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envyenvys · 3 months ago

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christening my shiny new ipad with gijinka designs of my sv discord server ocs because I love them dearly 💞

More info on their names under the cut:

It truly took me forever to name these guys bc wdym her legal government name isn’t “passionate ranting”? Anyway everyone say thank you to my best friend pleco bc if I had to rely on google translate and wiktionary alone we would not be here.

So!! My character choice for all of their names was very deliberate, and I did try my best to make sure they don’t sound ridiculous (but if they do ig it’s kinda fitting for them anyway so whatever).

1. Pash

Pash’s full name is Tang Biyu, but everyone calls her Bibi. She’s the only one with an official nickname bc she just gives off those vibes. For pash, I wanted something cute, girly, and chatty to match her personality — I actually came up with her nickname first and had to work backwards.

The characters I used are these: 唐碧玉. The surname Tang (which can mean “to exaggerate”) and Biyu, meaning “jasper” (the stone). (Tang (唐) is also a homophone of tang (糖) meaning “sugar”, which I loved.)

Pash’s nickname (Bibi) sounds a lot like bibi (比比) meaning “frequently/repeatedly”, so all together her name is a sweet and pretty name for a girl that also happens to sound like “to exaggerate repeatedly”, which I think is very fitting for her haha

(Biyu (碧玉) also sounds a lot like biyu (比喻) “metaphor”, which was a fun coincidence since she’s a writer)

2. Under

Under’s name is Wang Suyuan (王夙願). I wanted something gentle and optimistic for them (even though they’re a little more chaotic than that haha). Their surname wasn’t chosen as deliberately as the others, but the meaning was nice (king/royal) and the characters sound nice together (at least to me) so it stays.

Suyuan (夙願) means “long-cherished wish”, and it fits the gentle optimistic vibe I was looking for very well. Su (夙) also has the meaning of “early morning” which was the image I had in mind when I first started looking for characters. Over all, their name has an elegant, peaceful vibe, and once the others learn it Suyuan will never live it down

3. B

I have a confession to make. Early on, when I was discussing writing the first fic with a friend in dms I made a joke like “wouldn’t it be funny if binghe obsession was just Jason Todd from batman”, and ever since then I’ve sort of been writing him as “well he’s not not jason todd” bc even now it’s still funny to me (that’s why he looks like that). He’s not actually jason, a-Jian is his own person, but there’s still a few homages built into him for the bit.

So, with that in mind, I wanted to give Ren Jian (任堅) a strong name — a little grittier than “perseverance” or “righteousness”, but not something dark like “vengeance” that would be inauspicious.

Ren (任) means “rely on, to bear, duty”, and Jian (堅) means “strong, steadfast, resolute”. It’s a nice, sturdy name that feels very “willing to put in the work” without being too optimistic, but could also still (hopefully) be something a parent would name their child on purpose.

How a-Jian ended up in that discord server is a mystery but the tonal dissonance between him and everything else will never stop being funny to me

4. DJ

Last but not least, the guy who suffered the most. DJ’s name, Liu Chang, is the simplest and (arguably) the funniest because I didn’t know what the surname Liu meant until I’d already picked out the name.

For DJ, I wanted something related to writing, like “steady hands” or the impression of confident brushstrokes. I eventually settled on liuchang (流暢) meaning “(of speech or writing) smooth and flowing”, but I didn’t quite like how it sounded with surnames (at least for him, too fancy) so I decided to simplify it by splitting it up and switching out liu (流) for the surname liu (刘).

Chang (暢) on its own means “easy/smooth/free from worry”, which is ironically funny for DJ, and apparently Liu (刘) means “to kill or destroy”?? Extremely funny together, especially for DJ, and honestly makes Liu Qingge funnier to me too (though his liu is (柳) meaning “willow”, probably to make it less blatant).

So in the end, Liu Chang’s name is a lovely homophone for “to write smoothly”, and officially means something closer to “obliterating good vibes”, and I genuinely couldn’t have picked a better name if I’d done it on purpose.

And that’s it!! Hopefully they all sound good, and I’d love to get the opinion of anyone who actually speaks mandarin bc I’m sure I’ve done something silly with at least one of them lol. Picking names is one of my favourite parts of character creation, as I’m sure you can tell, so this was incredibly fun to do.

If you read this far, thank you!! Consider checking out the fics these guys are from, or (if you’ve already been introduced) let me know what universe you think would be the funniest to stick them in! I’ve started slotting them in as background characters for various wips because they’re handy and it’s funny. Currently I’m reimagining them for a star wars wip that may or may not ever see the light of day (pash is a pink twi'lek, of course)

#sv idiot squad #<— oc tag #envy draws #peerless cucumber discord server

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envyenvys · 5 months ago

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Stranger Things | 5/5 | T | 4k | ao3

Stand Up and Shout part 5

[part 1] [part 2] [part 3] [part 4]

Part 3 of the aro stobin cinematic universe on ao3 (can be read separately)

Tags: aromantic stobin, fake dating, queerplatonic relationship

Friday, February 14th, 1986

Robin faces the next morning with an appropriate amount of dread, she thinks, for the situation she’s found herself in. Like, yeah, Chrissy and Jason’s argument wasn’t really her and Steve’s fault, but it also wasn’t not their fault either. What’s she supposed to say if she shows up and Chrissy’s still sad? Can she apologize? Will apologizing make Chrissy more upset? That would genuinely be her worst nightmare, and she’s had a lot of nightmares.

And, of course, on top of everything it’s Valentine’s Day. Chrissy’s probably miserable, Robin was too nauseous from stress to eat breakfast, and now she has to sit through an entire day dedicated to romantic love — a thing she does not experience and wasn’t too keen on even when she thought she did, on account of the whole ‘only being for straight people’ thing. Yippee.

If Munson sets one single booted foot on that table she will not be held responsible for her actions.

Gareth, keen-eyed as he is, notices this the second she steps into the band room. His eyebrows shoot straight up and he starts patting Vickie frantically on the shoulder to get her attention. Vickie looks up from her notes, frowning, and then does a double take when she sees Robin.

“Uh oh,” she says.

“Have either of you seen Nancy?”

“No,” Gareth says carefully, “why?”

“I might need her expertise,” Robin says, fighting a scowl. Hopefully not — there’s always a possibility she’ll go into the cafeteria and see Chrissy looking happy as a clam — but it’s always good to be prepared.

“In what, article writing?” Gareth asks, laughing nervously.

“Something like that.”

Vickie starts packing her notes away, tucking them neatly in a worn binder dotted with a few golden star stickers.

“I’m guessing it didn’t go very well,” she says with a sympathetic smile.

Robin sits down heavily in one of the shitty folding chairs with a groan.

“It was fine at the beginning!” she insists, because it really was. They were within normal awkwardness range back at the bowling alley, it only got weird near the end when Jason got fussy. “I don’t know what happened, one minute we were all having fun and then the next thing we knew Carver was upset, which made Chrissy upset, and by the time we got to dinner it was literally unbearable.”

“Seriously?” Gareth says, crossing his arms like he’s personally offended. “What the hell is his problem?”

Robin throws her hands up, “I don’t know! I mean I guess Steve and I started fucking around a bit because we both suck at bowling, so maybe he got annoyed?”

“Maybe he thought you were having too much fun,” Vickie suggests, sounding a little too irritated for the joke to land properly. “Ugh, don’t waste your time worrying about him. He’s the one who invited you in the first place, and he can’t even be polite?”

“I’m not worried about him,” Robin says with a sigh. “I’m worried about Chrissy, I think they might’ve had a fight because of us.”

“Seriously?” Gareth says again.

“Seriously,” Robin echoes, slumped over with her chin braced on her palms.

The double date was supposed to be something fun for all of them. Chrissy had looked so excited when she invited them, like she was genuinely looking forward to spending time with her and Steve even though they barely knew each other. The bowling wasn’t half bad either — she wouldn’t mind going back sometime, even though they clearly suck at it. Maybe they can invite Chrissy again if she still wants anything to do with them.

“Okay, I know it’s probably not the time,” Gareth starts, looking seriously at Robin, “but I have to ask. What’s the deal with you and Harrington? For real, this time.”

Robin shifts awkwardly in her seat. She knew this was coming — expected it since that first lunch on Tuesday, to be honest — but she still doesn’t really know what to say. It’s not just that she doesn’t want to explain the details of her and Steve’s queerness, she’s not sure she can. How do you explain the absence of something? How can she get them to see something that isn’t there? The gaping hole that makes them different from everyone else.

And even if she manages to get them to understand that, how could she possibly explain her relationship with Steve? What she has with Steve definitely isn’t romantic, but it’s not really platonic either — or at least not how everyone else would define it — and it’s as much familial as it isn’t. She’s not sure there’s a word for it, just like there probably isn’t a word yet for the way she and Steve don’t feel either.

It’s probably not safe and it’s probably not possible, but Robin finds herself still wanting to try anyway. Gareth and Vickie are actually her friends, somehow, and she wants them to understand.

“It’s simple, but it’s also complicated,” she says quietly, staring down at her hands. “Can we do this somewhere other than the band room?”

Gareth stares at her for a moment like he’s trying to figure her out. “We have Hellfire after school today so the room should be empty right now, does that work?”

It turns out it does. It’s only a few doors down, and relatively soundproofed. It’s a bit weirdly decorated, sure, and it looks kind of odd with all the lights on, but what the hell, it adds ambience.

She pulls out one of the folding chairs at the end of the table — all three of them ignoring the giant throne — and makes herself comfortable. Gareth and Vickie sit next to her, forming a sort of semicircle-turned-triangle.

“Okay, so,” Robin starts. Stops. “I’m not sure how to explain this. Steve and I, we’re not romantic — I told you that already, and I meant it. But it’s also kind of the closest equivalent? It’s like—” She puts her head in her hands, groaning. “Oh, I’m explaining this so badly.”

“Just keep going,” Vickie says. “Say what you can, and I’ll do my best to understand it.”

“I’m used to weird shit,” Gareth shrugs.

Robin has great friends. Irritating, but great.

“Alright, okay. Trying again.” She taps her fingers on the table in a nervous pattern. “Steve and I are soulmates, and not like in a cheesy teen movie way,” she says when Gareth threatens to roll his eyes, “I mean like, I’m him, and he’s me, you know? We’re the same, but also separate. Not two halves of the same whole, but like… two items in the same set. Twins. We aren’t dating, or in love, or having sex, or anything like that, but we aren’t really friends either. At least, not the way I’m friends with the two of you. I don’t know what to call it.”

She stole a little but from Steve’s speech to Nancy when they were first figuring it out, but it’s still kind if the only way she knows how to describe it. With Steve she can just say anything and he’ll understand — everyone else is complicated.

“Okay,” Gareth says slowly, nodding a bit like that’ll help him understand, “so what happens if you end up liking someone else?”

“There’s never going to be anyone else,” Robin snaps before she can think it through, and then blanches when she realizes what she said.

“…What?”

Robin presses her lips together until they sting. She shouldn’t have said anything, it was stupid to try and explain.

“Robin, we aren’t gonna judge you,” Vickie says softly. Her hands are clasped tight in front of her and there’s something in her face that makes Robin think she might’ve had a chance after all, in a world where she really was a lesbian. Some kindred feeling calling out to her, dread recognizing dread but also relief recognizing relief.

“I don’t feel it,” she blurts out, staring at Vickie whose eyes go wide. “Liking someone. I never have. I thought I did, but it turns out it was never, like, about me, which seems to be the important part. But even if I did, Steve is different.”

“Never?” Gareth asks incredulously. “You’ve never even had, like, a crush? Nothing?”

Robin shakes her head. “Trust me, I checked.”

“Huh,” he says, and then stares off in the distance. Vickie clenches her fists again.

“I like both,” she whispers, so quietly Robin can barely hear her. Robin sits up straight, beyond excited, and then realizes she has no idea how to respond.

“Uh, high five?” She holds her hand up, certain her face is doing something incredibly stupid.

Vickie takes one look at her and bursts out laughing.

Gareth finally goes back to the Hellfire table for lunch. He slinks over with his head down like a guilty dog but Munson barely twitches, too busy staring off into space with a thoughtful frown. Or maybe just a regular frown, it’s not like Robin would be able to tell the difference.

She’s still a little giddy from their earlier conversation, but that feeling mostly gets popped like the giant red and pink heart-shaped balloons she’s visually assaulted with the second she enters the cafeteria. The whole place looks awful — red, white, and pink streamers taped haphazardly to the walls and windows; balloons floating everywhere, eagerly trapped and popped by the room full of bored high-schoolers; confetti all over the floor. Robin has to take a moment to take it all in, stopped in her tracks with disgust. Vickie steers her further into the room.

“Come on, we have to at least say hi to Chrissy.”

Vickie’s right, of course, so Robin reluctantly follows her lead. Chrissy’s sitting with the other cheerleaders, chatting happily with a single rose held in her hands. Her smile’s a little dimmer than it was before yesterday’s catastrophe, but not enough to be concerning. She looks good.

“Robin!” Chrissy waves her over, visibly brightening. It does something to Robin’s heart to see someone other than Steve looking that excited to see her.

She takes the open seat beside Chrissy again, returning her smile.

“How are you, after yesterday?” she asks quietly. Chrissy’s face softens.

“I’m doing better now, thank you,” she says, matching Robin’s tone. “Jason apologized for getting upset, and we talked it through together. We’ve got another date tonight — a redo, though hopefully with less bowling.”

She laughs, and Robin finds herself genuinely hoping they work it out. She might not give two shits about Jason Carver, but Chrissy clearly does and Robin wants her to be happy.

“Don’t be afraid to make him grovel a bit,” Robin says sagely, and Chrissy laughs again, clear and bright.

Maybe Valentine’s isn’t a total lost cause.

Steve meets her in the parking lot after school with flowers.

“You didn’t,” she breathes, stunned despite herself.

Steve grins, offering her the bouquet — a large, sweet thing filled with tulips, white lilies, and a few other flowers Robin doesn’t know the names of. No roses, and that’s what makes Robin tear up, more than anything. This isn’t a bouquet for their little ruse, or for their audience — these flowers are for her.

“Steve.” Her voice cracks, and he pulls her close to plant a kiss on her hairline.

“I asked Nancy to pick up the kids today,” he says casually, like it’s no big deal. Like he doesn’t get anxious when he knows they’re running around without him.

“Oh my god, you—” They’re almost the same height but she still has to yank him down so she can kiss him square on the forehead.

He freezes for a moment, wide-eyed and looking like his brain is full of nothing but radio static. Then he smiles, like the sun breaking through the clouds.

“Let’s go,” she says, and he laughs. “Right now. This is so embarrassing, everyone’s looking at us.”

“They’ve been looking at us all week,” Steve says fondly. He rests his arm on the roof of the car, watching Robin vibrate in place. Her face is bright red, she can feel it.

Against her will, she glances over at the group of cheerleaders standing beside the front doors. Lori gives her a thumbs up.

“Oh my god.”

Robin skitters around the front of the car, fumbling with the passenger door.

“Get in the car,” she hisses. Steve waves at the cheerleaders. They wave back.

“Steve!”

He laughs, then gets in the car.

Their date is perfect. Of course it is, Steve ‘lists’ Harrington had the whole thing planned out from start to finish. The flowers, their outfits, dinner at Robin’s favourite restaurant — even though it has the opposite of a romantic atmosphere, which she supposes is kind of what they were aiming for anyways so even that works out perfectly.

Now they’re back at Steve’s for the end of the ‘date’ — curling up on the couch with a movie the way they always do. It’s so— it’s indescribable. It feels like they’re playing a prank, like the two of them are acting out an elaborate inside joke. Just Steve and Robin against the world, having the time of their lives breaking rules that no one else even knows they’re breaking.

She was expecting it to feel a little weird — they’re literally on a date for god’s sake — but somehow it doesn’t. Instead they’re just having the funniest night ever.

Robin tumbles after Steve into the kitchen, snickering the whole way.

“You really don’t know how to accept when you’ve lost, do you?” She teases, propping her elbows on the counter.

Steve shoots her a dry look, grabbing something out of the fridge. “I’m just saying, if we watch them back to back then we’ll know for sure which one is better.”

Robin scoffs, “We already know which one is better, dingus.”

“Alien isn’t automatically better than The Thing just because Ripley is there, and if you watch them back to back like I suggested you’ll see that,” he argues, one hand automatically going to his hip.

“Of course not,” Robin sniffs, “it also has better monsters.”

Steve scoffs, loudly. “I could fight those things easily, the demogorgon—”

He’s cut off by a knock on the door.

“Uh,” Robin says, stretching to try and see out the kitchen window, “are we expecting someone?”

“No,” Steve says with a frown. Whoever it is knocks again, a little more urgently. “I should get my bat.”

“Are you sure that’s—”

“Steve?” Chrissy’s voice floats faintly through the front door. “Robin? Is anyone— is anyone there?”

They both scramble for the door, swinging it open to see Chrissy’s tear-streaked face.

“Oh god, Chrissy,” Robin breathes, pulling her into a hug without thinking. It’s a little awkward, especially once she registers what she just did, but Chrissy burrows her face in Robin’s shoulder anyway.

Robin gives Steve a panicked look over Chrissy’s head. What the hell is she supposed to do here? Steve’s the hugger out of the two of them, and even he’s not all that touchy with anyone except Robin. Steve motions towards the living room and then disappears back into the kitchen. What the hell.

“I’m sorry,” Chrissy says once Robin starts steering them down the hall to the living room. She lets go of Robin, wiping at her eyes. It has to sting at least a little bit because her makeup’s smeared all over like a raccoon.

“I don’t know why I came here,” she says quietly, fidgeting with the cuffs of her sweater. “I just— I broke up with Jason, and my first thought was… here.”

“What happened?” Robin asks. They’d been fine earlier, Chrissy had literally told her Jason apologized and they were working through it! Maybe she really will have to ask Nancy to shoot him after all.

Chrissy covers her face with her hands. “I don’t know! I thought we were fine, but he was still upset. He said you two are a— a bad influence, but he couldn’t explain what he meant when I asked. He was just— he was so rude, and demanding, and he didn’t listen to anything I said.”

She looks up at Robin, glaring with tears trembling at the corners of her eyes. “He said he thought he’d be enough to fix me! Who says that?”

“Fix you?” Steve gives her an incredulous look, a covered plate in his hands. “Fix what? There’s nothing wrong with you!”

“Right?” Chrissy demands. “All I said was that I’d never had that much fun on a date before, but then he was like ‘I noticed’ and said… that.”

“What the fuck,” Robin says, starting to pace in agitation. “What the hell is his problem?”

She looks over at Steve, sure she’ll see her anger echoed back in his eyes, but instead he’s staring at Chrissy like he’s never seen her before.

“Steve?” she asks carefully, stepping towards him. Chrissy looks at him too, curious. He shakes himself a bit, holding up the covered plate.

“Let’s, uh. Let’s go sit down.” He gestures to the conversation pit, where they’re still set up for movie night with the extra mattress shoved on the floor between all the couch cushions. They’d just gotten the blankets and extra pillows tucked in before going to grab tonight’s secret dessert.

The title screen for The Thing is still paused, flickering quietly on the TV. Robin decides to leave it on — turning it off now would leave the room feeling serious and empty. She toes off her slippers and tumbles herself right over the edge of the pit, rolling comfortably into her little nook of pillows and cushions. Chrissy hesitates for a moment, then climbs in after her.

Steve places the plate on the floor outside the pit, since the coffee table’s been shunned to the back corner of the room. He takes the lid off and Robin gasps.

“You didn’t,” she says, staring at the little pile of handmade profiteroles like a starved wolf at a deer. “Steve!”

“They’re your favourite, of course I did,” Steve says, placing one in her hand like a treasure. He offers the plate to Chrissy. “Want one?”

“You’re getting the best birthday party in the world this year, whether you like it or not,” Robin warns before popping the cream puff in her mouth. It tastes heavenly. Of course it does.

Chrissy stares at the plate for a long moment, then, with an expression of determined defiance, snatches a profiterole and shoves the whole thing in her mouth at once. Her eyes go wide and she sags back against the cushions in wonderment.

“So,” Steve says, tapping his fingers nervously on the back of the couch. “I might be, like, way off, but can I ask you a question?”

Chrissy tenses up the slightest bit, but she nods.

Steve clears his throat. “Okay, great. Can you— do you—. How would you describe a crush?”

Robin’s eyes go wide and she sits straight up. Oh.

Chrissy frowns with a little confused laugh, “What?”

“Like…” he trails off. “This was so much easier when Nancy was here. When you get a crush, how do you know? Humour me, please.”

“Um.” Chrissy brings her knees up to her chest, brow furrowed in thought. “I guess I just know? Like, um. You know when you look at someone and they’re handsome, so you feel nervous and you want them to like you? Like that, I guess.”

Oh. That— that really sounds like what Steve was saying back in August. Robin trades a wide-eyed glance with Steve.

“Okay, and,” Robin continues, suddenly very nervous, “and the dates, you said bowling with us was the most fun you’d had?”

“Well, yeah,” Chrissy says, resting her cheek on her knees. “Whenever Jason took me out it always felt… stiff, like I had to be on my best behaviour until the date was over and we could be normal again. I didn’t know you could… go off script, I guess.”

“Oh,” Robin says, out loud this time.

Chrissy’s face scrunches up in distress, “Why? Is that not normal? Was Jason right when he said I’m broken?”

“No!” Robin rushes to assure her, patting awkwardly at Chrissy’s shoulder. “I mean, yes, kinda, but no! You’re not broken, I just” —she trades another look with Steve— “I think you might be like us.”

Chrissy stares at them, looking lost.

“It’s, uh,” Robin fumbles. Somehow this conversation isn’t any easier the second time. “Steve and I aren’t dating. We’re— you know how people can be heterosexual or homosexual? We’re, like, not-sexual. I guess. I thought liking someone was just thinking they’re hot, and Steve had, like, a list.”

“Liking how they look, getting nervous butterflies, wanting them to like me, and thinking about them a lot,” Steve supplies helpfully. “Not necessarily all at once, but enough of them. Apparently you’re not supposed to base everything off your favourite rom-coms.”

“Yeah, and dating isn’t supposed to feel like acting either. It’s supposed to be like hanging out with a friend, except romantically I guess. Jonathan wasn’t exactly clear on that.”

“He was pretty clear,” Steve argues, “we just didn’t understand because it doesn’t make sense.”

“He was clear but it also doesn’t make sense,” Robin repeats flatly, raising an eyebrow at him.

“You know what I meant.”

“You can do that?” Chrissy asks hesitantly, staring at them with something like hope in her eyes. “Not like people, I mean.”

Robin shrugs a shoulder, fiddling with her hands. “Yeah? I mean, why not?”

“Why not,” Chrissy echoes. She bursts into tears.

“Oh fuck,” Steve blurts, wrapping a blanket around her shoulders. Robin panics and starts petting Chrissy’s hair like that’ll help.

“Happy tears,” Chrissy reassures them between sobs. “I didn’t know— I thought he was right.”

“No,” Steve says firmly. “He was wrong. You’re not broken, you don’t need to be fixed, and you’re not alone.”

They both wrap Chrissy in a tight hug, almost smothered in pillows and blankets, as she cries heavy, cathartic sobs. When her tears dry up Steve sneaks out to grab Robin’s makeup wipes so she can clean up her face.

They finish up all the profiteroles during the movies — Chrissy insisted that if they were gonna let her stay then she shouldn’t derail their whole evening — and eventually settle on Alien being the better movie, with Chrissy as the tiebreaker vote. Steve threatens to bring a The Thing fan to their next movie night to even it out again, and Robin can’t resist bullying him a bit by asking him where he’d even find one.

Later, when Chrissy’s asleep, Steve sneaks off again and comes back with a small pair of boxes. They’re both the same shape as a ring box, just a little bigger, and Robin’s breath catches in her throat as she goes to open hers.

She cracks the lid carefully and then gasps, holding back tears for the third time that day. Sitting delicately inside the box is a silver charm bracelet with a single charm — a bright red mitt.

“Steve,” she breathes, and then bursts into tears when he opens his box to reveal a matching bracelet and charm.

“I was whole before I met you, and I’ll be whole after you’re gone,” he recites, looking at her with so much love that it makes her heart ache, “but you’re a fundamental part of me and I don’t make sense without you.”

“Just like the mitts,” she sobs into his shoulder, because he remembered. He remembered her stupid 4am rant about the pair of mitts she found in his attic almost word for word, and he thought it was important enough to get them matching reminders. So that every time she moves her wrist she’ll feel it shift, or hear it jingle, or see the bright flash of red, and remember how much they mean to each other.

“Yeah,” Steve says, holding her tightly. She can hear the grin in his voice. “Soulmitts.”

“Oh that was awful,” she laughs, pushing him away. “Some of your worst work.”

“Only for you,” he teases, fastening the bracelet around her wrist. “Love you, Rob.”

“Love you too, Stevie.”

Despite all the chaos, this is — without a doubt — the best Valentine’s Day she’s ever had.

[Fin.]

#aro stobin cinematic universe #envy writes #stranger things #the greatest qpr hawkins has ever seen #robin buckley #steve harrington #stranger things fic #stobin fanfic #aromantic

8 notes · View notes

envyenvys · 5 months ago

Text

Stranger Things | 4/5 | T | 3.1k | ao3

Stand Up and Shout part 4

[part 1] [part 2] [part 3]

Part 3 of the aro stobin cinematic universe on ao3 (can be read separately)

Tags: aromantic stobin, fake dating, queerplatonic relationship

Thursday, February 13th, 1986

Robin’s slowly getting used to sitting with the cheerleaders. Vickie’s taken to them like a fish to water, chatting with Cindy Greenfield and Kitty Campbell like they’ve known each other their whole lives. It’s kind of sweet, even though Robin still feels a little awkward talking to anyone except Chrissy.

Gareth’s still sitting with them too, the coward. Munson looks ready to explode.

Chrissy finds her after school to iron out the last few details. Apparently Steve was right — they’re going bowling. What do you even wear to go bowling? Robin’s bowled before, obviously, but never with, like, romantic undertones. Overtones. It was a school field trip with her fourth grade class and she bowled straight gutterballs across the board, is what she’s saying. The outfit situation was completely different.

Steve should know, he’s probably been on a ton of bowling dates.

“How am I supposed to know?” Steve says, giving her a weird look. Robin scoffs at him, betrayed.

“I don’t know, Casanova, you tell me.”

Steve rolls his eyes, “Jesus christ, you know I’m not some all-knowing expert on dating, right? And I never would’ve taken a girl bowling.”

He digs through his closet, flipping back and forth through various shirts and sweaters and who-knows-whats before taking out two identical blue polos and holding them up to his chest.

“Which one?” He holds one under his chin, then the other. Robin stares blankly at him.

“Maybe an earth tone would be better,” he mutters, turning back to the closet, “the blue’s a little summer-y.”

“I’m so obsessed with you,” Robin says wonderingly, entirely against her own will. Steve goes bright red, and she quietly decides to not tell him she meant it in more of a ‘science project’ or ‘bug in a jar’ kind of way.

Actually, who is she kidding, he probably already knows and took it as a compliment anyway.

She has to stop getting distracted by his stupid puppy-dog face, she still doesn’t have anything to wear and Steve’s muttering about ‘earth tones’ isn’t helping. It’s a sport, right? Or, well, not really, but she’s still gonna have to move, so maybe jeans aren’t the best decision.

“Should I change my pants?” she frets, twisting to examine them. There’s a hole in the left knee with a worn out patch, that’s probably not good. “Is there a lot of knee-sliding in bowling?”

Steve pokes his head out of the closet to squint judgmentally at her. “What?”

“Steve, I am begging you to give me, like, a hint.” She clasps her hands together beseechingly and he rolls his eyes. “What if I show up in what I think is a totally normal outfit, but they refuse to even let me in the building because I’ve committed some— some cardinal bowling sin? I want to make a good impression, Steve! Well, not on Carver, I don’t care about him, but Chrissy’s really nice! I don’t want to ruin her night because I wore the wrong shoes!”

“First of all, that’s not gonna happen,” Steve says, and the words sound like they should be soothing but his tone leaves something to be desired. “You’re supposed to change your shoes when you get there.”

“I’m going to throttle you,” she says very seriously. “I mean it. I’m gonna go to California and get El to open the gate again so I can throw you to the Mind Flayer.”

“Second of all,” he continues, ignoring her completely, “I’m picking your outfit, so I don’t know why you’re stressing so much over this.”

“Wait, what.” Robin stares at him, dumbfounded. He looks back at her with a sunny smile. “Are you kidding me? You’re such an asshole, oh my god.”

Steve laughs and tosses a wool sweater at her face. It’s horizontally striped with knitted patterns in the colours of autumn leaves, which she assumes are the ‘earth tones’ he was talking about before.

“Wear that with a button-up and those brown slacks you left here last week,” he says, grabbing another sweater and a pair of jeans. He tugs the sweater — a turtleneck, apparently — over his head, and Robin can’t help but notice that while its pattern is different, it has the same colours as the sweater he gave her.

“Are we matching?” she asks incredulously.

“Not yet.” He gives her a delighted little grin and shucks his current pair of jeans. He replaces them with the pair from the closet, but she’d swear on her life that they’re functionally identical. He debates between a few belts, slipping the winner on smoothly. “Hurry up and get dressed, we’re gonna be late.”

“I can’t believe we’re going on a double date in matching outfits,” she says, stealing one of his button-ups like he told her to. She checks the bottom drawer of his dresser and what do you know, she really did leave her pants here. “They’re gonna think we’re insufferable.”

“We are insufferable,” Steve says proudly — and, well, Robin can’t really disagree with him there.

She laughs fondly. “Yeah, I guess we really are.”

Jason and Chrissy are already reserving a lane when they get there. Chrissy smiles when she sees them, waving them over cheerfully. She looks adorable, all dressed up in a spring green sweater vest over a white blouse, brown corduroy skirt, and thick knitted tights. She even makes the ugly bowling shoes look cute — Robin already knows those are a lost cause for her, but Steve will probably join Chrissy in somehow making them fashionable.

Jason Carver looks fine. Nothing to write home about — he and Chrissy aren’t even matching. The bowling shoes look ugly on him, which is to be expected. They can’t all be fashion icons, she supposes.

“You two are matching!” Chrissy exclaims with delight, drawing Robin into a quick hug. She pats Chrissy awkwardly on the back. “That’s so cute, oh my gosh. Jason, why don’t we ever do that?”

Jason gives her a smile that’s only a little tight and actually feels genuine, much to Robin’s surprise.

“Just haven’t thought of it yet, I suppose,” he says, putting his arm around her shoulders. Chrissy leans into it briefly with a giggle, then steps back to take his hand instead.

“You two can get your shoes at the counter over there and meet us at lane seven,” Chrissy says, pointing helpfully across the room. “We’ll get everything set up. Do you want teams of two or all four of us together?”

“Let’s do teams,” Steve decides with a grin, nodding at Jason. Jason nods back, so it must be some kind of sports thing.

“Teams it is, then.” Chrissy smiles. Robin does an awkward aborted wave and then drags Steve over to get their shoes. She was right, they’re ugly as hell on her but Steve makes them look good. The nerve.

“Is this a bad time to mention I don’t know how to bowl?” Robin says under her breath as they make their way to lane seven. She has a death grip on Steve’s arm because these shoes are slippery as hell and one wrong move will end with her flat on her ass like Wile E. Coyote, which is so not the impression she wants to give here. “I mean, I understand the mechanics in theory, but my grasp of the coordination required to put it into practice is less than stellar.”

“I’d say it’s a bad time, yeah,” Steve says, but he doesn’t really sound annoyed about it. “Perfect time to learn, though.”

“Ugh.”

Lane seven is at the far end of the building, a little cramped and dim, but Robin doesn’t mind in the slightest because it’s also the quietest section. Well, as quiet as a bowling alley can get, at least. There are two whole lanes in between them and the next party, so they don’t have to worry about being loud or obnoxious. Actually, scratch that, they should worry a little bit about being obnoxious, because unlike the kids, Chrissy and Jason aren’t immune yet.

Anyway, the point is they have a little privacy — which, in hindsight, is probably why they reserved this lane in the first place.

Chrissy already has their sheets set up nicely at the score-keeping table, so the only thing left to do is figure out who’s going first. The boys decide the best way to settle it is a game of rock paper scissors. Personally, Robin would’ve flipped a coin or something, but it’s kind of funny watching Steve very seriously suggest best two out of three when he immediately loses, so she’s not complaining.

He loses the second round too, so Jason smugly saunters forward to grab a bowling ball. He examines it carefully, lining it up with the pins, and then takes two steps back before rushing forward to throw the ball in a very deliberate movement that Robin’s positive she won’t be able to replicate. It’s all very professional, he must’ve taken lessons or something.

He, of course, knocks three of the five pins out at once — the centre pin and the two on the right. The second ball knocks out the last two pins and he makes a cheesy little ‘whoop!’, looking back at Chrissy with a grin. He spins around in his stupid slippery shoes — doesn’t slip once, the bastard — and walks back to record his points on the sheet. At least he didn’t get a fucking strike, jesus christ.

Chrissy goes next, and it takes her all three balls but she manages to knock down all her pins too. She gives Robin a high five when she gets back.

“We are not gonna be able to follow that,” Robin mutters to Steve, watching Chrissy note down a crisp fifteen in her points box for the first round.

Steve gives her a wink and grabs a bowling ball, lining up the same way Jason did. He takes two steps back, then strides quickly forward to throw the ball. His movements are powerful and controlled, like a dancer, and the ball shoots down the lane, faster than Jason’s, to land itself directly in the gutter. Steve turns smoothly in place, planting his feet with a click, and grins at Robin.

“Did I forget to mention?” he announces, pleased as punch. “I don’t know how to bowl either.”

Steve and Robin are so, so bad at this. Like, abysmally bad. Catastrophically bad. In her first attempt, Robin threw the ball too high and it’d landed a few feet down the lane with a concerningly loud thunk. In her second attempt, she’d misjudged the amount of force required and managed to skip the ball over the barrier and into the next lane. She hadn’t knocked down any of those pins either, for the record.

So far, between the two of them, they’ve managed to drop the ball outside the lane, land it straight in the gutter, spin it so hard it turned fully around, and throw it backwards. The only thing they haven’t done is knock a fucking pin over.

Chrissy’s doing admirably, managing to knock down all her pins more often than not. Jason, the asshole, hasn’t got anything less than a spare the entire time.

“We might be setting a new record here,” Robin says as she watches Steve pencil in his fifth zero in a row.

“We’re definitely doing something,” Steve says under his breath.

“What if we threw the next one together?” Robin suggests. Steve raises an eyebrow at her. “Like both of us at the same time. It can’t be any worse than what we’re doing by ourselves.”

Steve stares at her for a moment, then snorts. “Why the hell not, sure.”

It’s Jason’s turn first — another spare, what a surprise — then Chrissy, who also gets a spare. Robin cheers.

When Robin’s turn rolls around again she exchanges a quick look with Steve and the two of them head up to the lane, snickering quietly. They stand on either side of it, one ball held between them, and slowly swing their arms back and forth to build momentum. Robin’s positive they look stupid as hell, but Steve has the brightest grin on his face and it’s the most fun she’s had all night, so she can’t really bring herself to care. She counts them down silently on her fingers and together they launch the ball.

It rolls smoothly straight down the centre of the lane. Robin watches it go, first with amusement and then with total shock as it slams into the centre pin, sending it flying into the others and knocking them all down.

“Strike!” Chrissy shouts, jumping with delight.

“Holy fuck,” Robin says. She points down the lane. “Did you— did we—? A strike!?”

Steve laughs brightly, picking her up by the waist and spinning her around. She shrieks, slapping at his arms, but tries not to wriggle too much so he doesn’t slip in his stupid shoes and drop her. He smacks a quick kiss on her forehead when he finally lets her down and she wrinkles her nose with a grin.

“Okay, okay, next one.” Robin makes a little spinning motion with her finger and Steve turns around obligingly. “Space you feet apart, I’m gonna send this one through our legs like a bridge.”

Steve snorts, “How the hell is that supposed to help?”

“It’s not,” Robin says, lining her feet up with Steve’s and tossing the ball. It speeds down the lane, clipping one if the side pins. The pin teeters for a moment and then topples over, taking the next one with it. “Nice!”

“Of course our best strategy is to be stupid,” Steve scoffs.

“Hey, if it works,” Robin shrugs. She picks up another ball and considers Steve, who’s still standing with his feet apart and his hands on his hips. “Should we try it again or shake it up a little?”

“Can I join?” Chrissy asks, popping up beside Robin. Out of the corner of her eye she can see Jason frowning, but he doesn’t say anything. “It looks fun!”

It’s probably not a good idea to sandwich Chrissy in between Steve and Robin right in front of her boyfriend, so Robin offers her the ball.

“Here, you can do the honours.”

She stands in front of Steve, lining her feet up with his again, then gestures for Chrissy to join them. Chrissy takes the ball with a grin, turning to stand in front of them.

“Like this?” she asks, checking over her shoulder to make sure she’s properly lined up. Briefly, Chrissy catches Robin’s eyes and shoots her a quick smile.

She holds the ball in front of her, testing its weight, and then confidently bowls it backwards through the bridge of their legs. It goes shooting down the lane and they all scramble around to watch. It hurtles quickly along, a testament to Chrissy’s cheerleader strength — Robin’s hadn’t gone nearly that fast — and sends all the remaining pins flying.

“Spare!”

Steve pumps a fist in the air victoriously and Chrissy tackles Robin in a hug, laughing.

“Jason! Come join us!” Chrissy holds her hand out for him, but he just stands there looking vaguely uncomfortable.

“We should start heading out,” he says with an empty sort of friendliness. “We’re gonna be late for our dinner reservation.”

“Oh,” Chrissy says. Her smile wavers, but she manages to keep it on her face. “Alright, I’ll go grab our shoes. Can you let the front desk know we’re done with the lane?”

Jason gives her another tight smile — this one noticeably less genuine than the first — and walks away.

“I’m sorry,” Chrissy says quietly once he’s out of earshot, “I don’t know what’s up with him. He usually isn’t like this.”

“It’s alright,” Steve says, and Robin nods, patting Chrissy awkwardly on the shoulder. It’s probably not the best way to comfort her but Robin’s fresh out of ideas. “He’s probably just hungry or something.”

It’s clear that none of them believe that, even Steve, but Chrissy smiles gratefully anyway.

They take separate cars to the restaurant — just the diner on Main, nothing too fancy — and Robin and Steve manage to start an argument in the five minutes it takes to drive over. Not a real argument, obviously. Steve just decides to announce that The Thing is a better horror movie than Alien, and Robin is duty bound to correct him. Loudly.

“I’m just saying—” Steve protests as they climb out of the Beemer. He trails off, attention caught by something on the other end of the parking lot. Robin follows his gaze to see Jason walking into the restaurant with Chrissy behind him, her arms crossed and head down.

“Oh that’s not good,” Robin says quietly. It looks like they had an argument too, and not the fun kind.

“No,” Steve says, his jaw set. He shuts the Beemer’s door firmly, clenching the keys briefly in his fist before tucking them in his pocket. “No, it’s not.”

The other shoe finally drops when they all sit down to dinner. The awkwardness Robin had been expecting since Chrissy first asked on Tuesday is here now, and it’s somehow worse after the easygoing atmosphere in the bowling alley.

Chrissy’s cheerful excitement from earlier is visibly dimmed, though she’s trying her best to hide it. Every time she speaks her eyes flick briefly over to Jason, like she’s making sure he’s okay. It’s awful, especially since Jason doesn’t look happy either — at least if he looked pleased with how upset she is then Robin would have an excuse to kick his ass. Instead, he just looks as miserable as the rest of them. Steve has to stop Robin from putting her foot in her mouth approximately fifty-million times, and it only gets worse the longer they’re stuck there.

Everyone’s relieved when the cheque comes.

“We’ll split it,” Steve tells the waitress with a polite smile, then adds a hefty tip. Family Video might not pay well, but after this evening if anyone deserves their hard earned dollars it’s her.

They group up awkwardly in the parking lot right outside the front doors, all of them trying to leave but none of them able to figure out how to do it yet.

“Well,” Steve says after a long moment of silence, “uh, thanks for inviting us.”

“Don’t mention it,” Jason says tightly. He looks like he really, really means it.

Chrissy pulls Robin into one last hug. It’s warm, and Robin finally manages to hug her back properly.

“Thank you,” Chrissy whispers in her ear, “I had a lot of fun.”

Me too, before the… everything, Robin thinks, but Chrissy pulls away before she gets the chance to say anything back.

“See you at school tomorrow, Robin!” Chrissy says cheerfully.

“Yeah,” Robin says, mimicking her smile. It feels weird, and a little fake — but then again, so does Chrissy’s. “See you then.”

#aro stobin cinematic universe #envy writes #stranger things #steve harrington #the greatest qpr hawkins has ever seen #robin buckley #stranger things fic #aromantic #stobin fanfic

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envyenvys · 5 months ago

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Stranger Things | 3/5 | T | 1.9k | ao3

Stand Up and Shout part 3

[part 1] [part 2]

Part 3 of the aro stobin cinematic universe on ao3 (can be read separately)

Tags: aromantic stobin, fake dating, queerplatonic relationship

Wednesday, February 12th, 1986

Robin sits with the cheerleaders again on Wednesday, which seems to upset and confuse everyone except her and the aforementioned cheerleaders. Also Vickie, because while she can be as much of a motor-mouth as Robin on a good day, she’s a lot more go-with-the-flow. Not Gareth, though — he spends the entire lunchtime wallowing at the table beside her.

“You know you can sit somewhere else, right?” Robin mutters to him after five minutes of watching him poke morosely at his pudding with a plastic spoon.

He shoots a covert glance at the Hellfire table where Munson looks apoplectic, hair all puffed up like a pomeranian. “Can I, though?” he mutters back.

Fair enough, Robin thinks. She wouldn’t want to deal with that either.

Steve shows up after school again to pick up her and the kids, which is pretty normal except for the absent kiss he drops on her forehead while ushering her into the car. Robin freezes for a moment, brain skipping like a record, before she goes bright red and ducks into the passenger seat. The cheerleaders — who all gathered outside the doors, eager to see this exact brand of drama — all cheer and clap for her, laughing delightedly. It feels so, so weird, but kind of nice? Like, the fake romance part is weird, but she’s also so incredibly proud to have Steve as her soulmate, so it sort of evens out.

The kids, of course, make exaggerated gagging noises until Steve threatens to leave them behind.

Nancy’s waiting for them in the doorway of the Wheeler house when they arrive. She watches them walk up the long driveway with sharp eyes and crossed arms, stepping aside lightly to let the kids tumble inside.

“So,” she says, eyeing Steve and Robin carefully, “apparently you two are dating.”

“Eh,” Steve says noncommittally.

Nancy sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Just get inside.”

She manages to corner them properly fifteen minutes later when they’re all clumped together in the basement. The kids are squabbling about something-or-other around the empty D&D table, and Steve and Robin are draped over each other on the couch. Yeah, this is probably why people never believe them when they say they aren’t dating, but sue her, Steve’s comfy.

“Tell me why I had to learn this from Fred, of all people,” Nancy demands, standing imperiously over them. It used to be intimidating until Robin realized that’s just how Nancy stands.

“Mike was supposed to tell you!” Robin tattles, pointing at the kid in question who makes a loud offended noise, a cookie shoved halfway into his mouth.

“And you believed him?” Nancy says dryly.

Mike makes a second loud offended noise and throws his arms out in annoyance, chewing faster.

Nancy sighs, rubbing at her temple. “Is there anything else you need to tell me?”

Steve and Robin exchange a guilty look. Nancy scowls at them.

“Spit it out.”

“Well…” Steve trails off, looking at Robin again. Robin looks back at him, wide-eyed.

Can’t you tell her? Steve’s puppy-dog eyes beg.

No! You tell her!! Robin attempts to beam telepathically into his brain.

Steve’s eyes narrow. It’s your fault, anyway.

Robin sits straight up, accidentally elbowing him in the process. Excuse me!?

Nancy clears her throat, giving them her own version of the Bitchy Eyebrow of Death — which, to be clear, is much scarier than Steve’s.

“We have a double date with Chrissy Cunningham and Jason Carver tomorrow,” Robin blurts out on instinct. She shrinks back when Nancy’s glare turns incredulous.

“You what!?” All the kids yelp at once.

“How the hell did you two manage that?”

This may possibly be the closest Nancy’s ever come to looking dumbfounded. Robin almost wishes she had a camera.

“Robin’s been super popular lately,” says Max, lounging casually against the table.

Dustin scoffs loudly, “Yeah, and it’s been ruining Hellfire!”

“And these two things are connected how?” Nancy asks flatly.

“Robin somehow managed to trick Gareth into sitting with her at the cheerleader’s table for lunch,” Mike says, scowling at them. He’s nowhere near as intimidating as Nancy, in part because his recent growth spurt left him looking like someone tried to make a snowman entirely out of twigs. “Eddie’s been insufferable about it.”

“I didn’t trick him!” Robin protests, sticking out her leg to try and kick him. He steps easily out of range, the long-legged bastard. “We’re friends!”

“Well maybe next time remember us, your other friends!” Dustin interjects, hands on his hips in a classic Steve pose. “Eddie’s threatening to make Gareth roll with disadvantage until he graduates! Which, I may remind you, has the potential to be a pretty unreasonable time-frame, considering his track record!”

“It’s already unreasonable,” Lucas complains, “he can’t still be rolling with disadvantage when we fight Vecna, we’ll get slaughtered!”

“Wait,” Steve says, squinting a bit in confusion, “until who graduates? Which one are they waiting for?”

“Whoever takes the longest,” Dustin says darkly.

Nancy claps her hands together once, startling them. “Let’s get back to the double date for a minute,” she says in a way that makes it clear this is not a suggestion.

“Do we have to?” Robin mutters, and then immediately regrets it when she catches a glimpse of Nancy’s expression. She raises her hands in a gesture of peace.

“What did they tell you? Where are you even going?”

“Bowling, I think,” Steve shrugs.

“Bowling,” Nancy repeats flatly.

“Bowling,” Steve echoes back with a nod. “Nance, I think you’re stressing too much over this, we’ll be fine. Robin and I are just the cool shiny new gossip, all they wanna do is get the details before anyone else does so they can stay at the top of the food chain. Trust me.”

Nancy sighs again, but then relaxes. She shoves lightly at Steve’s shoulder until he scoots over enough to let her join them on the couch.

“You’re right,” she says, “I’m just stressed, with all the…” She makes a broad gesture with her hand, like she means ‘everything’.

Robin makes an emphatic noise of agreement and Nancy laughs. It’s a lovely sound. She should make it more often.

“Yeah,” Steve sighs, resting his head against Robin’s. “Me too.”

At the end of the day the two of them end up in Steve’s kitchen, same as always.

“Okay,” Steve says, bracing his hands on the counter-top. Across the island, Robin blinks tiredly at him. “What’s our game plan?”

“I thought you said we’d be fine,” she complains, slumping over to rest her head on her crossed arms. It’s almost midnight; she wants to go to bed, not talk about their stupid double date.

“Yeah, but we have to figure out, like—” He makes a vague gesture, which could mean anything.

“How we want them to see us?”

Steve snaps his fingers, “Exactly.”

“Ugh, I don’t caaaare,” she whines, screwing her eyes tight like a toddler having a tantrum. It’s surprisingly cathartic. “It’s not like they’ll be able to tell. Everyone already thinks we’re dating when we’re behaving totally normal anyway.”

Steve’s suspiciously quiet so Robin cracks one eye open, then the other when she sees the look on Steve’s face.

“Stevie?” she asks hesitantly, sitting up properly on her stool. “What’s wrong?”

Steve’s silent for a long moment, then, softly, he asks, “Does it make you uncomfortable?”

“The fact that everyone thinks we’re dating?”

Steve nods, all hunched over like a dog left out in the rain.

“I know you don’t like guys — I mean you don’t like girls either, but it’s different — and I just…”

He trails off. Robin shoots to her feet, accidentally toppling her stool over, and stomps around the island to grab her soulmate by his stupid face.

“Steve Harrington,” she says as sternly as she can manage, staring him directly in the eyes, “I’m only going to say this once — actually that’s a lie, I’ll say it every day, I just said that, like, for emphasis — let me start again.”

She shuts her eyes, shakes her head to clear it, and then makes direct eye contact with Steve again. He’s smiling now though, so that’s good.

“Steve Harrington,” she says again, not as sternly as the first time because now they’re both smiling, “you are the most important person in my life. Is it a little weird that people think we’re dating? Yeah, but only because dating in general is just kinda weird. But does it make me uncomfortable that when people see me they automatically think of you? That when they see us together they assume we have the strongest type of relationship they can conceive of? That they can look at us and know I love you, even if they don’t know how?”

She smiles at him gently, brushing away the stray tear on his cheek with her thumb. He laughs, taking her face in his hands so he can lean forward and press their foreheads together.

“There’s no universe where that would make me uncomfortable,” Robin whispers, pulling him into a hug with her face tucked in his shoulder.

“I love you too, Robin,” Steve whispers back, holding her tight.

“Great,” she says, a little roughly. She rubs her face into his sweater to dry her tears and he sighs loudly. “Now that that’s settled, can we please go to bed?”

Steve laughs, “Yeah, alright.”

For the record, Robin loves sleeping next to Steve and she wouldn’t give it up for anything in the world. He’s warm, and safe, and incredibly comfortable — she almost never has nightmares when she’s sleeping curled up with him, and they’re never as bad as when she’s by herself. There’s just something about having another person there — especially when it’s Steve, maybe even only when it’s Steve — that makes sleeping so much better.

However. Sometimes he tests her patience.

“We should go on a date,” Steve mumbles into her hair right when Robin is on the edge of falling asleep.

She startles out of her sleepy haze, clutching his shirt tighter in her fist. He winces — she must’ve gotten some of his chest hair this time.

“What?” she asks blearily, kind of annoyed but mostly just confused.

“For Valentine’s.”

“Did you forget about the double date?” She adjusts her grip on his shirt.

“No, that’s” —he yawns, and then she yawns too because it’s contagious— “tomorrow. Valentine’s is Friday.”

“Why is our double date the day before Valentine’s?” She frowns. Not that she’s an expert on romance, or anything, but that seems like kind of a weird decision.

“So they can have a real one on Valentine’s,” Steve mumbles, somehow managing to make it a little bitchy. He’s so annoying, she loves him so much. “We should do that too.”

“Why would we do that?” she retorts — also a little bitchy, because she’s been spending all her time with Steve.

She needs to stop asking questions, she’s way too awake now.

“For fun,” Steve says, still mumbling into her hair because he hasn’t moved an inch, “now shush. Sleep time.”

“You’re the one who decided to start talking!” she hisses, kicking him under the covers with her icy feet.

He makes an exaggerated wounded noise and kicks her back. They scuffle for a minute before they both get too tired and give up. She snuggles up against Steve, trying to fall asleep faster.

Apparently she’s gonna need the rest, now that they have two dates to go on this week.

#aro stobin cinematic universe #envy writes #stranger things #stranger things fic #the greatest qpr hawkins has ever seen #steve harrington #robin buckley #stobin fanfic #aromantic

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envyenvys · 5 months ago

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Stranger Things | 2/5 | T | 3.5k | ao3

Stand Up and Shout part 2

[part 1]

Part 3 of the aro stobin cinematic universe on ao3 (can be read separately)

Tags: aromantic stobin, fake dating, queerplatonic relationship

Tuesday, February 11th, 1986

Yesterday’s Robin didn’t truly understand the magnitude of the problems she’d just dumped on her own plate. Yeah, I’ll just say I’m dating Steve Harrington, she’d thought, like an idiot. As if anyone can ‘just date’ Steve fucking Harrington. That would be like someone ‘just dating’ Chrissy Cunningham, which feels like a crime to even think.

Robin is, obviously, swamped by half the cheerleading squad the second she steps through the front doors. Literally anyone could have predicted this, and the only reason she didn’t is because she’s sad and naive. She’d call it a Steveism, except Steve actually knows how the popular crowd thinks, so this one’s all Robin.

Interestingly, it’s not entirely the same half of the squad as yesterday, so they must’ve done some heavy gossiping overnight.

Chrissy Cunningham is here again, looking sweet and gorgeous and generally just testing Robin’s certainty that she doesn’t actually want to date anyone. She is certain, though — no one who likes women can watch Nancy Wheeler navigate through the apocalypse and not want to date her, so the fact that Robin doesn’t is damning. Unfortunately that means she’s now stuck with a directionless aesthetic appreciation for women, who are all so very very pretty.

She’d call it a cruel world, but knowing she doesn’t have to act on any of her feelings turns out to be pretty relieving. Dating is the stuff of nightmares, and she’s glad she never has to do it.

It does also make the fact that they all think she’s Steve’s girlfriend funnier.

“Robin!” Diane Price exclaims, running up to take Robin’s hand in excitement. Robin didn’t know any of them even knew her name. “You have to come sit with us at lunch!”

The cheerleaders around her all nod and agree like a freaking Greek chorus.

“You can bring your friends, too,” Chrissy Cunningham says sweetly.

“Okay,” Robin smiles awkwardly. Being surrounded by this many pretty women feels somewhere between a dream and a nightmare. “Um, I’ll see you at lunch?”

Diane Price squeezes her hand with a bright smile before letting go, joining the rest of the cheerleaders as they chatter excitedly. They all break off into smaller groups and wander off, presumably to their respective homerooms, until the only one left is Chrissy Cunningham.

“Sorry about them,” she says, and wouldn’t you know it — bashfulness looks good on her too. “I told everyone not to overwhelm you, but, well, you know what they say — they teach cheerleaders how to project our voices, but not how to shut the fuck up.”

The laugh Robin lets out is closer to a startled bark than anything a human would make. Chrissy grins, and her eyes crinkle charmingly at the corners.

“I thought they just said that about Eddie Munson,” Robin jokes, which is true — she hears it like three times a week, usually when he’s walking on the lunch tables again. She can’t wait for the kids to find out.

“He’s a cheerleader at heart,” Chrissy says with mock solemnity, and then giggles. “Seriously, though, bring a friend. The girls are harmless, I promise, but it’s easier when the attention isn’t all on you.”

“Alright, I will,” Robin nods, and — wonder of wonders — somehow the idea of lunch doesn’t feel so daunting anymore. “Thanks for the heads up.”

Chrissy gives her a bright, Steve Harrington smile, and waves as she heads off for homeroom. Robin takes a moment to breathe and then does an abrupt about-face and heads back the way she came. Her locker can wait, there are more important things afoot.

Robin bursts into the band room, and it’s a testament to how often this happens that none of the instruments even falter. She scours the room for the red pixie cut that belongs to her second best option.

“Vickie!” she shouts, and Vickie jumps. “Help me!”

Vickie crosses her arms and gives Robin a flat look.

“Let me guess, I’m your only hope?”

“Sort of,” Robin says, bulldozing past the strings section, “it’s time sensitive, so I can’t ask Nance— wait, was that a reference?”

Gareth scoffs, “Took you long enough.”

“Don’t start with me, Emerson,” Robin threatens. “I’m in major crisis mode right now, and I don’t have time for your nerd shit.”

“I’m not even the one who said it!” Gareth protests.

“Vickie,” Robin says, ignoring him, “I need you to sit with me at lunch today.”

“Sure?” Vickie says, quirking an eyebrow in a very Steve-like manner. “Don’t we always sit together?”

“Wait, why just her?” Gareth demands. “I don’t always have to sit with Hellfire, you know.”

“You just want an excuse to sit somewhere else because Munson kicked your drink over yesterday,” Vickie teases.

“Hello?” Robin prompts, wild-eyed and incredulous. “Crisis mode? You two are terrible friends — Steve always gives me his undivided attention.”

“Not this again,” Gareth complains, rolling his eyes with a very Munson-esque flair that she hopes Dustin never picks up.

“What’s wrong, Robin?” Vickie asks, which would be very nice of her if she wasn’t also very clearly holding back laughter.

“The cheerleaders know I’m dating Steve and now they want me to sit with them at lunch.”

“Again, took you long enough,” Gareth says, rolling his eyes. It isn’t any less irritating the second time.

“God, shut up Gareth,” Robin shoots back. “We’re not actually dating, obviously, you’re almost as bad as Henderson. I’d never date Steve for real, we have like zero chemistry. Vickie, back me up here.”

“No chemistry whatsoever,” Vickie lies serenely. Gareth immediately starts snickering. “I have no idea why people would think you two are dating, it’s not like you spend every hour of every day hanging off each other and calling each other pet names.”

“That’s just friend stuff!” Robin protests, using large, vehement gestures to really drive home her point. “Extremely platonic friend things! Whatever, it doesn’t matter, I still need backup. Vickie, will you help me or do I need to find someone else?”

“I’ll go with you,” Gareth says. “Can’t wait to see how this one turns out.”

“Of course, Robin,” Vickie says, ignoring him entirely. “Still, I’m not sure if this is a good idea. Have you talked to Steve about this?”

“Of course I talked to Steve, and he’s fine with it. He’s pretty excited actually, I think he’s missed planning romantic gestures — I saw him looking up florists in the yellow pages at breakfast.”

There’s a short pause after that, where Robin tries to figure out what part, exactly, of what she just said was confusing to them.

“You had breakfast together?” Vickie asks, just a little too slowly to be casual. Robin squints.

“Yeah? We usually do?”

“And your parents are okay with feeding a whole extra person?”

“Nooo?” Robin says, drawing it out in confusion. “Steve’s always the one who cooks.”

“At your house?” Gareth asks, looking baffled.

“Why would Steve be cooking breakfast at my house?” Robin asks, exasperated.

“I dunno, you tell me!” Gareth throws his hands up.

“Wait,” Vickie says, “you two are having breakfast at his house? Why would he pick you up just to drive back to his place? That’s such a waste of gas.”

“Because he’s not?” Robin says, incredulous. How are they not getting this? “I spend the night at his place.”

“Every night?” Gareth demands. “And you’re not dating?”

“I feel like you’re getting something very different out of this than what’s actually going on,” Robin says.

“I don’t know what else we could be getting out of this,” says Gareth.

“You know what,” Robin says, giving up, “it doesn’t matter. I have a class to get to, I’ll see you all at lunch.”

She waves at them, and can’t help but laugh at the combination of Vickie’s bewildered smile and Gareth’s indignant confusion. Sure, their insistence that she and Steve are secretly in passionate heterosexual love can get frustrating, but she can’t be too hard on them — the only person who actually understands what Steve and Robin have is Argyle. Jon and Nancy are like seventy-five percent of the way there.

As she leaves she hears Gareth muttering, “What kind of relationship do they have?”

Yeah, the constant assumptions can be irritating, but after a while it’s just funny.

“Robin!” Chrissy calls, waving at her from the popular table. Beside her, Jason Carver is starting on his plain, unseasoned chicken sandwich with patented Mormon boy flair. He eats it steadily and with such a pleasant expression that for a moment Robin finds herself staring at him and wondering if it actually tastes good, somehow.

“Don’t be shy,” Stephanie Lane teases, grabbing Robin by the arm and dragging her over to the table. “Only some of us bite.”

Robin finds herself seated on Chrissy’s other side, and there’s thankfully enough space left for both Vickie and Gareth, if and when they arrive. Chrissy smiles at her and hands Robin her chocolate pudding cup with a wink.

“I invited two friends,” Robin warns her, because she needs to make sure she hasn’t fucked up this social interaction before it even started. “I hope that’s okay?”

“Of course!” says Cindy Greenfield, gesturing excitedly, and Lori Mitchell takes the opportunity to steal one of her carrot sticks with a grin. “The more the merrier!”

“You just want to see if any of them will agree with you about the peanut butter thing,” Diane says, and Lori smacks her on the arm.

“Because I’m right!” says Cindy passionately, and Robin feels a sense of déjà vu. Didn’t the kids have this same argument like, last Wednesday?

Robin’s saved from having to ask by Vickie’s red head poking through the cafeteria doors. Gareth follows after her, making a bee-line straight for Robin. He doesn’t even glance at the Hellfire table, and she knows in her bones they’re going to be hearing about that every day for the next few weeks.

“Tell me you didn’t start without us,” Gareth says, sitting down right beside Robin and forcing Vickie to take the end seat. If Robin was still under the impression she liked women — specifically Vickie, and thank god she got over that because she makes a wonderful friend now that Robin can actually talk to her — she’d be plotting his demise right about now.

She isn’t though, so Gareth can live to see another day.

“Don’t worry,” Chrissy says kindly, giving Gareth a crinkly-eyed smile that makes him look like a caught possum, “we all just got here, you’re right on time.”

“Great,” Gareth coughs out, and Jason Carver stops eating his plain sandwich long enough to give him a suspicious look.

“So, Robin,” Stephanie Lane says, leaning forward with her chin propped up on her hands, “how long have you and Harrington been dating?”

“Um,” Robin says, trying to think of what time makes the most sense for her to say. When would Alternate Universe Straight Steve And Robin have started dating? “It was kind of… during the mall fire?”

“You— what?” Stephanie says, eyes wide, and Robin remembers very abruptly that a few members of the cheer squad died there. Oops.

“Well, we were working at Scoops at the time, right?” Robin rushes to say, the words tumbling out of her mouth in an attempt to fix the vibe she just obliterated. “Scoops Ahoy. And we were doing stock in the back ‘cause the hours there sucked, like, really bad, and Steve was always taking the worst shifts because the kids — these freshmen he used to babysit — were always begging him to sneak them into the theatre and they’d complain if there weren’t any good movies on while he was working, and of course I had to work all those shitty shifts with him because he was the only one I could stand to be around for that long, and—”

Vickie reaches around Gareth to put her hand on Robin’s arm.

“Robin,” she says gently, “breathe.”

“Right, yeah. Sorry.”

“Wait, so you were there?” Cindy asks, and presses a hand to her mouth in shock when Robin nods.

“Yeah, we— um.” Robin grimaces. “We had a shift?”

The day before, but no one needs to know about the whole ‘trapped in a Russian bunker for 24 hours’ part.

“What happened?”

A few days after Starcourt, Dustin had sat them all down and made them decide on a cover story together. They’d practiced it for days, reciting it back and forth over cookies and cupcakes and tiny finger sandwiches in Steve’s living room for hours at a time until it was automatic. Robin has literally never been more thankful that Dustin’s a demanding little over-preparing genius, and she’s never ever going to tell him about it either.

“So, Steve and I were there closing up,” she starts hesitantly, speaking slower now to keep the Dustin-approved cover story straight in her head. “The kids hadn’t left the theatre yet, and Steve — he has this protective streak, like, a mile wide, he’d do anything for those kids. So he went to look for them, and I couldn’t just leave him alone, so of course I went with him. We found them in the theatre trying to evacuate the last few people, because they’ll never admit it but they take after him more than their own parents sometimes.”

Gareth makes a funny noise at that, and Robin wonders just how much time the kids spend talking about Steve.

“We managed to get them out in time, but we got stuck inside the theatre when the place started collapsing.”

It’s weird, talking about it like this. Different than how it was when they were practicing. She hadn’t expected it to feel so real — it should feel distant, like something that happened to some else, but it doesn’t. Steve and Robin were never trapped inside the burning mall, but apparently that doesn’t matter to Robin’s brain. The fake fire just reminds her of how cold it was in the bunker.

“Steve— he pushed me out of the way of a falling beam.” He took their attention off me. “He got trapped under it, I couldn’t get him out.” He took every hit for me, I couldn’t do anything to help.

Robin takes a shaky breath, pushes the memories back.

“He just smiled though, and said something stupid like ‘better me than you’, and I wanted to hit him, but I also wanted to kiss him,” she says, because she had — just not the way they’re thinking. She’d wanted to kiss his forehead the way her mom used to when she was little, and then bundle him up so nothing could ever hurt either of them again. “And that’s when I knew.”

She shrugs, avoiding Gareth’s wide-eyed stare. She’s never told anyone the cover story before, so she’s not sure what he’s thinking. She wonders what parts of her story he’s assuming are the lies.

“He ended up having to go to the hospital with a concussion, and he spent the whole ride there telling me how much he loves me,” she laughs, because he’d done that too, though Real Steve’s confessions were strictly platonic. “We were basically inseparable after that.”

“Wow,” Cindy says after a long moment. Her hand’s still over her mouth, and it looks like she’s in shock.

“God, no wonder you’re dating,” Stephanie says. “That’s like, movie shit.”

“Holy shit, Buckley,” Gareth hisses, and Robin laughs nervously.

“Yeah… so…” she taps her fingers on the table, then abruptly shoves a spoonful of pudding in her mouth.

She valiantly ignores Vickie’s resigned sigh.

“You know, I wasn’t expecting your getting-together story to be so intense, but I guess it makes sense,” Chrissy muses, resting her chin on her palm.

“Are Steve and I really that much of a surprise?” asks Robin, fidgeting with the plastic spoon.

A few of the cheerleaders nod, Chrissy included, while Lori makes a so-so gesture. Beside Robin, Gareth lets out an emphatic “Uh, yeah.”

Logically she knows that “band kid” and “Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington” don’t mix, but she’s gotten so used to him being a part of her that she forgets what it was like without him. Steve being with her is the most natural thing in the world — now the only weird part is that other people don’t see them that way.

Robin shrugs.

“He’s just kind of irresistible, you know?” she says, and Cindy Greenfield gives a dreamy sigh.

The comically disgusted look on Gareth’s face reminds Robin that “irresistible” isn’t the word most people use when they want to convey “has the general disposition of a small pampered show dog and the heart of a midwestern milf, making it very hard to hold on to petty grudges and avoid becoming friends”.

Well. The foot in her mouth is helping this time at least, but she wishes it’d stop going there.

Across the cafeteria, Eddie Munson jumps up on the table, wild-eyed and feral like a spooked raccoon. His rant — which Robin has been heroically tuning out the entire time, despite the sheer volume of it — reaches a fever pitch as he spins, planting his foot an inch away from Dustin’s sandwich. Lucas wisely takes this opportunity to drain the rest of his drink.

“—have been betrayed, forsaken! But all is not yet lost, my young friends, for all men are equal on the battlefield! Yes, even those with extra spell slots, Henderson.”

“That’d be you, Gare-bear,” Robin says, nudging Gareth with her elbow. He has his face in his hands, curled over the table like maybe if he manifests it strongly enough he can melt down into meat goo and join the Mind Flayer in bizarro-hell. She can’t say she blames him.

Abruptly, Chrissy bursts into giggles.

“You good over there, Chris?” Stephanie asks.

“I was just thinking,” she says, then giggles again. “About what I told Robin, earlier.”

Robin snorts, “Oh yeah, what was it you said? Munson’s like an honorary cheerleader, because he learned how to project his voice but—”

“—not how to shut the fuck up, yeah,” Chrissy laughs, and Gareth snorts so hard he almost falls off the bench.

“Chrissy,” Jason admonishes, but they can barely hear him over the sound of the other cheerleaders’ hysterical laughter.

“Oh my god, he is,” Diane exclaims gleefully, turning to stare at Munson, who’s too busy arguing with Jeff to notice.

The cheerleaders chatter excitedly about this for a while, not making any effort to hide it. Munson, once he notices their very blatant staring, looks comically perturbed.

Right before lunch ends, Chrissy taps Robin on the arm. She tilts her head, smiling almost nervously, her strawberry-blonde curls tumbling over her shoulder.

“Can you wait for me after school? There’s something I need to ask you.”

Robin nods numbly, mentally whacking herself over the head with a baseball bat and screaming ‘it’s NOT a date!!! Act normal you useless fucking not-lesbian!!!!’

Chrissy’s smile grows brighter, and Robin goes hunting for a bigger mental bat.

“Jason Carver asked us out,” Robin announces as soon as they’re safely inside the house and away from prying eyes. And ears. God, that had been physically painful to hold in, she’s getting acid reflux or something.

She follows Steve into the kitchen, hopping up onto her usual spot on the counter and reaching around to grab a glass out of the cupboard behind her. Steve digs through one of the drawers to hand her a pack of antacids, then takes a stick of butter out of the fridge to soften.

“Run that past me one more time?” he asks, taking the glass from her hands to fill it with water. He passes it back with the Bitchy Eyebrow of Death, so Robin wisely decides to rephrase her statement before saying it out loud again.

“Chrissy Cunningham and Jason Carver invited us on a double date?”

“Huh,” Steve says thoughtfully, then bends over to drag out the fifty-pound bag of flour. “Interesting.”

“That’s all you have to say? ‘Interesting’?”

“If you wanted a life full of clever one-liners you should’ve buddied up with Henderson.”

“And if I wanted snarky comebacks I’d be chatting with Middle Wheeler.” She kicks him in the thigh and he yelps. “Stop being mysterious, give it to me straight.”

Steve gives her an exaggerated wounded look, rubbing his thigh like the drama queen he is. Then he grins, lounging back against the opposite counter.

“Can’t do that, I can only give it to you—” he frowns, counting on his fingers for some reason, “wait, hold on. Either I can’t give it to you at all, or I’ve lost track of the analogy somewhere.”

“Steve,” Robin sighs, exasperated. “Can we please get back to the part where we have to go on the world’s worst double date?”

Steve laughs, then turns around to pull out what looks like at least three separate types of sugar.

“Alright, alright,” he says, giving her a crinkly-eyed smile — the same kind Chrissy gave a few hours ago. “Tell me the plan and we’ll figure something out.”

[part 3]

#in classic stobin fashion these two looked at the hole they found themselves in and started digging #aro stobin cinematic universe #envy writes #stranger things #stranger things fic #the greatest qpr hawkins has ever seen #steve harrington #robin buckley #stobin fanfic #aromantic

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