles a little. “Although, honestly, in hindsight…it makes a little bit of sense, doesn’t it? Your dad and I could never figure out why you didn’t have a boyfriend. Guess I know now, huh?”

Robin chuckles, just a little, too. “Yeah. Now you know.”

“And Steve,” Mom says, laughing. “I just didn’t have a clue, huh?”

“Well,” Robin says quietly. “I didn’t want you to, I guess.”

There’s a short pause, then Mom says, “So. What’s her name?”

Robin’s stomach somersaults, and she almost forgets to respond. “Um…it’s Vickie. She’s from Hawkins, actually. We were in band together.”

“Oh. That cute little redhead girl?”

Robin smiles a little. “Yeah.”

“I remember,” Mom says. “How’d you run into her up there?”

“The library, actually. She works there, too. Ironic, huh? That’s, um, where I am now. Not the library, I mean, Vickie’s parents’ house. She invited me home with her for Christmas.”

She half-expects her mom to say something about how she lied about where she was spending her holidays. But she doesn’t. Instead, she says, “Huh. Things must be getting serious, then.”

Robin breathes out softly. “Yeah. I think so.”

There’s a pause.

“Well,” Mom says. “It only feels right that she should come here for New Year’s, then, right?”

Robin’s breath catches in her throat. “Are you…seriously?”

“Only if you feel comfortable,” Mom says. “And if they — I mean, she feels comfortable, of course. But it’s been too long since we’ve seen you, and…well, I’d like to meet her, too.”

Robin continues to hold her breath. “And Dad? Will he…?”

“Your father loves you no matter what,” Mom says firmly. “Just like I do.”

Robin swallows hard again, her eyes pricking with tears. “Mom…”

“Listen to me. It might be a bit of an adjustment for both of us, but Robin…you’re our daughter. If you’re happy — ” Mom stops, then says suddenly, “And…you are, right? Happy?” 

“Yeah,” Robin says hoarsely. “Really, really happy.” 

“Well,” Mom says. “Then that’s all that matters.”

Robin’s throat feels tight, her heart swollen with too many feelings to name.

“Okay,” she croaks out finally. “I’ll have to ask her but I — I’d love to.”

“Alright, then,” Mom says. “Good.”

Robin swallows back her tears. “I should, um, probably go, I think.”

“Okay,” Mom says. “I love you, Robbie.”

“I know,” Robin says, because she does. “I love you, too.”

When she hangs up, she wanders toward the living room in a daze. Vickie intercepts her in the hallway, her hands hovering at Robin’s sides, her gaze searching and concerned. “How did it go?” 

Robin takes a deep breath, then says, “Are you busy on New Year’s?”

Vickie frowns in confusion. “What?”

At last, the riot of feelings in Robin’s chest slows, and she feels herself smile. “They want to meet you.”

Vickie blinks. “Are you serious?”

Robin nods, a happy, possibly hysterical laugh escaping from her lips.

“Robin!” Vickie says, wrapping her arms around her. “Oh my God, that’s amazing.”

I know, Robin tries to say, but she’s so full of relief she can’t even speak. Instead, she wraps her arms around Vickie, too, burying her relieved smile in her shoulder. 

Robin starts getting ready to head back to Chicago a couple of hours after lunch.

“Are you sure you can’t stay longer?” Vickie’s dad asks, helping Robin load her suitcase into her trunk.

“No, I’m sorry,” Robin says. “I’ve got to, uh…get back to my dog.”

“Alright,” Vickie’s dad says, closing her trunk. “Next time, then?”

Robin smiles. “Yeah. Next time.”

She kisses Vickie before she leaves — very briefly, because her parents are still standing in the doorway.

“Love you,” Vickie murmurs when they part. “I'm so happy for you.”

“Yeah,” Robin says. “Me, too.”

Robin spends the entire five-hour drive back to Chicago thinking about how she’s going to tell Steve. She can't imagine how excited he’ll be for her; maybe they’ll even break open the champagne they bought for New Year’s Eve early to celebrate.

But when she gets to the apartment, only Toby greets her at the door, yipping in a somewhat distressed tone.

Robin bends down to scratch his head, looking down the hallway with a frown. “Steve?”

She hears him before she sees him. 

It sounds like heavy breathing at first, which is strange on its own. But then she realizes there’s an even stranger noise underneath it, choking and stuttering and almost verging on a wail, a sound so foreign to her that she hardly recognizes it. It isn’t until she turns the corner to the living room that she sees Steve on their couch, his eyes swollen and red-rimmed, his face blotchy and his shoulders trembling uncontrollably.

Robin stares at him. “...Steve?” She says with concern. 

Steve swallows hard, then sniffles. When he rubs his nose with his sleeve, it comes away with snot on it. “Hey,” he says in a very wobbly voice.

Robin drops her bag to the floor. Her heart feels like it’s in her stomach. There’s only one explanation she can come up with for why Steve could possibly be this upset. 

“Did you break up?” She asks in a fragile whisper.

To Robin’s surprise, Steve laughs, humorless and strained. Then he shakes his head. “No.”

Robin blinks. “Then what…?”

“It’s worse than that,” he says. He sniffles and rubs his nose with his sleeve again. “It turns out we were never even dating at all.”

Robin just stares at him. 

Steve explains the story in stops and starts, sniffling throughout. How Nancy and Jonathan had come over and surprised him a couple of hours before Robin arrived. How happy Steve had been to see them. How he’d kissed them for the first time, and it’d been perfect, until the rug was ripped out from under him and he realized he’d gotten it all wrong. How that first date he’d called Robin about had been a misunderstanding, an incorrectly used expression that Steve had jumped to conclusions about. How every date they’d been on since had only been a date in Steve’s imagination. How Nancy and Jonathan thought of Steve as their friend, but nothing more, while Steve has spent the past three months thinking they were falling in love. 

“But…I don’t understand,” Robin says finally, at a total loss. She can’t even begin to reconcile the misunderstanding Steve’s describing to her with what she’s witnessed the past few months — the three of them teasing each other at laser tag, their matching Star Wars costumes on Halloween, their easy banter during bowling. The way the weight on Nancy’s shoulders is instantly lightened around Steve, the way Jonathan’s hard outer shell cracks open after only a little of Steve’s persuading…it was all too genuine to have been faked. They love each other, all three of them. Anybody could’ve seen that.

But then Robin thinks about Nancy’s confusion at the laser tag arena, her comment about how Robin — Steve’s friend — made him happy, too. How Jonathan looked confused when Robin told him she and Vickie hadn’t been dating as long as the three of them…as if he thought she was referring only to him and Nancy. How before Steve came back, when Robin told him not to screw things up, it was like he didn’t know what she was talking about…

Oh, no, Robin thinks with a sinking feeling. 

“Really? Because I understand,” Steve says now. “I fucked it all up. Like I always do, I guess.”

Robin frowns, moving to sit next to him on the couch. “Steve — ”

But Steve is already shaking his head. “I feel like such an idiot,” he says wetly. 

“Hey,” Robin says, gentle but stern. “You’re not an idiot.”

Steve just shakes his head harder. “I really thought that they — that they wanted me, too. That they could — ” 

He’s crying again, tears dripping down his nose as his shoulders shake with the useless effort of holding them back, and inside her chest, Robin feels her heart begin to break. 

“Steve,” she says, reaching for his hand. Steve squeezes it, just once, but he doesn’t stop crying.

“I ruined everything,” he sobs. “They won’t even — won’t even want to be friends after this, I’ve lost them — ”

“Hey, you didn’t ruin anything. Alright?” Robin says fiercely. “They’re your friends. If they’re willing to lose you over this, well, then they’re fucking idiots. Okay?”

But Steve shakes his head again like he can’t even hear her. “I love them,” he chokes out. “You don’t get it, I — I — I love them. They’re — they’re everything to me, Robin, and I can’t lose them, I can’t, I — ” 

“Steve — ”

Steve buries his face in his hands, chest heaving. “I don’t know what to do, I can’t — God, please, I can’t lose them again — ”

“Shh,” Robin murmurs. “Hey, it’s okay. C’mere.”

Then she pulls Steve toward her, tucks his head into her shoulder, and lets him cry himself out.

They stay on the couch like that for a long time, Robin brushing back his hair and wiping his tears until they both realize a tissue box would be more sufficient. When Robin gets up to grab one, she decides to make them both a cup of herbal tea while she’s at it. She returns to the living room with two mugs and the tissue box and finds Steve still on the couch, shoulders slumped and listlessly petting Toby’s head, who’s crawled into his lap in Robin’s absence. He doesn’t bother looking up until Robin hands him a mug and the box of tissues, which he takes, and then sniffles out, “Thanks.” 

Robin returns to her seat on the couch, Steve leans his head on her shoulder, and they drink their tea in silence for another ten minutes as Toby stretches his little body across both of their laps, before Robin says, “You think you’re ready for bed?” 

“Yeah. I guess so.” He swallows. “Can you…would you stay with me?”

“Yeah, of course.” She pats his knee. “But only if we’re sharing your bed. Your mattress is way more comfortable.”

To her relief, this pulls the barest hint of a smile from Steve.

As Steve gets ready for bed, Robin dips into the kitchen to dial Vickie’s parents’ number.

“Hello?” comes Vickie’s soft voice through the line a few seconds later.

“Hey, it’s me,” Robin sighs. She glances at the clock on the wall, then winces. “Shit, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize how late it was. I hope I didn’t wake you up.” 

“No, you’re fine. I’m glad you called, I was getting worried. You get home okay?”

“Yeah. I would’ve called earlier, um…Steve was having a rough night.” 

“Everything okay?” Vickie asks, and the way Robin can so easily picture the concerned furrow in her brow as she asks makes her feel like she’s falling in love with her a little more. 

“Not really,” Robin admits. “But we will be, I think. I’ll tell you more tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay,” Vickie says. “Love you. I guess…give Steve my best, alright?”

“I will,” Robin says. “I love you, too.”

When Robin crawls into bed a few minutes later, Steve turns toward her and says sleepily, “Was that Vickie on the phone?”

“Yeah. She wanted to see if I made it home okay.” 

“I didn’t even ask about your Christmas,” he mumbles. “I feel bad.”

“It was good,” Robin says after hesitating. “Really good, actually.”

“Yeah?” Steve says.

It is absolutely not the right time. Steve’s just had his heart shattered into a million pieces; the worst thing Robin could do is wax poetic about her amazing Christmas with her loving girlfriend. But Steve’s looking at her so curious and genuine that Robin finally admits quietly, “I told my mom.”

Steve’s eyes widen. “Holy shit. Really?”

“Yeah. I just — I wanted to rip off the bandaid, I guess, so I called home this morning and my mom picked up, and I told her.” 

Beneath the sheets, Steve prods her ankle with his foot. “And…?”

Robin takes a deep breath. “And she told me I should bring Vickie home for New Year’s.”

For the first time all night, Steve’s face breaks out into a real smile. “Robin. That’s amazing.”

Finally, Robin lets herself smile, too. “Yeah. It was.”

“I told you it’d work out.”

Robin laughs under her breath. “Yeah, yeah, you did. I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow, okay? Let’s just go to sleep. You’ve had a long day.”

It’s as delicate of a way to put it without dredging up more waterworks, she thinks, but Steve’s mouth still flattens into a thin line. “Okay.” He turns so he’s facing the ceiling, and they both go quiet, until he whispers minutes later, “Hey, Robin?”

Robin blinks her eyes open. “Yeah?”

She hears him swallow. “Just…thanks. I don’t…honestly, I really don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Oh, you’d be a mess,” Robin says easily. “So let’s hope you never have to find out.”

When she glances over at him, she can see the briefest hint of his smile even through the darkness.

During the night, Robin wakes up a few times to the sound of Steve sniffling — muffled, like he’s trying to hide it — but for the most part, they both sleep the whole night through. When she finally opens her eyes in the morning, Toby’s vacated his usual spot at the bottom of the bed to sleep between them, and Steve’s already awake, staring up at the ceiling. After Robin yawns, Steve finally glances over, and it’s only then that she sees how red and puffy his eyes are.

“Wow,” she says around her yawn. “You look like shit.”

Steve snorts. “Thanks. Love to hear it.”

“Sorry,” Robin winces. “How…are you feeling?” 

“Better, I guess.”

“That’s good,” Robin says, tentative. “So…got any plans today?”

“Nah.”

“Do you think…maybe…you should try to talk to them?”

Steve sighs, his eyes downcast as he mumbles, “They aren’t gonna want to talk to me.”

“But do you want to talk to them?”

Steve looks away from her, his shoulders lifting up and down beneath the sheets in a shrug. 

Robin sighs, too, feeling a little exasperated. “Okay, then what do you want to do?”

“I dunno.”

Robin is quiet for a moment, staring up at the ceiling. “Wanna watch The Muppet Movie?”

Ten minutes later, they’re sitting on the couch with Toby, two cups of coffee in hand as Kermit sings “Rainbow Connection,” when suddenly, there's a knock at the door.

Toby cocks his head to the side as Steve and Robin sit up straight, looking at each other with wide eyes. Robin runs through her mental list of people they both know: but Vickie’s still in Ohio, Dustin’s on a cruise with his mom until New Year’s, and Erica should be in Hawkins for Christmas with her parents, Lucas, and Max. Which only leaves…

Robin bolts off the couch. “I’ll get it!” She shouts.

“Robin,” Steve hisses, panicked, but Robin’s already down the hallway, yanking open the front door.

Nancy and Jonathan stand on the other side of it, bundled up in winter coats and wearing twin expressions of surprise. Like they forgot she lived here, too, or something.

Robin would never admit it, but she takes some perverse satisfaction in knowing that underneath the surprise, they both look a little bit miserable.

“Steve isn’t here,” Robin says finally, breaking the silence, and she gets a bit of perverse satisfaction from saying that, too. 

Nancy and Jonathan glance at each other.

“His car is parked in the lot,” Jonathan says.

Robin shrugs. “Must be another car.”

“It has the same ‘Sorry, officer, I thought you wanted to race’ bumper sticker on it,” Jonathan says dryly.

Robin throws her hands up. “Okay, fine. He’s here, and he doesn’t want to see you.”

“Robin,” Nancy tries.

Robin crosses her arms. “Nope. Sorry, this isn’t happening. And frankly, I’m surprised you both had the audacity to show up here at all.”

Jonathan winces, but Nancy’s expression stays stoic as she takes a deep breath. “Robin, please. We just want to talk to him.”

“And I told you,” Robin says, temper starting to flare. “He doesn’t want to talk to — ”

“Robin, it’s fine,” Steve says quietly, appearing suddenly behind her. “You can let them in.”

They all go quiet for a moment, Nancy and Jonathan just staring at Steve with an expression Robin doesn’t know how to interpret. 

“Hi, Steve,” Jonathan finally says, his voice just as quiet.

Steve sighs, his voice sounding haggard. “Hey.”

Robin looks at Steve and raises her eyebrows. Steve cocks his head in the direction of the door. Finally, Robin sighs and opens the door wide enough to let Nancy and Jonathan inside. 

They move straight to the living room, where they stand around awkwardly for a few minutes. Toby, sitting on the ottoman, lifts his head when they enter, but he makes no move to greet Nancy and Jonathan like he normally would. Robin makes a mental note to give him extra treats later.

“So,” Steve says, his tone forcedly casual. “What is it?” 

Jonathan glances at Nancy again. “Um. We just…we were hoping we could talk.”

“Okay.” 

Nancy glances over at Robin. Robin looks back, unrelenting.

“Um,” Jonathan says again. “Alone, maybe?” 

Steve turns to Robin. She’s already made up her mind that she’s not going to leave him, not when he’s in such a vulnerable state, but her resolve starts to crumble the second she notices the desperation behind his eyes.

Please, his expression seems to say. Please, I need to do this. 

Finally, Robin folds. 

“I’m going to walk Toby,” she says reluctantly. “But by the time I get back, if you guys haven’t settled this whole thing, you’re leaving.”

“Got it,” Nancy says stiffly.

“Good,” Robin says, equally as stiff.

Then she scoops Toby off the ottoman, grabs his leash, and heads toward the door, letting it slam shut behind her.

She walks Toby around the block once, then twice, then a third time, just for good measure. Though a part of her hates the idea of Steve dealing with this alone, he’s also a grown man, and he knows what he can handle.

Or, at least, he does most of the time. 

And as much as she wants to burst into the apartment and berate Nancy and Jonathan for doing this to Steve — and possibly berate all three of them for letting a misunderstanding get this out of hand, while she’s at it — she keeps ruminating on the way Nancy and Jonathan looked, standing on her porch step. Jonathan kind of always looks a little unkempt, sure, but the heavy bags underneath his and Nancy’s eyes, like they hadn’t slept last night...that was new. And their expressions when they’d seen Steve…there’d been real concern there, Robin thinks. Real hurt, too; like they were wounded by just the sight of him. 

The idea should irritate her. It’s not like Nancy and Jonathan have anything to be hurt by. But maybe they realize that, too. Maybe the only reason they were hurt at all...was because Steve was. 

And Robin must begrudgingly admit, it’s a good sign that they came back. They must really want to fix things if they were willing to show their faces so soon after they’d stomped all over Steve’s heart. Though, if Robin is being fair, she isn’t that surprised. Steve had been too upset to see it last night, but Robin never could’ve really imagined Nancy and Jonathan leaving Steve over something like this. Jonathan’s too loyal, and Nancy’s too stubborn. After everything they’ve been through, they wouldn’t walk away from him, even if they don’t have the feelings Steve does.

There must be something Robin’s missing, though. She has no idea how a misunderstanding could’ve twisted things so much, to the point that Nancy and Jonathan fooled not just Steve, but Robin, Vickie, and everyone else who knew. They were all convinced that they were really dating, that they really loved each other. 

So Robin thinks about it. She thinks about how at ease Nancy always seems around Steve, that fond look as she’d watched him and Jonathan after laser tag. She thinks about Jonathan’s shy smile when Steve passed him the red pepper flakes, the way he’d reacted when Steve helped him bowl. She thinks about Steve describing their first date, their matching Star Wars Halloween costumes, and how, despite the way last night ended, Nancy and Jonathan still left Hawkins early on Christmas Day, just to see Steve.

Robin thinks about all of these things, all these pieces of evidence collected over the past few months. And in spite of the tension she'd just walked out on and Steve's tears last night...

Well. She thinks that there are some things that just can’t be faked.

Still, when she finally returns to the apartment, she isn’t sure what she expects to find. An argument similar to the one she barely missed last night, maybe. Possibly, Steve in tears again, or even all three of them.

What she certainly isn’t expecting is to open the door with Toby in her arms and find the three of them mid-embrace, Steve kissing Nancy and murmuring something fervently in low tones, Nancy and Jonathan both looking at him with utter relief, as though they’d been just as terrified as losing this as Steve had. 

“Well,” Robin says. “That’s one way of settling things.” 

Steve quickly pulls away from them, and all three turn to the doorway. 

Jonathan coughs. “Uh. Hey, Robin.”

Robin’s eyebrows raise. 

Steve clears his throat. His eyes look a little shiny, but Robin elects not to mention this. “Yeah, so…we’re dating now.”

Robin’s eyebrows raise higher. “For real this time?” 

Nancy pushes her hair behind her ear. Her face is slightly flushed. “For real this time.”

“And we apologized for being idiots,” Jonathan adds. “Just, by the way.”

“Good,” Robin says airily. She finally sets Toby down, who runs immediately toward Nancy, yipping happily like all is forgiven. “But just so you know, if either of you hurts him again, I’ll kill you both in excruciating ways I’m not liable to discuss.”

“Robin,” Steve says, red-faced, and then he says to Nancy and Jonathan, “She’s just kidding.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Robin.”

“It’s okay. Um — we won’t hurt him,” Jonathan says. He looks afraid of her a little, but also like he seriously means it.

“Great,” Robin says cheerily, patting him on the shoulder as she passes them by. “Then we’re all cool again.”

“Great,” Nancy deadpans.

Robin makes a face at her, but as she heads to her room so the lovebirds can continue their reunion in peace, she can’t deny that she feels a little relieved.

Jesus. Vickie will not believe any of this when she calls her to tell her about it tonight. 

If someone had told Robin a year ago that she’d be watching the ball drop on New Year’s Eve with her girlfriend, she wouldn’t have believed them.

This is because there was once a time, not too long ago, that Robin would’ve found it difficult to imagine something like that for herself. Something that…well, good. Honestly, she thought her life peaked when she survived an apocalypse. The concept of leaving Hawkins, going to school, finding a group of friends, telling her parents who she was…maybe that wouldn’t have felt impossible, per se, but it certainly would’ve been hard to wrap her head around the idea. 

Yet here she is, in her small apartment in Chicago, with friends of her own, sitting right next to the girl she was crazy about in high school — the girl she sat next to in band, the girl she fought monsters with, the girl she hasn’t stopped thinking about since 1987. 

Now, said girl kicks her feet onto the ottoman next to Toby and muses, “You know, I’ve always thought there’s something kind of sentimental and sad about the end of the year.” 

Robin glances down at Vickie, careful not to jab herself in the eye with the New Year’s Eve party hat she’s wearing, courtesy of Steve. “Really? I figured you’d be into the whole new beginnings thing.” 

“Well, I am, but…it’s kind of sad to think about how something is ending, too.” 

“Yeah,” says Nancy, who’s sitting over on the loveseat, her own askew party hat greatly contrasting the thoughtful expression on her face. “I get what you mean.”

Steve thunks his head on the back cushion of the loveseat and groans. “Oh my God, you guys are such downers. This is supposed to be a party.” 

Jonathan rolls his eyes. “Sorry, but I feel like five people does not a party make.”

“Oh, and you’re suddenly an expert on parties, Mr. Guy Who Dressed as ‘Guy Who Hates Parties’ for Halloween in 1984?”

Jonathan narrows his eyes, but Steve just grins and flicks Jonathan’s party hat, which Robin has secretly theorized that Steve had to threaten Jonathan to wear, because she cannot conceive of any other reason why he’d wear it willingly. He looks ridiculous, honestly, but they all do. And besides, he doesn’t look that put-out about it, squeezed tight with Nancy and Steve into the loveseat that was definitely intended for only two people, even though there’s an empty armchair right next to it. 

It has been a chill night, though. Steve ordered pizza, Jonathan brought a casserole, and Vickie made chocolate chip cookies that Robin assured her no less than ten times were the best she’d ever had, if only to watch the way Vickie blushed at the compliment.

She’d feel embarrassed about it if Steve wasn’t being ten times worse with Nancy and Jonathan. He’s been incredibly affectionate all night, as if making up for lost time. Several times Robin has caught him openly staring at Nancy and Jonathan with a lovestruck expression and not even pretending to look away after being caught. Clearly, they don’t mind — Nancy keeps resting her head on Steve's shoulder, and every time Steve tries to hold Jonathan's hand, he actually lets him, so long as he thinks no one else is paying attention. You’d never know Steve was sitting between the same two people who had him crying his eyes out not even a week ago with how nauseatingly in love they look, but truthfully, it’s hard for Robin to care. Not when this is the happiest she’s seen Steve in years. 

“Honestly?” Robin says as she watches Dick Clark talk to the Times Square audience on their television. “I’m usually just ready for the year to be over. Fresh start, and all that.” 

Vickie looks over at her. “Usually?”

Robin glances back, then looks away. “Usually.” She clears her throat. “But…this has been a pretty good year.”

Vickie looks at Robin innocently. “Why, did something happen?”

Steve snorts, and Robin rolls her eyes, but as Vickie grins teasingly at her, she feels herself smile back. 

“Alright, alright, shh,” Nancy says, sitting up straight. “The countdown started.”

On the television screen, Dick Clark is rallying the audience, leading them in the countdown to the new year. They all stare raptly up at the ball hanging over Times Square, excited smiles on their faces, anticipating this new chapter in their lives. As the audience counts down, they all begin to chant, too, watching the screen as the clock gets closer and closer to midnight. 

“6…5…”

Robin glances away from the TV and toward Vickie.

“4…3…”

Vickie is already looking back. Her hair, which she curled before coming over, is starting to frizz, she’s got a small smile on her face that’s growing wider by the second.  

“2…1! Happy New Year!”

Robin wishes she could pretend that she thought New Year’s kisses were a stupid cliche. She probably did think that back in high school, or even a few short years ago, when she thought she’d never get to have one. But when Vickie leans forward and Robin meets her in the middle, her hands cupping Vickie’s face and Vickie’s fingers tangling in Robin’s hair — it doesn’t feel like a cliche at all. 

Over on the loveseat, Steve kisses Jonathan, then Nancy, and when he realizes he’s smiling too much into it, he pulls away and peppers kisses across her face instead, making Nancy laugh. When Steve turns to do the same to Jonathan, Jonathan pushes his face away, but he’s laughing, too, a smile on his face that’s so big he looks almost unrecognizable. Robin opens her mouth to tell them all to get a room, but before she can, Vickie rolls her eyes and drags Robin back into a kiss, only Robin’s teeth end up clacking into Vickie’s because she’s smiling too big, too.

Tomorrow, it’ll be a new year. Tomorrow, Nancy is driving to Hawkins to see her family, and Steve’s tagging along to see Dustin and Mrs. Henderson, while Jonathan stays back in Chicago to pick up El and Will from the airport before they stay with him for the week. Tomorrow, Robin is driving Vickie home to meet her parents, who have already called to ask if Vickie has any allergies. Tomorrow begins a brand new chapter where anything could happen, all sorts of things Robin can’t possibly foresee.

But given that tonight — Vickie smiling dazzlingly up at her, the freckles on her nose standing out against the wine flush across her face — is something Robin couldn’t have foreseen either…

Well, let’s just say she’s not too worried about her odds for the new year.