#stobin 🍨

[formosusiniquis]

WIP WEEK

I am notoriously bad at completing these in a timely manner but I've got a lot i want to share and even more progress that needs to be made.

Thank you @itcanbepalped for the tag!

send me an ask with an emoji and i’ll write a bit for the associated wip and share it in my response

-

🔮 - labyrinth au - your eyes can be so cruel - in a heavy rewrite period trying to get the plot on track

🍨 - stobin twins - long fic, Robin POV with some minor steddie and ronance

⚓️ - stobin month prompts, grab bag option

💛 - stomarol smut - genderfluid Stevie, leftover from Stevie week rarepair prompt

-

No pressure tags to some folks: @thefreakandthehair, @fuctacles, @cauldronoflove, @grasslandgirl

@augustjustice, @bifuriouswaterbender, @daeshikoba, @malikat24601

[oh-stars]

WIP WEEK

Thank you @hitlikehammers for tagging me. Going to post this now and reblog throughout the weekend. Help me get some serious words down lol.

Rules: Send me an emoji in an ask, and I'll write 3 sentences from that WIP!

🐥 - you carved the space for my sadness to be seen for once (hold on to me)

🦌 - Doe & a Drop of Golden Sun

👻 - potential SHBB work

🍨 - stobin month prompts (if you send this one, give me a number 1-31)

I'll be taking asks until Sunday!

tagging -- @lady-lostmind @nomadic-wolf @sparkstar-trash @just-my-latest-hyperfixation @formosusiniquis @medusapelagia and anyone else who wants to play 💜

[shares-a-vest]

Once again, I am writing about the MET Gala, this time Stobin being judgey mean girls.

"No. No. Nope. Pass. Shoes are awful. Ugh – the hair. Not on theme. Oh – "

Steve pauses long enough for Robin to snatch the iPad from her best friend's grasp.

"Stop going so fast!" she whines, flicking back (just as quickly) to the beginning of whatever-fashion-website-Steve-found's slideshow, "I want to see who the designers are."

"I'm disappointed," Steve grouses as he stuffs his mouth with a handful of popcorn.

Robin watches as half of the handful spills down onto a pair of gross, college-era sweatpants.

"Well, I'm still judging," she holds the iPad close to her chest, away from buttery fingers, "I had zero time to look at anything while I was at work."

Steve makes an annoyed, flicking motion with his finger and gestures to the iPad. Robin rolls her eyes but resumes a much slower showcase of the MET Gala fashions again.

"Hate it," Steve groans, his judgement growing harsher than the first look through, "Boring... Yuck – that eyeshadow? Bleh – "

He cuts himself off again, this time on the picture he'd initially paused at.

"Enjoying the leather this year, are we Steven?" Robin teases.

She follows up with a smacking kiss-noise too as she leans into her best friend, who folds his arms with a defensive huff.

"Shut up!" Steve snaps.

"I promise, I give you permission to go full Miranda Priestly on my celebrity crush."

Steve looks her over before tentatively nodding and offering up the (half-empty) bowl popcorn.

"Deal."

[shares-a-vest]

"Are you sure you don't want to just come over to my place?"

Steve bites his lip, contemplating the proposal Robin has offered him several times this week, ever since he'd told her he was having lunch with his parents.

It was Father's Day after all.

His parents would be home for at least a fortnight this time, on a quick stop-over in Hawkins before leaving again, this time for a vacation somewhere. They needed "a break" his mother had said with a laboured sigh, all whistful and longing as if she wasn't making such a statement amidst a lengthy monologue about all the friends they had just caught up with in Indianapolis.

Steve guesses they were technically a business trip. Though his recollections of such trips he'd gone as a kid (back when his parents absolutely had to bring him along) did involve the odd visit to Head Office in between social gatherings that only ever felt vaguely related to his father's business.

He turns away from the wall-mounted phone in the kitchen to look out at the patio. His father is sitting on a lounge chair, drinking a coffee and, low and behold, reading his new copy of The Bourne Supremacy Steve had handed him at breakfast.

His father was impossible to buy for - so a book was always a safe enough choice, one that would at least give him a "thank you" in return with no further commentary or snark.

"Uh..." he hums into the phone as his father turns a page, "Y'know what? Maybe later."

He gasps as his mother opens the back sliding door to the kitchen, the skirt of her yellow patterned kaftan flowing along with her. He turns back to the wall, crowding the phone base.

"Steve?" his mother asks, chuckling, "You're still on the phone!"

It isn't exactly chastising, more amused like Robin's mother gets about the pair of them talking on the phone for a solid hour at a time.

He looks over his shoulder and rolls his eyes as his best friend groans at the comment.

"Are you sure?" Robin asks, tone abruptly turning serious, "You know my dad loves you, Steve."

"I'll come by later," he insists, "Promise."

"...Okay..." she sighs before hanging up.

As he mounts the speaker, Steve is greeted with a knowing look from his mother. She is holding a glass of iced tea, fresh ice cubes tinkling away in the tall glass.

"Mom, don't," he whines, hoping to get outside and drive straight into the pool and away from any further conversation.

She holds her free hand up in surrender, tilting her head, "Okay, darling."

"I'm going for a dip," he grumbles before heading out to the pool area.

"Your mother and I are headed over to the Martens soon," his father announces as Steve passes by his reclining form.

His stomach drops and he freezes mid-stride to the outdoor chair he'd designated for his towel.

"What?" he blurts out, practically shouting as he whips around.

His father sets his book in his lap and looks up, shielding his eyes from the sun with his left hand. The sunlight reflects off his shiny watch and directly into Steve's eyes.

He grimaces, quickly mirroring his father.

"But..." he begins, trying to even out his clipped tone, "You said... We... You said we were having lunch here?"

"Your mother didn't tell you?"

"But..." he repeats, his voice catching in his throat a little, "It's Father's Day."

His father stands, stretches and gathers up the beach towel he had propped under his knees.

"We wanted to see them before we headed out."

"You're here for two weeks!" Steve argues, waving his hand as if to capture the presumed time his father has to visit his oldest and most insufferable friend.

"Steve, John and Louise's son is that busy working, he doesn't have time to be sitting around on Father's Day. So, we figured we'd meet them for lunch."

"Um..." he gulps, now blinking away tears.

He closes his eyes for a moment, breathing in and out as slowly as his growing anger will allow. The sun feels like it is burning into his bare skin, now, no longer feeling like the calming warmth he had felt when he came out to access the pool earlier.

He opens his eyes to find his father turned towards the back door.

"I'm going to Robin's."

He doesn't wait for an answer as he pushes past his father and back into the kitchen. Thankfully, his mother is nowhere to be seen as he makes a beeline for the laundry room where he'd left his work clothes from yesterday with his car keys still in the pocket of his jeans.

He grabs his Member's Only jacket from the coat rack on the way out. Even though the thing is less than weather-appropriate for a Sunday in June, right now it will suffice...

"Steve!" Robin's dad beams after he opens the front door.

The man is wearing a comically bright shirt, a Hawaiian-style button-up with a primary-coloured geometric pattern and squiggly green swirls. Steve thinks his father would hate it.

"Hi, Mr Buckley," he says, offering a tight-lipped smile as he holds out a store-bought key lime pie.

"Steve, please call me Richard," the man insists, unaware that sharing a name with his own father makes Steve want to fucking scream.

Richard takes a pie with a formal nod, his smile dropping a little as Steve shuffles about on the spot. The man looks him up and down.

Shit.

He'd forgotten about the jacket just as quickly as he had shrugged it on before speeding off in his car. But Richard waves him in with an insistent hand, thankfully not prying any further. It is probably quite obvious he isn't wearing a shirt underneath. The thought makes him itch as he becomes all too aware of the slippery fabric, its lining making the back of his neck prickle with sweat.

"Robin is in her room," Richard whispers as Steve steps inside and remembers his flip-flops too as they scuff on the threshold.

"The pie is from Melvad's, sorry," is all he thinks to say.

Richard gives him a pat on the back, just as Robin begins descending the staircase, wearing a shirt just as loud as her father's, only purple and maroon.

She smiles, though her eyes suggest she is clearly worried.

"Steve's here, darling!" Richard announces, intentionally boisterous for their close proximity.

"Oh, thank god," Robin dry-sobs, making grabby hands for the pie.

But Richard snatches it up, playing a one-sided game of keep-away that Robin doesn't even attempt to buy into. He lowers his hand with a swooping flourish, looking a little disappointed.

"Anything's better than the in-laws' dry fruit pudding," he laughs as they both examine the dessert.

"Come on," Robin says, grabbing Steve's hand and yanking him towards the stairs, "This Father's Day's theme is Richard Buckley-Approved Shirts, I've already got one ready for you. It's yellow. You'll love it."

[shares-a-vest]

@steddieangstyaugust Day 9: Upside Down

wc: 547 | Rated: T | cw: Ambiguous/Unresolved Ending

Tags: Years Later, The Upside Down, Steve Harrington Angst, Searching for Eddie, Platonic Stobin (Robin Not Present), Ambiguous/Unresolved Ending

'Hope'

Steve somersaults downwards, careful to keep a tight grip on the line of rope suspended between worlds as he feels gravity even out again. He lands planted on his feet and the cracked linoleum beneath his boots echoes out loud crunching sounds.

Looking around, Steve determines that the Munson’s trailer is clear and he dusts off his hands. He pauses, deciding to forego the map he has tucked away in the inside pocket of his jacket.

He doesn’t need it.

Not after all this time.

Steve has poured over his map of Hawkins more times than he can count. He is certain he knows every square inch of his hometown.

Even if he hasn’t traversed the whole thing yet.

He didn’t get too far last week. Only made it to the Quarry before the ground started to shake. There are still tremors down here, and they can be felt up above too. But Steve made a promise that if he was down here, he would leave if such a thing happened.

He promised Robin.

And friends don’t lie.

It would be much easier if the other gates were open. Hell, Steve would even take his chances at Lover’s Lake again if it meant he didn’t have to start from the same spot every week.

He told Robin that he wouldn’t be down here too long today. His best friend wanted to head to the next town over and go to a market. And he won’t deny her a simple pleasantry, something fun to do, for once.

Before, they’d make a day of it and pile into his car at dawn, head on over to the gas station for snacks and sing the whole way. They’d go further, stay over. And he’d never once look at his watch.

But Steve won’t skip a day.

He can’t. He has to come down here.

Not too long after he had first journeyed back down here, Steve started to feel like he was being watched. He was sure it wasn’t any kind of monster or a hoard of undead bats. And El and Will said they couldn’t feel Venca, either – even if they continued to wait for him to return.

So, he has hope.

And it is why he ventures down here every week without fail.

Even when his parents are home and asking him a million questions. Even when he has work and Keith is busting his balls about flaking out on a shift.

When it’s the holidays. When Claudia insists that Steve stay with her and Dustin.

When his best friend wants to go somewhere fun.

It has been five years now.

Hawkins is mostly put back together, even if half the town moved away. Even if there is still a crack running straight down the middle of Cherry Street.

They left Eddie in the Upside Down on a Thursday night in 1986, and when Steve finally made it back, despite the protests of his friends, his body was nowhere to be found.

He hasn’t told anyone that part yet.

Steve looks at his watch. He promised Robin three hours.

He reaches for his flashlight with one hand and removes his baseball bat from its makeshift holster with the other.

Maybe today will be the day.

He hopes.

[shares-a-vest]

Steve and Robin venture out to the nearest mall for Black Friday sales. They desperately want a new stereo and speaker system, but their broke college student-slash-Steve got cut off from his parents-budget wouldn't allow for it at full price.

They did the same last year with their TV – only that time they got separated and while Steve procured the television with a lot of shoving, Robin somehow got pushed straight back out of the store.

But this year they have a plan.

And they always said it would be easier if they were one person.

So, Robin takes one of her more weathered sweaters and faded green one of Steve's said he was willing to part with, and sews one sleeve to the other.

They practise walking in step with the Frankenstein sweater in preparation (not that they really need to, but Steve insists on it).

They travel to the mall (in other separate sweaters first) and change after they park. And hey, if it keeps them warmer too while they wait, that's a bonus Robin had totally factored into her ingenious plan, thank you very much!

The wait is long and Robin charges off much faster than Steve had expected, which they squabble about all the way to the Hi-Fi section.

But they get their sound system – might even cheer and jump up and down about it.

Now they just have to figure out how to carry it all as one person...

[shares-a-vest]

Prompt: Junk Food (Discord Drabble)

"I'm telling you, Rob," Steve explains, his voice growing higher by the syllable, "The night was a total bust. We didn't even get to Weathertop before Samantha said she wanted to go home. The picnic was a disaster."

Steve slumps forward to lean against the counter between them.

"Don't blame me," Robin says, throwing her hands up, "I was just spit-balling ideas when I suggested a picnic."

Steve narrows his eyes for a good long moment before he sighs, "It's not you, it's me. Clearly I'm the problem."

"Yes, you are."

"Shut up!" Steve whines before launching himself back upright. He starts to walk out from behind the counter to peruse the store's selection of confectionery, "I need junk food."

"I'll take Skittles."

[shares-a-vest]

Prompt: Motivation (Discord Drabble)

Robin rushes through the back sliding door of Steve's house, squishing herself inside before she can even pry it open properly. She paws at her chest, catching her breath as her panic increases at the dead silence of the house.

Plus she is more than a little breathless after biking across town at break-neck speed, jumping the Harrington's side fence and then pushing the aforementioned backdoor with full force until it skipped over the lock.

But this is an emergency, she thinks as she abandons the door and crosses the kitchen.

Steve didn't answer her seven calls. Or his walkie-talkie.

Maybe his AC broke in the heat? Maybe some year-and-three-month-late bat bites finally gave him a case of Fatal Rabies.

Maybe –

Robin stops in her tracks at the sight of a very much alive Steve lying face down on his gigantic couch in nothing but his underwear. A pair of unfortunate tightie whities that leave nothing to the imagination.

She shudders and looks away, only to find Eddie looking very much the same.

Eddie is lounging on the recliner, a piece of furniture Robin had always been told was not allowed to be used by anyone, a Harrington House rule that flew out the goddamn window the second he and Steve started dating.

He is upside down, his mop of hair tied up (hanging down?) as Robin's own Emergency Scrunchie stretches out to its limits.

"Uh... guys?!" she yells.

"Eh..." they both hum in unison.

Their eyes glazed over, glued to the television set as they watch –

Robin looks at the screen –

Sports... Something.

A guy swings a bat.

Baseball!... Something.

She frowns.

"Steve! You didn't answer the phone!"

"Too hot," he mumbles through fish lips squished against a rather uncomfortable-looking embroidered pillow.

"I called seven times!"

"Eh..."

"Are you guys seriously not going to take full advantage of this bright sun-shiny day?" she says, incredulous as she realises the blinds are drawn.

"Nope," they answer, both popping the 'p' with the same amount of pop!

"So, no Pool Day? Even though it's right there in your backyard."

"No," Steve grumbles but doesn't move as he instructs, "And whatever you do, don't let the Asshole Brigade in."

"Yeah," Eddie agrees, "The lost Little Sheepies can stay lost."

He follows up with a laboured sigh – a usually cutting remark now taking monumental effort to speak into existence.

"Can I at least take a dip?" Robin wonders aloud, hopefully not giving away that she did, in fact, hide her beach bag up in Spare Bedroom No. Three last time she was here.

"Eh..."

[shares-a-vest]

Prompt: Playing hooky from work (Discord Drabble) A prompt in celebration of @hairstevington's birthday!!! Have some Stobin being silly besties 🎂🎂🎂

"Steve please."

"Nope," Steve shakes his head, popping the 'p'.

He jiggles the key to Family Video, twisting it just enough and grins, all too pleased with himself when he hears that familiar click.

"Goddamnit, Steven."

He is about to turn the handle when Robin clamps her hand down on his own and squeezes so hard that Steve swears the circulation is rapidly leaving his fingers.

"I am begging you not to make us work today."

"Rob, I gotta open up. We're late as it is and – "

"Come on," Robin begs. She contorts her face up to appear as pained as possible, all toothy and squaring her jaw and honestly, it's kinda gross, "Your chance to wield that shiny new Manager badge to my benefit is dwindling with each passing day!"

Steve purses his lips as Robin reaches up with her free hand and flicks at his orange badge – an honour bestowed upon him via the briefest of phone calls before Keith and his mom left Hawkins for good. It probably wasn't the most deserving reward after Steve and Robin had skipped out on their shift over Spring Break but, well...

He quirks a brow (which thankfully, has Robin's jaw returning to normal).

Becoming the Manager of Family Video had come with a perk (aka, date) or two...

"If I was to keep the store closed for the morning – just until lunch – what would we do?"

"A-anything you want!" Robin bargains, "It's a fine summer's day, what about your pool?"

"Can't," he challenges, trying to use their conjoined hands to push on the handle, "My parents are home."

"Fine – uh..." Robin bites her bottom lip, "The public pool. Wait – no! I don't want to spend a morning playing hooky stuck with the kiddos... Um..."

"Robin," he tuts, teasing.

"Oh! Oh!" Robin jumps up and down, freeing Steve's hand. She clicks her fingers and points at him, "My house! The sprinkler! Popsicles in the freezer!"

"Okay, okay," Steve chuckles, jiggling the key in the opposite direction.

As it locks again, Robin begins cheering.

[shares-a-vest]

Prompt: Snowed in (Discord Drabble)

Robin wipes at the window panel on the Harrington's front door. Her palm produces a high-pitched squeaking sound so she stops, clapping a now freezing-cold hand to her ear.

She grimaces, shivers and then shuffles to the nearby window for what she hopes is a better look outside.

Meanwhile, Steve violently flicks the light switch by the front door and comes up empty.

"Shit," he says despite continuing to flick the switch up and down.

"How are we going to get to work, Steve?" Robin wonders aloud, her breath fogging up the glass.

Not that it matters anyway – all she can see is frost and snow and white and cold.

She gives up on surveying their surroundings and turns to her best friend, just as Steve begins to yank on the front doorhandle.

"What are you doing?"

"Trying... to open..." Steve says through gritted teeth.

He tugs and the door opens, bringing in a gust of ice-cold wind and snow. A wave of white also cascades in from where it has gathered against the door overnight, spilling onto the entryway tiles and narrowly missing Robin's (formally, Steve's) slippers.

She shrieks, stepping back as Steve moves to shut to door.

He backs up against it, feet slipping on the now wet tiles as he pushes it closed again.

"Snow in..." he confirms with a huff, leaning against the door. He runs a hand through his hair, only taking a second to gather himself before he smiles, "Looks like we can't get to work today..."

He pouts, feigning disappointment and wiggles his brows.

"Breakfast, then a Battleship rematch?" Robin suggests.

"Sure thing," Steve replies, sizing her up.

They briefly share a challenging, competitive glare and then race to the kitchen, chanting, "Snow Day!" in unison.

[shares-a-vest]

Prompt: Tied up (Discord Drabble) *cracks knuckles. i warned the stwg i'd turn a potential spicy prompt into something silly.

"More slack!" Robin calls over her shoulder, barely moving so she can stay in place while jumping on the spot.

It elicits a huff from Max, but she follows the instruction, taking a step forward as she continues twirling the jump rope stretching across the Harrington's ample driveway.

"This isn't going to work," she says in sing-song.

"Yeah, it is," Steve says, rubbing his hands together.

He positions himself like he's about to run a sprint, watching the rhythm of Robin jumping, the rope swirling around her and skidding the pavement as she jumps once more.

"Count down from five!" Lucas says, looking Robin up and down with apprehension.

"Five!" Robin beams.

"Four," Max chimes sarcastically.

"Three," Steve says to himself.

"Two," Lucas grimaces.

"You got this, Steve," Dustin says, voice much closer to Steve's ear than it should be.

He claps a rousing hand on his back as Robin yells, "One!" and he falters, missing the count.

"Goddamn it, Dustin!" Lucas whines.

"Wait, wait!" Steve says, gesticulating to shush everyone.

He's closer to the rope now, rocking backwards with each swing. He counts in his head now, five... four... three.. two.

One.

"Suck! It! Max!" Robin, each word punctuated with a jump, "Told you Steve and I were in sync enough to Double Dutch!"

"Shit," Steve shrieks, dipping his head when the rope brushes his hair on the next upswing, "Swing the rope higher!"

He isn't sure who moves. Someone steps in too far. Or he trips... Or Robin moves her arms...

Whatever it is, the rope twists around them and Robin begins to fall.

She screams and Steve dives for her, managing to twist around at the last second to break her fall. It all sends him crunching shoulder-first onto the driveway.

"Ow!" he hisses, the rope pulling tight around his legs as if one of the kids is pulling on it.

He attempts to move his arms but they are stuck in place too, holding Robin tight. Her eyes are squeezed shut as she pants away, winded and panicked.

"Guys..." she breathes, lifting her head, "A little help? We're kinda all tied up here."

[shares-a-vest]

Prompt: Argyle (Discord Drabble) My first time writing Stragyle really got away from me...

Robin rounds the corner into the Harrington's kitchen, wondering where the hell her best friend got to. Steve went to get more beers and just never returned to the TV room, leaving her to suffer through a bickering match between Nancy and Eddie about...

Well, she doesn't exactly know what. Only that between Steve disappearing, Jonathan falling asleep on the rug and Argyle setting about making pizzas for dinner, Robin feels utterly abandoned.

She rolls her eyes at the sight awaiting her in the kitchen.

Argyle is kneading pizza dough with the utmost expertise, psychedelic print sleeves rolled up as he dons one of Mrs Harrington's frilly aprons. He's humming a tune in time with his movements, swaying along too.

And across the counter sits Steve, planted firmly in place and not fetching more beers as he stares – nay, gawks at their new friend.

She has to clap a hand over her mouth to stifle a laugh.

It's not that Steve is wracking up yet another tally on her mental 'You Suck' Board, his look of awe is endearing, if maybe just a teeny tiny bit pathetic as he leans forward like he is about to say something, likely giving Argyle a line that isn't all that smooth but will make him laugh anyway.

But then Steve shuts his gaping mouth with a click as Argyle looks up and notices Robin's lingering.

"Steve-o and I got a little carried away here," he apologises, lifting his hands so the dough stretches out and makes all these gross holes and stringy bits.

Robin shudders and looks at her best friend, who appears caught off guard. He hums, floundering a little more.

"You were supposed to be getting us beer," Robin offers and at that, Steve slips off his stool in one fluid motion.

He runs a hand through his hair and Robin swears Mr Casanova himself is blushing.

"Yeah..." he sighs with a lop-sided smile, "Sorry."

He shoots her a look – that look Steve has been giving her ever since he confessed to having a crush on Argyle about a month ago. A crush that he seems to not do anything about. Instead doing this. Lingering and gawking like a pea-brained goldfish.

It will happen.

At some point...

She thinks.

God, she hopes...

"Please hurry," she says, nodding in understanding before returning to a snarky schtick of glaring, "Nance and Eddie are gonna break the television."

"Give them this," Argyle says, grinning and tilting his head as he reaches into his layered shirt pocket for a joint.

His fingers are doughy and sticky, but Robin takes it anyway.

"Get the beer," she commands, giving her best friend a playful shove in what she thinks is the direction of the garage that might contain the beer fridge.

-🍕🍕🍕-

Steve forgets what he came out to the second garage for by the time the interior door to the house slams shut behind him.

He'd walked down the hall, past the laundry and into the main garage with Argyle on his mind, his name racing through his pea-brain like a goddamn slot machine.

Argyle with his cooking skills. His hands kneading and rolling –

Steve yelps as the broken lock clicks, sealing his fate.

"Shit!" he curses, clamping his hand over the doorknob on instinct.

He shakes it and bumps at the door with his left shoulder for good measure.

But it's no use.

He screws his eyes shut. Unfortunately, this isn't the first time he has locked himself in the garage in search of extra alcoholic beverages.

Only this time a lifeline is nearby, closer than pressing the automatic door open and rounding the whole house to the front door where he doubts he'll be heard over Eddie's lively commentary of god knows what movie the group are up to now.

He's sure he had been in the kitchen with Argyle for at least the remaining runtime of that dumb sci-fi movie that was a selection of Jonathan's.

He releases the doorknob and scrubs a hand over his face.

Jesus, how long had he been speechless and staring at Argyle kneading that dough. His hands working expertly as he hummed a tune and swayed.

Steve smiles.

Argyle, who isn't too far away with his perfect hair and his perfect hands and his perfect smile and...

He swore to himself he was going to say something this time. Make a move – something.

It should be simple enough. They've talked. They're friends. He has workshopped countless game plans with Robin – who seems to be growing increasingly annoyed with his inaction.

Steve rolls off his shoulder and slumps against the door, allowing his socks to gradually slide along the concrete slab flooring and gently lower him down to the ground.

-🍕🍕🍕-

Argyle frowns at the closed door in front of him and takes a step back.

He's sure this is the hallway Steve turned down. But then again, the guy's house is like a maze. Luckily he doesn't do anything like sleepwalking, or else he'd be in trouble when everyone finally crashes for the night.

As he reaches for the handle, Argyle wonders if Steve sleepwalks. He knows he talks in his sleep – has nightmares too.

They talked about once, after a night like tonight where they found themselves sleepless and sitting out on the back patio under the stars. Chatting quietly while everyone else slept soundly.

He stops himself at the door.

Maybe He's probably at the wrong garage. Hell, even if this is the right door, Steve still could have moved back inside.

Argyle can just imagine him walking back into the TV room, beers in hand and smiling as he offers them to his friends. He'd need to wipe the condensation off his hands onto his jeans – those tight jeans.

Argyle gulps and looks down at his flour-dusted sneakers.

Then again, Steve doesn't need someone to hold his hand to fetch some cold ones out of the garage. Maybe he wants to be alone.

Maybe their talks are just friends talking, Argyle thinks as he begins to turn to walk back down the hall into the kitchen.

If he turns the right way, that is.

But a hearty sigh comes from behind the door, followed by someone thudding against it.

"Steve?" he asks, raising his hand to tap the backs of his fingers ever-so-softly on the door.

He notices a flour smudge and flicks it away before wiping his hands on the apron he is still wearing.

"Shit."

"Wait," he says, flitting his eye over the door, "Are you stuck in there, man?"

"... Yes."

Argyle tries for the doorknob but, even after a harsh twist, turn and tug, it doesn't open.

"It won't work," Steve grumbles, "You'll need the key. I have a spare on my keychain."

"Oh, cool man," Argyle shrugs, thumbing over his shoulder, "I'll just go grab – "

"– Argyle," Steve interjects, pausing almost instantly and Argyle finds his heart skipping a beat, "Can I just tell you something first?"

[shares-a-vest]

Prompt: Snack (Discord Drabble)

"Can you stop?"

Steve rolls his eyes as he turns around.

Robin is almost the length of the store away from him, standing almost to the back wall with her trusty (and a little too authoritative) clipboard. Keith left her in charge of inventory – something about Robin being better at double-checking a list.

Whatever, Steve can relax.

At least he thought all he'd need to do today was sit at the front counter until maybe someone came in. Family Video hasn't exactly been big business since an almost apocalypse, not-earthquake ripped through town.

"What?" he asks, narrowing his eyes as he defiantly snacks on another chip.

But the ruse doesn't last long and he winces as the tang of vinegar burns his mouth. Usually, by the second or third chip, Steve develops a tolerance...

"Stop snacking!" Robin chuckles, struggling to maintain a scolding frown.

"I didn't bring my lunch!" he yells down the store, visualising his old Star Wars lunchbox sitting abandoned on the kitchen counter.

Robin points to the closest security camera.

"Keith is always watching," she warns.

"I'm good for it," Steve shrugs, sticking his hand back in the bag

Robin flips over a page on her clipboard and scribbles something down.

"What are you doing!" he startles, taking a step forward.

"Starting an itemised list of everything you just... open," Robin explains, pencil working furiously, "You treat the place like your own personal snack bar! Besides, I know you don't even like those."

She looks up, jabbing at the paper with a wide flourish of her pencil. They stare at each other for a moment, locked in a silent standoff.

Steve pops another chip in his mouth. He shudders, earning a cackling laugh from his best friend.

[shares-a-vest]

@flufftober Spring Edition Day 5: Honey & Bees

wc: 468 | Rated: G | cw: None

Tags: Platonic Stobin, Robin Buckley, Cool Aunt Robin, Steddie Dads (Eddie not present), Implied Ronance, Backyard, Springtime Flowers

'Buzz, Buzz, Buzz'

Steve’s hearing isn’t what it used to be when he was seventeen, but he is fairly certain the buzzing sounds coming from Claudia Henderson’s backyard aren’t in his head.

He flicks wet hands into the sink and haphazardly dries them on a nearby damp dishcloth so he doesn’t drip water everywhere as he heads to the back door.

And sure enough, Robin is buzzing about, rocking baby Joanie in her arms as she walks through Claudia’s modest, blooming garden.

“What are you doing, Robs?” he chuckles to himself, stepping from the back deck as his best friend now swishes the pink-clad bundle about.

“Buzz, buzz, buzz…” Robin chimes, in her own world as she holds Joanie impossibly close.

Steve moves forward, the freshly cut (by him) grass pillowing his feet as he reaches his best friend, who stands cheek-to-squished-cheek with his beaming daughter. It appears as if Robin is directing Joanie’s gaze to the nearby bees – half a dozen or so moving between a perfectly pruned patch of pink peonies.

The child points at a bee and hums, eliciting an enthusiastic nod from Robin.

“Yeah, Joans, bees!” she beams, giving Joanie’s clothed tummy the softest tickle in praise, “Bees make honey and help the flowers grow. Buzz, buzz, buzz.”

Joanie tries to mimic the sound but only blows a raspberry – a noise that is so hearty that she tips her head back and almost loses her pink sunhat.

Steve smiles and bites the inside of his cheek, refraining from gushing over a sight he is glad to have caught on the flying trip back to Hawkins. He makes a mental note to thank Wayne Munson for convincing him and Eddie that they needed to get the hell out of their tiny, baby-proofed apartment for at least one Spring weekend.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Robin glares.

But the look doesn’t last too long as Joanie begins squirming about, alerted to the presence of somebody else who might dote on her as much as her beloved Aunt Robin.

Steve tips his head to the side, catching his daughter’s eye so she doesn’t lose her hat for good.

“But look at you two…” he teasingly grins, reaching to playfully flick the brim of Joanie’s sunhat and earning a giggling squeal.

“Well…” Robin begins, feigning a grumbling tone Steve can see straight through, “What do you expect? Nancy had to stay in Chicago for work. So lucky for me, I get this little squirt all to myself. Can’t a girl be selfish when it comes to the cutest, most chubby-cheeked niece on planet Earth?”

“Fine,” Steve laughs, “Carry on with your buzz-buzz-buzzing.”

He wiggles his fingers and takes a step back, leaving them to their quality (Nancy-free) time together.

But it doesn’t mean he can’t watch on from the window!

[shares-a-vest]

Prompt: Reunion (Discord Drabble)

It's probably too much, Steve thinks as he pulls into the Buckley's driveway a solid hour before Robin estimated she would be back.

His best friend was finally coming home from college on break, arriving back in Hawkins at some point mid-afternoon with her parents. Steve had attempted (and failed) to convince her to drive herself back in her shitbox of a first car but she was still too anxious despite having her license for almost a full year now.

He'd even tried (and failed) to swoop in and drive interstate to pick her up himself but well, she does have a family that wants to see her just as bad. And it's not like this was the first time, either. Nor have they ever gone more than a week without a lengthy phone call Steve made sure would end up on his own phone bill.

But seeing Robin, being surprised by a new hairstyle, listening to her talk a mile a minute before she starts losing her breath, eagerly awaiting whatever still-somewhat-musty thrifted item she shows up in...

Steve cuts the engine and steps out of the Beemer. He decides to settle for sitting under the pine tree that towers over the Buckley's house, its size dwarfing the property so much that the roots have grown under – and cracked – the driveway in parts.

It's hot today, the true heat of summer coming just a few weeks earlier than usual.

Undeterred by the stupid decision to opt for jeans, Steve waits...

By the time the Buckley's car pulls into the driveway, Steve is already on his feet, pacing in the shade and periodically checking his watch.

Richard doesn't even get the car into park before Robin opens the back door on the driver's side a jumps out, her mother's chiding voice following – something about the dangers of such an action that is said in a way that makes Steve think his best friend's general fears about vehicular travel stems from her mother.

"Steve!" Robin beams, swishing her hair (this time, its regular light brown with the slightest hint of auburn) from her face in haste as she runs to him.

Her jacket is jangling as she goes, the red leather adorned with endless badges and chains.

"Rob!" he says, taking a single large stride to close the gap between them and Robin jumps into his arms, the pair of them oof-ing at the impact.

He only just manages to steady them before they fall, knocked askew as Robin wraps her gangly legs around his waist.

"I missed you!" they yell in unison.

[shares-a-vest]

Prompt: Napping (Discord Drabble)

cw: Steve and Robin are drunk

"Steve!"

Robin stomps her sock-covered foot on her best friend's stupid carpet, met by his stupid roaring snores as he lays splayed out on his actually stupid checked bedspread.

"I's jus'... napping..." he mumbles through fish lips, his cheek thoroughly squished into his bedsheets so hard he looks like he could get sucked right into the thing at any moment.

She rolls her eyes and stumbles forward.

He said just about as much a good hour earlier as he hopped up from the couch, all spritely as he declared he needed a nap before any more birthday festivities – alcohol-based or otherwise (that being a movie marathon they still hadn't started).

But then he'd proceeded to look steadily at the floor and ascend to stairs at a snail's pace, disappearing out of sight and leaving Robin to stare at whatever was playing on MTV all by herself – and on her own birthday!

"Steeeve!" Robin whines, clambering onto the bed and jostling the whole thing, "Ba' we need... we need to watch PrettyInPink before mid–," she hiccups as she checks her watch for confirmation that it is still in fact, her birthday, "Midnight!"

She collapses onto Steve and her eyes flutter shut, overwhelmed by the gargantuan weight of sleepiness that comes with hoisting up what little part the of blankets she can get over them.

"Jus'... a... nap... first..." Steve still manages to insist despite his slurring.

"O-kayyy..." she agrees, hugging him tight.