#dustin and robin

[loveinhawkins]

I never know what to put for these made-up fanfic titles, but! how's "boy that's never been" sound? (or girl, which is the original line, or child, which has its own flavor)

oh boy that’s never been is perfect. Congratulations/commiserations, you’ve let me unleash probably the most tragic thing I’ve ever thought of.

warning: the first section of this will have a major character death. it’ll then be followed up by an alternative take where the character is initially believed to be dead but survives, so feel free to read both or one or neither. ❤️

-

It starts with laughter, with Dustin and Eddie jumping up and down, clinging to each other, riding the high of the most metal concert in the history of the world.

Eddie drapes the guitar pick around Dustin’s neck, like giving a medal to an Olympian. “Souvenir,” he says, grinning, and Dustin’s about to speak, to probably just reiterate just how fucking cool Eddie’s playing was, but then they hear the bats come through the vents, and the words fly out of his head.

They barricade the door, and Eddie is screaming at him to, “—go! Let’s go!”, and Dustin starts to hurry up the rope. He can hear the distant crackle of his walkie, Lucas’s voice shaking with relief, “It worked, it worked, he’s out of her head.”

Dustin looks back instinctively, because by all rights, Eddie should be right behind him.

But he isn’t. He’s just standing there, watching Dustin climb, and he’s got this look on his face, and Dustin suddenly thinks oh, don’t you fucking dare.

“What the hell are you doing?” Eddie says, just as Dustin’s about to ask the very same thing. “Go!”

“Not without you.”

Eddie shakes his head. And then his eyes widen; he looks up, somewhere beyond, and Dustin doesn’t know what it is that he’s seen, but his face goes white. 

“Dustin, hurry!”

The world trembles; Dustin loses his grip on the rope, hears Eddie say, “Shit!” right before he falls, ankle giving way beneath him, and he lands flat on his back, aching and winded—

He opens his eyes. The Gate on the ceiling has knit itself shut.

“Oh, Christ, oh, Christ,” Eddie’s whispering, over and over, and he’s pulling Dustin up, “are you—”

Dustin whacks him on the shoulder. “What the fuck was that? You’re not getting left behind, asshole.”

And while he’s still so angry, Eddie must hear how his voice shakes with fear, teetering into anticipatory grief.

“Okay, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

The swarm of bats are still scratching at the door; the wood’s splintering.

“We’ve gotta get out of…” Eddie trails off, eyes darting in thought. He glances down at Dustin’s foot. “Fuck, you can’t run.”

A chorus of demonic screeching, far too close.

“Okay, c’mon, I’ve got you,” Eddie says, and he’s bearing Dustin’s weight, half-carrying him outside. Dustin hears him curse as he slams his shield against the few bats that still remain, scaling the wired fence. He makes short work of them.

He leaves Dustin on the porch, runs for the bike.

As Dustin waits, he feels a new sharp pain in his ankle—looking down, he sees one of the bats that Eddie thought he’d killed, still weakly crawling on the ground, teeth sunk deep into his skin.

He kicks, stomps on it until it lets go. There’s a trail of blood seeping down from the skin around the fibula, and he’s a little light-headed, but he thinks that’s mostly because he’s looking at it, so he simply doesn’t anymore.

Eddie comes into view, pushing the bike with a frenzied energy. He’s muttering under his breath, “Where do we go, where do we go?”

Maybe it’s down to Eddie being so panicked—suddenly Dustin has no trouble at all focusing on a solution.

“I think it worked,” he says calmly. “They’ve killed him. That’s why…”

Eddie nods, face still so pale. “Are you saying we’re stuck down—god, there’s gotta be something we can—”

“Yeah, it’s sealing up,” Dustin says hurriedly, “but I—maybe not all at once. Maybe it’s in the order of the—”

“So. Chrissy,” Eddie says shakily, “then Fred, th-then Patrick.”

“We’ve gotta go to Lover’s Lake.”

Eddie breathes out, “God, you fucking genius.”

He sits forward on the seat of the bike, so Dustin’s got enough room to sit behind him. Dustin grips onto his jacket, presses the side of his face against his back.

“Hold on tight, Henderson,” Eddie yells, and then he’s off, pedalling for their lives.

Dustin can only pray that Nancy, Steve and Robin have come to the same conclusion—his heart leaps when he sees them running across the rocky bed, to the still open Gate.

They all dive through it as quickly as they can. The only pause comes when Dustin insists Eddie go in front of him, and Eddie looks ready to fight him on it; “No time,” Steve interjects, and he gives Eddie that same kind of nod he’d given before he left the trailer park. “I’ve got him.”

“Deep breath,” Steve instructs, voice deliberately even. “Good, that’s it.” He grabs onto Dustin’s hand. “I won’t let go.”

It’s a vow; Dustin knows it.

The two of them make up the rear. Swimming through the depths of the lake is hardly scary at all, not when Dustin can see Robin and Nancy break through the surface, Eddie right behind them.

Steve’s trying to make him go in front; he can tell from the way Steve’s urging him along—but his strong kicks mean he’s always slightly ahead, no matter how hard he tries.

Dustin’s still bleeding. He can feel it. He’s kind of glad that it’s dark, honestly; he doesn’t know what Steve would do if he could see it.

They emerge up above, gasping, and they’re almost at the boat, almost home, when Dustin feels the vine wrap around his ankle.

The first tug doesn’t pull him under. But Steve’s still holding his hand, so when it happens, he feels it, too.

His head turns in alarm, and his expression is scarily similar to Eddie’s as he watched Dustin climb up the rope; and Dustin knows that Steve will never let go, not even if it kills him.

So he does.

He wrenches out of Steve’s grip. He doesn’t have time to say I’m sorry, I love you, before he’s being dragged down, and just as he’s submerged, he hears Eddie scream his name.

He tries. But he keeps sinking no matter how hard he kicks, and then, even though it’s completely illogical, even though he knows it will kill him, he simply has to breathe in.

He swallows water. It burns.

And then the burning goes away, and it doesn’t hurt at all; he just feels so, so sleepy.

The faintest impression of arms around him. And even though it doesn’t make sense, it shouldn’t be possible, he still feels a final comforting warmth at the touch.

It’s Steve, Dustin thinks for the last time. He’s got me.

-

Steve emerges with Dustin in his arms. He barely registers the screams from the boat, just yells, “Someone grab him,” and lifts him onboard.

Robin gets Dustin by the legs, and Nancy gently lowers his head. As Steve climbs aboard too, he knows he cannot even look in Eddie’s direction for fear of the expression he’ll see on his face.

“Nance, count for me,” he says.

He starts chest compressions. She counts.

Two breaths.

Compressions.

Two breaths.

“C’mon, bud,” he says, “you’ve gotta breathe, you’ve gotta cough it all up, you hear me, Dustin? Come on.”

He keeps going. He keeps going even when Nancy finally stops counting.

“Come on,” he says. His voice breaks. “Come on, kid, come on.”

“Steve,” Robin whispers.

“Don’t,” he says, because there’s something in the shattered way she says it that snaps him out of it—that makes him see Dustin, so small and so still, and his hair is so wet, and he’d usually be so pissy about that, but he’s not, he’s not saying anything.

It’s Eddie who stops him. A shaking hand on his forearm.

“Steve,” Eddie says. He’s crying. “You can—you can stop now. He’s gone. He’s gone.”

“No,” Steve says flatly.

“He’s dead,” Eddie says. His fingers dig into Steve’s skin; he chokes on his words. On a sob. “God. He’s dead, sweetheart.”

A grief-stricken keen. Later, Steve realises that it comes from him: his mouth, his throat, his heart. He pulls Dustin close, in a desperate hug that can’t be returned, as if he could somehow shield him from a fate that’s already been given.

…

Or, in a world that’s perhaps a little bit kinder:

Steve is just a fraction quicker, keeps his grip on Dustin’s hand so they’re both yanked down, down…

Steve tries his hardest; he strains and pulls as they reach the Gate, and his last sight of Dustin is his wide, fearful eyes before he slips out of his grasp. He surges forward instantly, reaches for him, but then, like a sudden tidal wave, is pushed back, back—

The Gate’s closed. Gone.

Steve frantically searches the bed of the lake, cuts his hands on perfectly ordinary rocks until his lungs burn, and he has no choice but to kick for the surface.

Eddie’s in the water too; Steve almost hits his head on his dangling feet as he comes up for air.

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie shouts. He treads water erratically, and for barely a second, he goes absolutely still. “Oh my god. Oh my god, where is he?”

“The Gate—” Steve says, and then can’t go on.

Eddie’s lips tremble, move soundlessly. “This can’t be—this isn’t happening,” he whispers. He dives under not a second later.

For a wild moment, Steve almost follows him, even though he still can’t catch his breath. Nancy pulls him onto the boat before he can try.

Eddie resurfaces, barely draws breath before speaking. “So, what’s the plan? How are we gonna—”

“Eddie,” Robin says, reaching for him. “Get out of the water.”

He acts like he can’t hear her.

“Am I not fucking speaking English or s-something? Tell me what we’re—”

“It’s over, Eddie,” Nancy says quietly. “Vecna’s dead. The Gates are closed. We… we won.”

Eddie’s shaking his head. “No, no, this isn’t—just tell me what to do! I’ll do anything, I’ll—”

“What am I gonna tell his mom?” Steve says helplessly.

He doesn’t mean to say it. But Eddie definitely hears it, because his mouth twists in grief; Robin’s finally able to pull him up onto the boat. He rests his forehead against her arm and shudders.

Nancy waits for a long while before she starts to row them back, like she’s waiting on a miracle. But the water remains eerily still.

When the boat starts to move towards the shore, the awful reality of it all finally seems to sink in for Eddie. He moves out of Robin’s arms and his hand finds Steve’s knee, squeezes tightly.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes. “S-Steve, I’m so fucking sorry, I should’ve—”

“Stop it,” Steve says. “You—you got him through—I was supposed to—”

I trusted you, and I was right; you brought him back to me.

“I let go,” Steve says through a wave of self-hatred. “I—I had him, and I let go.”

“Steve,” Eddie says, but Steve doesn’t deserve to hear the disagreement in his voice; there is nothing Eddie could say to ease this all-consuming guilt.

“I should’ve—he was my—”

Steve’s voice fails him, which is just as well. He doesn’t know how to finish that thought without it destroying him.

“I’m coming with you,” Nancy says, when they’re on dry land.

“What?” Steve says, exhausted.

“His—his mom. You’re not doing it alone.”

-

They might’ve won, but that doesn’t mean the town remained unscathed as each Gate shut. Violent tremors were felt all over; there’s a shortage of beds in the hospital, and there’s yet more people missing.

It helps Claudia accept it, at least. She’s not the only parent waiting in vain for a body to be recovered.

Nancy keeps her word, leading the explanation, but Steve forces himself to speak at the end, underlines that her son cannot come home—because he had seen how hope had destroyed the Hollands.

She nods silently.

You should hate me, Steve thinks. Hate me.

But the only emotion in her eyes is love—love and pain.

“I’m sorry,” Steve says. “I wasn’t quick enough.”

“No,” Eddie says suddenly.

He’s kept quiet up until now, hovering in a corner. Steve had tried to tell him that he didn’t have to come, that it could be dangerous for him to be seen. But even before Nancy started talking, Claudia had never once threatened to call the police.

“It was my fault,” Eddie continues. “I—”

“That’s not true,” Steve says. “Claudia, don’t listen to him, he’s—”

But Claudia is just staring at Eddie.

“You didn’t kill that poor girl,” she says.

“No,” he says, voice hoarse. “No, ma’am.”

“Dustin.” Claudia takes a deep breath. “He was protecting you.”

Eddie’s face crumples. “Yes.”

Claudia smiles sadly. Steve doesn’t know how she’s doing it, how she’s still standing—the strength it must take, for her not to scream.

“You must’ve been worth it,” she tells Eddie.

He has to leave the room, a hand covering his face.

-

There isn’t a funeral.

Claudia insists on putting up missing posters, even though it’s clear from the dullness in her eyes that she understood perfectly well what Nancy meant when she said, we lost him.

“I know it’s—” Claudia breaks off as Steve helps her make more copies. “I just—I just thought. Joyce, she…”

Steve puts up the posters around town. He can’t stand the thought of bystanders pitying the hope of a grieving mother. Not again.

-

Claudia calls, tells him to come over to the house. She says she’s got some of Dustin’s things in a box, not a lot, but just in case—just in case…

“He’d want you to have them,” she says.

Steve has to stand with the phone in his hand long after she’s hung up, breathing heavily. Then he does the round of calls. Nancy, Robin, Eddie.

He needs someone there, he knows it, otherwise he’ll never go back in the house.

He can’t face the kids. Can’t face the fact that he’s failed them.

“I—I can’t, man,” Eddie tells him over the phone, voice brittle. “I can’t go back there. I’m sorry.”

Steve doesn’t blame him.

-

Nancy gets the hint and accompanies Steve as they head into Dustin’s bedroom. Steve tries not to look at the bed, the pillows still rumpled from when Dustin last—

He picks up the small cardboard box left on the floor. He scans the top of it. It’s small things. A book on Morse Code. An almost empty can of Farrah Fawcett spray.

Nancy’s hand’s on his back, not doing anything, just resting there. She reaches into the box and picks up the can.

“You did his hair, right? For the Snow Ball?”

Steve nods. “Yeah.”

She’s smiling. “He looked so—so sweet.” She blinks rapidly, still smiling. Eyes growing wet. “I don’t know if—if he mentioned it, but. I danced with—”

“Are you kidding me?” Steve laughs, and it gets close to dangerous, to the grief spilling out, before he pulls it back at the last second. “Mentioned it? When I picked him up, it’s all he talked about. Nance, you made him feel like the coolest kid in school.”

-

Robin sits in the passenger seat, puts the box in between her knees so the things aren’t rattling about while Steve drives.

And she laughs too, except it fades off into a sob. “I forgot.”

He puts a hand out, and she takes it. “What?”

“He’d taken my library card,” she says. “So he could, um, check—” She clears her throat. “Check out more books.”

Steve’s knuckles turn white as he holds onto her. She never complains.

-

Eddie… drifts.

In some sense, Spring Break feels like a bad dream. The trailer’s back to normal, no gaping hole to another dimension in the ceiling, and the police tape gets removed so quickly that it’s almost laughable. He doesn’t care that the suspicion around him has dropped in the wake of a ‘natural disaster.’

He doesn’t really care about anything.

He keeps in touch just enough to know that Claudia is staying with her sister for a little while, left Steve the keys for watering the houseplants, probably.

And then Steve calls him from the Henderson’s house phone.

“I’m—I’m sorry, no—no-one else was picking up,” he says. “It’s—it’s his cat, I can’t—”

“Missing?” Eddie assumes, because Steve sounds one breath away from a panic attack. “Hurt?”

“No, no, just—please, can you come? Please.”

So Eddie does.

He hates every moment of the drive, but he does it.

He finds Steve in the bedroom, and fuck, it still looks so lived-in, like Dustin’s just stepped out for a moment, the room filled with nerdy teen clutter. Eddie’s sure that if he looked closely, he’d find notes from old campaigns littering the desk, but there’s no way he can remotely handle that, so he doesn’t.

There’s currently a more pressing sight, anyway.

Because Steve’s standing by Dustin’s bed, and he’s not looking at Eddie, because there’s a little Siamese cat blinking up at him.

“He’s gone,” Steve is saying.

The cat mews plaintively.

“He’s gone, okay?” Steve’s words get harsher. “What do you want me to—? He’s gone.”

Eddie steps forward, scoops up the cat—doesn’t flinch when its claws dig into him. “Come on, sweetheart, let’s get you some food.”

He goes to shut the door behind him, but not quick enough.

Steve’s not once cried throughout all of this—not anywhere that Eddie could see, at least.

He’s crying now. Silent, trembling—sinking down to the bed, a fist clenched around the sheets.

Eddie closes the door.

He gently lets the cat go when he’s in the kitchen, finds a can of wet food soon enough, in a cupboard underneath the sink.

That’s where he finds the notepad, too.

And too late, he realises it’s Dustin’s handwriting, that this was a log he’d made of each time he’d fed his cat, making sure to not repeat the same food twice in a row. ‘TUNA’ he’d scrawled in an obvious rush, like he was heading off somewhere, and then Eddie sees the date.

March 22nd.

He doesn’t know that he’s crying until Steve comes up behind him, puts a hand on his shoulder.

“Sorry,” Eddie gasps, “sorry, I’m sorry, I’m…”

Because this isn’t about him. Shouldn’t be about him.

Steve pulls him close.

I’m sorry, Eddie thinks. He was yours. I’m sorry.

“It’s okay,” Steve whispers. “It’s okay, it’s okay.”

It sounds like, You loved him, too. It’s okay.

-

Steve spends the night at the trailer.

It’s late when Eddie wakes up to an empty side of the bed. He gets up, walks slowly, slowly until he can just barely squint into the living room.

Steve doesn’t notice him. He’s standing on a chair, arm outstretched. Fingertips brushing the ceiling.

“Are you there?” he murmurs.

Eddie’s heart sinks like a stone.

Steve waits in the silence. His hand shakes.

“I’m here,” he says. “I’m here.”

-

They both know what it means—the nights together, sleeping so closely, skin to skin.

One of them will find the other lying awake, and a chaste kiss will be pressed against a shoulder, shh, shh. They don’t talk about it, don’t initiate anything more.

Their world is too heavy for it.

Steve wants to tell Dustin anyway. Wants him to give them both so much shit for it, let his goddamn horrendous ego run wild.

Tell me again, Eddie whispers at two in the morning.

Steve breathes in, out. Starts the story with a ridiculous kid tugging red roses out of his hand.

-

“Come over,” Steve says. It’s nine o’clock at night. His voice is jagged. “My place.”

Eddie finds him just standing in the hall.

“Nancy called,” he says, too matter-of-fact. “‘Bout an hour ago, Holly’s Lite-Brite lit up, almost burned her. The power went off.”

Eddie tries to temper his voice, but when he says, “Steve,” he almost cringes at the pity in it.

“Don’t,” Steve says. “I know. I know. But.” He jerks his head upstairs. “I need you. I need you to—to tell me what I’m looking at.”

The bedside lamp is on in Steve’s room. There’s a book on translating Morse Code left open on the floor.

The light is blinking.

Steve searches Eddie’s face desperately. “That’s the—that’s what you did, right? SOS?”

Eddie picks up the book. Sits on the bed, knees weak.

“Yes,” he says.

Steve closes his eyes, exhales in a shudder. “Oh my god, you can see it. Okay, okay.”

He opens his eyes, and it looks like he’s fighting with himself, caught between wanting to say more and destroying the fragile hope he has.

So Eddie says it for him.

“Dustin?”

YES.

After Eddie translates, Steve stares at the lamp. His hand reaches out. Fingers curl around thin air.

“How do we know?” he asks. “How do we know it’s—”

DUMBASS.

Steve starts to laugh. A tear falls down his cheek.

“I can hear him,” he says. “Jesus Christ, I can hear him.”

And then Eddie can, too—so, so faintly. The tiniest giggle.

He sounds exhausted.

WATERGATE. TEAR. NOT STRONG ENOUGH.

“The—the tear?” Eddie says.

ME.

“We’re coming,” Steve says. His fingertips graze the lightbulb. “We’re coming, Dustin.”

HURRY.

-

They don’t tell anyone. Steve puts his phone off the hook before they leave, because Nancy is bound to call repeatedly.

They get into the boat and push off into Lover’s Lake without a word. It’s an unspoken agreement: they’ll get him back or die trying.

They dive together. Search the river bed, stones slipping through their fingers until…

A smooth ridge of plastic. Eddie’s guitar pick.

They pull.

The gap is small, but they make it—and when they emerge into The Upside Down, there’s no particles floating around, but the air is thin.

The landscape is disappearing. Dying.

Just next to the Gate lies Dustin. His hand is outstretched, like he’d fallen while reaching towards home.

“He’s not breathing,” Eddie says, hushed and terrified.

“Tilt his head back,” Steve says, already on his knees. They don’t have time to panic. “Lift his chin.”

“Okay, okay.”

“You’re gonna do the breaths, okay? One second, then—”

“I know, I know what to—”

“You got him?”

“Y-yeah.”

Steve starts compressions. Shouts, “Now!” to Eddie when it’s time.

One second. Pause. One second.

Repeat.

“Come on, Dustin, you’ve gotta breathe,” Eddie pleads through Steve’s counting. “We’re here, we’re here, you’ve gotta—”

Steve slams on his chest. Once.

“—breathe, we love you so fucking much, just—”

Twice.

“—breathe!”

Dustin launches upwards, into Steve’s arms, coughing, coughing.

Breathing.

“That’s it,” Eddie sobs, “oh my God, that’s it.”

-

They leave when Dustin communicates through shaky hand gestures that he can hold his breath. It’s far from ideal—Steve doesn’t like it at all, but there’s no way they can linger; the hole they’d made to break through the Gate is already threatening to close.

Besides, with both him and Eddie pulling Dustin up, it’s the quickest swim of their lives.

The Gate shuts behind them, as if it had never been.

-

Up to the surface. Clinging to Dustin, hearing him gasp, splutter.

“You with me? Hey, hey, you with me?”

Dustin nods; Steve pulls him on board, Eddie right behind in case he falls.

Silence. Breathing. Dustin up against his chest, shaking.

Eddie mutters, “Here, here,” passing over the towels that they’d brought with what had felt like foolish optimism.

“You—you d-didn’t bring a ch-change of clothes?” Dustin says, with biting, wonderful sarcasm. His teeth chatter, and Eddie wraps him in another towel. “D-do I do all the th-thinking around here?”

Steve’s answering laugh turns into weeping—he runs a towel over Dustin’s hair, sobs through a smile when Dustin whines out a petulant complaint.

“I’ve got you,” Steve says. He kisses his forehead. “I’ve got you.”

“I know,” Dustin says. He shuffles closer, cuddles further into Steve’s chest even though they’re all soaking wet. “Knew… knew you’d come.” His hand reaches to the side, fumbling for Eddie. “Sorry. Think I broke your… your pick.”

Eddie just shakes his head, tearful, a hand covering his mouth.

“Yeah,” Steve says, “I really don’t think he cares, bud.”

“My mom’s gonna freak,” Dustin mumbles. His head is nodding tiredly as he says it.

“Yeah,” Steve echoes. He swallows. “She—she will.”

Eddie picks up the oar. Dustin sighs, lax with sleep. Steve can feel him breathing.

And he’ll have changed in some ways—they all have, it’s inevitable. It would be naive to think otherwise.

But the glimmer of him is still there, in his voice.

He’s back.

Steve holds Dustin tight—keeps him as warm as he can as Eddie rows, taking them home, home, home.

[kurtkankle]

talking about Steve and Eddie:

[friendsdontlieokay]

Scoops troop but Dustin and Erica are basically Stobin's children, but Robin's the papa and Steve's the mama!

[stevesbipanic]

Robin is the first teen that Dustin interacts with that is both cool and smart. He looks up to her, respects her opinion and agrees with her a lot of the time. To Dustin, Steve was cool but not smart, Nancy, was smart but not cool. While these assumptions about them may be wrong, they're right to Dustin. Robin is the kind of teen Dustin wanted to be when he was older.

Robin may have ignored him a bit once he went to high school or maybe Eddie snatched him up before they could hang but I like to think Robin looks out for him at school too, especially to make Steve feel better about his kids going to high school.

In short, Robin is cool and Dustin thinks she's awesome.

[hermionegalathynius]

The 2nd time Steve surprised you.

Fandom: Stranger Things

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Henderson!Reader

Warnings: talk of family issues on Steve’s part.

“What do you think they’re talking about in there?” You asked Robin as you kept her company while she scooped ice cream. 

  After the chaos six months ago through which Dustin’s friend Eleven closed the gaping hole in the material of the universe, you and Steve Harrington actually managed to become friends. Through babysitting Dustin and his gang of troublemakers, you began to see a lot more of the guy. At school, it seemed he had lost his ‘King Steve’ title, as well as most of his friends after his break-up with Nancy. While you had a few friends at school due to band, you mostly kept to yourself during the day, but this changed as Steve (not wanting to remain seated next to Nancy in certain classes) moved next to you. According to the boy in question, he had just asked those teachers to move him and they had coincidentally placed him next to you in every. Single. Class. 

  Not that you were complaining. When he was away from his asshole friends, Steve Harrington was a decent guy and actually pretty funny. It came as a surprise to the both of you, but conversation became really easy, and time flew by when you were together. Eventually you developed a routine where the two of you would go get Benny’s Burgers whenever you’d had to drop the kiddies off somewhere. The tradition started during the Winter Ball when Dustin had insisted Steve tag along to drop him off for emotional support. The older boy had actually come early to help your brother with his hair and show him how to style it. The image of the two of them fussing over Dustin’s untameable curls definitely shouldn’t have made your heart melt the way it did. 

  After Dustin had clambered out Steve’s BMW, you and him had decided to stop by Benny’s to get dinner while you waited for the agreed-upon time at which you needed to pick Dustin up. It was the first time you were actually spending time alone with Steve since the demodogs, and it was… nice. 

  Then, summer had arrived. You and Steve were officially graduated. While you planned to use the summer holidays as a time to rest before you moved up to Indianapolis to work in a theatre orchestra for a year, Steve’s dad made him get a job. The boy had spent a good hour sitting in the car outside Benny’s, ranting to you about how much the man infuriated him. You sympathised, expressing your own disapproval of his father’s actions and attitude towards Steve. As far as you were concerned, the man clearly didn’t know his son very well, because if he could just see the wonderful man he was growing up to be, maybe he wouldn’t be so harsh on him. 

  One of the biggest shocks that came over the summer, was Steve working alongside Robin at Scoops Ahoy. When the boy had called you halfway through his first week on the job and begged you to come save him from his mean coworker, you had been delightfully surprised to find out that his ‘mean coworker’ was in fact your friend Robin Buckley from high school band. 

  To Steve’s dismay, he ended up having to share you with Robin, who he was liking less and less now that she had you on her side. 

  That’s why, when Dustin came home from camp, he jumped at the opportunity to help the kid translate a Russian code in the back room. 

  “From what I can hear,” said Robin, replying to your question, “they are trying to decipher a secret Russian communication your strange brother intercepted on his mega-radio.”

  You had literally left the store for twenty minutes to drive Max and Eleven to Starcourt mall after the two girls had called begging you to take them. Twenty minutes, and the two boys were already looking for trouble. 

   “Russian communication?!” 

  Your friend shrugged, holding up her hand and placing her forefinger and thumb half an inch apart, “Honestly, I’m this close to marching in there and insisting I help them just so Steve will come out and switch with me.”

  Your huffed a laugh, “If you do, I’ll come with you. I don’t need to witness another one of Steve’s failed attempts at flirting with the customers.”

  Robin groaned suddenly as Lucas’s sister and her group of My Little Pony fanatics entered the store. 

  “Not again,” she muttered. 

  You winced and gave her a pat on the shoulder, “Want me to hurl Steve up here so he can deal with it?”

  She shook her head, “Nah, I’ll push through. This is my last customer for the morning though. After, you and I are gonna go help your strange brother translate his Russian code and dumbass can sling ice cream.”

  With a grin, you hopped up onto the small surface behind the counter and leant back on your hands as Robin dealt with Erica’s relentless ‘tasting’. 

  After fifteen, excruciating minutes, the gaggle of girls finally left and you and Robin were free to go into the break room. 

  “Alright, babysitting time is over, you need to get in there,” Robin stated, pushing through the door, you trailing behind her with a smirk aimed at Steve that said ‘you’re in for it now, sucker’. 

  “Hey, my board! That was important data shitbirds!” the blonde yelled, whirling on the two boys. 

  You eyes snapped to the whiteboard hanging on the wall, and sure enough, instead of the usual shipment dates and stock numbers, the Russian alphabet was written out in bright red marker with its English counterparts labelled in black. Your smirk widened and you raised your brows at Steve who was halfway through popping a piece of banana in his mouth. His eyes widened innocently and you rolled yours. 

  “I can guarantee you, what we’re doing is way more important than your data,” Dustin replied. Honestly, you weren’t sure if you should be impressed or afraid for your little brother at his adamant cheek towards your significantly scary friend. 

  “Oh yeah?” Robin challenged, walking to stand opposite the table to Dustin and Steve. Ever the loyal friend, you moved to stand beside her, crossing your arms. 

  “Yeah,” Dustin said, keeping his ground. 

  You sighed, “And how do you know these Russians are up to no good anyway?”

  The boys froze — Steve still had a mouth full of banana when Dustin demanded in a lowered tone, “How do they know about the Russians?”

  “I don’ know!” the older boy protested around the banana.

  “Did you tell them about the Russians?”

  “It wasn’t me!”

  “Hello, we can hear you!” Robin exclaimed, clearly becoming pissed off. In all honesty, you were too. Sure, you’re brother was a little science genius, but you had taught him almost everything he knew — except for all of the stuff Mr Clark had taught him. He got his passion for science from the same gene pool you did. It was about time Dustin started acknowledging your superior level of intellect as the older sibling. 

  “Actually, we can hear everything you’re saying,” you added in, “You’re both extremely loud.”

  “You think you have evil Russians plotting against our country on tape and you’re trying to translate but you haven’t figured out a single word because you didn’t realise the Russians use an entirely different alphabet than we do,” Robin continued. 

  You both watched as they looked at each other in defeat, clearly beat. Steve was refusing to meet your eyes. 

  “Sound about right?” she finished. 

  Thinking on your feet, you lurched forward, making a grab for the tape lying on the table. Steve — realising your aim — was too fast for you and grabbed the tape out from under your fingertips. 

  “Woah, woah! What are you doing?” he yelled, hugging the tape to his chest. You glared at him, blowing a flyaway strand of hair from your eyes. 

  “We want to hear it.”

  “Why?” The boys asked in unison. 

  “Because maybe we can help,” Robin said, shrugging. 

  “She’s fluent in four languages,” you pointed out, pinning your brother and your best friend with a stare. 

  Dustin perked up, “Russian?” he asked.

  “Ouyay aryay umbraday,” Robin recited. You stifled a laugh, knowing she just called Dustin dumb in pig latin. 

  “Oh ho ho ho!” Steve exclaimed. 

  “Holy shit!” said Dustin. 

  “That was pig latin, dingus,” Robin told them. 

  Steve smacked Dustin’s arm, “Idiot.”

  You rolled you eyes again. 

  “But,” Robin continued, sliding into a seat, “I can speak Spanish, and French and Italian.”

  “And we’ve both been in band for twelve years,” you added.

  “Yeah, our ears are little geniuses, trust me,” Robin finished, “What do you say?”

  She directed the last question at Steve. He laughed dryly, beginning to shake his head. 

  “Come on! It’s your turn to sling ice cream, my turn to translate! I don’t even want credit I’m just bored!” she complained, torso resting on the table too dramatically. 

  You looked at Steve and found him watching you, an expression of defeat on his face. You grinned, knowing he was about to give in. 

  “Fine,” he said, “But only if Y/n comes with to keep me company.”

  “What? No! I want to help too!” you exclaimed. 

  “Deal,” Robin said, and Steve handed her the tape. 

  You whirled a betrayed expression on Robin, “Traitor!”

  She smiled apologetically, “Sorry, kid. It’s like I told them. I’m bored.”

  You sighed, and accepted Steve’s hand to drag you back out into the store. 

  “I don’t know why you’re complaining,” he whined, “You’re my best friend.”

  Deciding to just grin and bare it, you bumped your hip against his as he grabbed a scooper, “You’re right, I’m sorry.”

  He pouted, “I’ve barely seen you this summer even though you’ve been right in the store with me.”

  Your heart warmed at his words as you jumped back onto the counter again, “You been missing me, Harrington?”

  His cheeks flushed as he leant against the counter next to you, “I…” he sighed, taking off his sailor hat and running a hand through his hair, “Every night I go home to my jackass father telling me how disappointed he is in me and explaining why I’m a terrible son. It’s been like that for as long as I can remember, and until a few months ago I had nothing to help me cope. Then I met you, and we became friends, and suddenly I could look forward to seeing you everyday.”

  You weren’t sure you were breathing. 

  “I know I don’t say it enough, but I need you. And I miss you even if you’ve only been gone five minutes.”

  “Steve,” you breathed, “I’m sorry, I didn’t realise.”

  He shrugged, finally meeting your gaze with a shaky smile, “It’s not your fault.”

  “You have to know I need you too, right?” You said, leaning against him and resting your head on his shoulder, “I’m generally someone who likes her own company, but with you I never feel like I have to back away for a moment and take a breather. Back in high school I was always a little tense in the mornings because I knew I would have to interact with people I’m not comfortable around, but then I’d get to my locker and see you standing there and suddenly I could relax.”

  Something in your chest was aching as you spoke, and the truth behind your words brought a surge of affection for the boy next to you that definitely exceeded the boundaries of friendship. 

  The two of you sat like that in comfortable silence for a moment. At some point during your confession, Steve had tilted his own head to rest on yours as his hands fiddled mindlessly with his scooper. 

  Then two familiar girls walked into the store, giggling like the children they were and you frowned.

  “Is El even allowed here? I didn’t check before I drove the two of them…” you mused.

  “Either way,” Steve said, pushing off the counter, “That’s my cue to do my job.”

[stincorrect]

Robin: We need a plan to beat him. Dustin: Okay, listen up. First, we fill his shoes with wet cat food. Robin: … Steve: … Dustin: Judge me all you want. I get results. 

[mattmurdockslover]

ROBIN BUCKLEY . . . !

warnings : none ! nothing but a cute meeting at robin's summer job.

word count : 1.0k

you had set a specific date for yourself to have fun at the mall. starcourt mall had just opened, and it was the new hit hangout place. after a few hours of hanging out and shopping, you decided to stop by 'scoops ahoy'. your friend steve had mentioned working there this summer, and you could spot his "perfect" hair from outside the doors. you couldn't help but chuckle as you walked inside, approaching the counter

"hey! (y/n)! it's nice to see you!" steve smiled, looking you up and down. it was summer time, so he hadn't been able to see you for a month. as you moved to reply back, a short-haired blonde girl flew out from the back, groaning loudly.

"steve! get your ass back there with dustin! i don't care what you do, just get him to shut up!"

steve looked to you with an apologetic look before glancing at his coworker

"jesus robin! i'm in the middle of something!" steve held out his hands to point at you as robin looked over, smiling sheepishly.

"oh.. sorry.." robin hadn't taken her eyes off of you yet. she admired how you wore your hair. and how your style was. and how you stood. steve glanced between the both of you and chuckled softly at his very obviously infatuated friend

"sorry about her, she's a little much," steve admitted as robin punched him in the arm, making him quickly run to the back. robin let out a sigh as she looked up to meet your eyes finally.

"im sorry, my name is robin and i work at scoops ahoy. how can i assist you today?" you couldn't help but let out a soft chuckle as you leaned over the counter, looking down at the ice cream flavors through the glass.

"can i get..." you hesistated, unsure of what to order. your head raised as your eyes followed, looking to robin "what do YOU recommend, robin?"robin looked unsure as well as she moved to look down at the glass enclosure.

"well personally, i like the s'mores flavor! but my coworker steve likes chocolate the best, and his bestfriend dustin prefers mint chocolate chip! but i've heard things from this little girl that says cookies and cream is the best. also a lot of customers complement us on our oatmeal raisin cookie flavor! it's made with oat milk if you can't stomach dairy, which is totally understandable because dairy makes my stomach too. i think it's a human thing. and i'm rambling, aren't i?"

you couldn't help but giggle as her cheeks flushed with embarrassment "i am so sorry- i've been wasting your time."

you quickly rose your hands to her defense, smiling "hey! you're okay! it was cute, you're cute." you spoke, as robin buckley almost melted before you. some girl had just called HER cute? what a change of scenery for once!

"i think... i'll take the s'mores. you recommended it, so it must be good. i'll take two scoops of s'mores in a.. plain cone." you reached into your back pocket to pull out your wallet, wondering if you could sneakily somehow slide your number to her. by the looks of it, robin was most definitely not straight.

robin bit her lip softly as she reached over and grabbed a chocolate dipped cone and began to scoop s'mores ice cream into it, sighing. "i'll pay for the chocolate cone. i feel bad about wasting your time." she had seemed defeated a bit. any hopes she had for herself was crushed.

at robins words, you raised your eyebrows, offering a smile. "hey, i'm serious. it was cute, don't worry." robin couldn't help but let out a soft smile, nodding. "thank you..." she paused and held out your cone. as you grabbed it from her hands, you smiled. "(y/n). my name is (y/n)." you informed as robin nodded "yes, (y/n), thank you."

you nodded as you dig out the cash for the ice cream as robin deducted the cost of the dipped cone for you. you placed the money in her hand and then a 5$ tip. she couldn't help but look up to you as you walked over to a table, grinning.

as you sat at your table, you grabbed a napkin and placed it down against the table as you pulled out a pen. you began to write against the napkin before looking up to meet robin's eyes once again. her bubbly smile assured you this was the right thing to do. you left the note on the table as you got up, pushing in your chair, and headed out to leave.

robin quickly looked back to the room where steve and dustin were in as she bursted through "steve, i need you to watch the counter. now. i need to clean the main floor." steve looked confused as he got up and patted dustin's shoulder. "you keep listening, alright? figure this out, buddy."

steve moved to leave the room to watch the counter as he watched robin happily skip over to the table you had been sitting at prior. she picked up the napkin and leaned to read the words

"i would love to go out sometime. call me ! *insert your number* - (y/n)"

robin could feel her heart pounding inside her chest as she continued to read the note over and over again. a girl.. had liked her. and wanted to go out with her. robin grabbed the napkin and headed into the back room, repeating the words on the note back to herself.

"what the hell are you doing, robin?" dustin asked, bringing robin very quickly out of her excited brain. she grumbled, rubbing the back of her neck nervously. "uh.. reading. what else do you think, doofus?"

dustin groaned as he stopped the tape recording of the russians voice, looking over robin's arm and reading the note.

"... hot chick, huh?"

"DUSTIN, I WILL GIVE YOU TO THE RUSSIANS."

[ronanceluvrr]

Robin thinks Dustin is genius child

Dustin thinks Robin is cool

They both like to make fun of Steve (affectionately)

... So why aren't they best friends already?

[alexschlitz]

eddie munson never died he tucked his arms and legs into his belly curled into a ball and he just rolled away

[loveinhawkins]

Part 1 Part 2

At night, the shivers start for no reason.

Dustin changes into his thick winter PJs, gets blankets from the linen cupboard as quietly as he can so he doesn’t wake up his mom.

His room is stuffy, but he can hardly feel it—knows that by all rights, he should be suffocating in the heat. There’s sweat on his forehead, his chest, dripping down his back, but as he wraps himself up tight in the thick cotton layers, he can’t stop himself from shaking.

His dreams are vivid, feverish.

He’s sitting with his shield next to him, blades of grass scratching at his palms. He can hear Erica laughing, but it sounds wrong. Distorted.

Then he lifts up one hand in front of his face. It’s drenched in blood.

The gasping sound of someone choking.

“D-Dustin.”

Eddie. Eddie lying on the grass, staining it red, there’s—there’s so much—

“Dustin, p-please.”

There’s an awful gurgling noise from Eddie’s throat. Dustin feels sick.

“You—Dustin, you—you’ve gotta keep it in. Please, please.”

Eddie’s crying, his hands weakly grasping at the ground, slipping in the puddles of his own blood.

“Help,” he sobs. “Help me.”

Dustin tries. The blood runs through his fingers.

“Steve,” he whispers—tries to scream, but the fear has stolen his voice. “Steve.”

Steve isn’t coming.

They’re alone, and Dustin can only watch, frozen, as Eddie convulses, gasps for air; he’s dying, he’s dying, move, do something—

He wakes with a start to his mom knocking on the door.

“Dusty, have you overslept? Can I come in?”

Dustin sits up, runs the back of his hand across his eyes. “Yeah,” he says, but it comes out hoarse; he has to stop, clear his throat. “Sorry. Yeah.”

The door opens.

His mom takes one look at him and says, “Oh, honey. No school today.” As she gets closer, her eyes flicker over the bed, the blankets, his PJs. “Are you cold?”

Dustin nods. The sheets cling to his skin, damp with cold sweat.

His mom gently runs a hand through his hair, checks his forehead. “How about I run you a bath, huh? I’ll call the school.”

Dustin’s too exhausted to bring up the fact that she’s going to be late for work if she stays much longer.

He takes the bath—once his mom has left the room, drains some of the tub so he can fill it up with scorching hot water.

When he gets out, there’s multiple tins of soup, fresh bread, and crackers on the counter; his mom’s bringing a couple meals out of the fridge, some microwave ones, too.

“Just giving you options, hon,” she’s saying, “eat whatever you’d like, I’m going to the store later. Oh, I filled up Tews’s bowl so if he complains at you, the sweet thing is lying.”

Dustin makes a wordless noise of thanks.

His bed has been stripped; new sheets and blankets have already been put on, which makes him feel a pang of shame. The window’s been left open the tiniest bit, just to let some air in, but his stomach immediately drops at the sight.

“Dustin?” His mom’s looking at him searchingly. “Honey, I can call off work—”

“No,” he says quickly. Subtly digs his nails into his palm to try and stop himself from shaking. “No, mom, m’just gonna be boring and sleep.”

She’s still frowning, but he’s gotten good over the years at knowing what expression to pull, putting just the right inflection in his voice that silently says don’t look any closer, don’t worry. She leaves him with a gentle kiss on his cheek, with her work number written down on a notepad, makes him promise that he’ll call over even the smallest thing.

He makes the promise knowing that he won’t.

Closes the window as soon as he’s alone.

-

The phone rings early afternoon. He sluggishly does the math in his head for Steve and Robin’s shift patterns this week. They always try and call if he’s sick, whenever the store is quiet: when he had tonsillitis last winter, miserable with it, they gave running commentary on the day’s most ridiculous customers, passing the phone between them until he fell asleep.

Pick up the phone, Dustin thinks.

But he feels inexplicably heavy, lets it ring and ring and ring…

The nightmare seems to flicker in front of his eyes, a lingering unease deep in his gut. He thinks of Steve, of calling for him and not getting an answer, which would never happen, which could only mean the very worst—

He stumbles out of his room and picks up the phone, interrupting Robin’s breezy customer service spiel to mumble out, “Sorry, think I missed a call from—um, is Steve there?”

“Afternoon, Einstein! You just missed him, he’s getting lunch, but he’ll be back in, like—”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Dustin says, feeling stupid and abruptly, mortifyingly young. “Just… just checking.”

There’s a fraction of a pause.

“Hey, Dustin?” Robin says, quieter now. Gentle. Dustin wants to cry. “You can wait with me, you don’t have to talk if you don’t want to. Are you—”

He hangs up.

-

Time slips away from him. It’s only after the school day’s over that he realises his mistake: that when he’s sick, he usually whines and complains, asks for updates every class, even if it’s just whether Mike’s added to their drawings left underneath their cafeteria table.

He’s kept his walkie off all day.

He searches for it, clumsily turning in his bed, and when he switches it on, it’s to hear Mike repeatedly asking, “Dustin, do you copy?”

“Here,” Dustin says blearily, then remembers himself. “I copy. Over.”

“God, finally,” Mike says in that short way that means he’s been desperately worried. “You okay? They marked you off sick in home room, but I didn’t—”

“M’not really,” Dustin says—doesn’t know what he is, honestly. “Just. Kinda tired. Over.”

“Okay,” Mike says, after a pause. “Um, Nancy says if you feel better, she can pick you up tomorrow. And we can—you don’t have to do anything, we can just, like, chill in the basement. I was, uh, talking to Will, and he thinks he knows what Eddie’s plot twist is, and I think he’s got it, honestly, I—”

“Tell Nancy thanks,” Dustin says, “but I… I don’t think I, um—”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Mike says. “No problem.”

The walkie falls silent, and Dustin gets the feeling that a few other conversations are happening on another channel. Then there’s a click, some static, and a voice again.

“Hi,” Lucas says. “Didn’t wanna wake you up if you were sleeping, so I, uh, used the spare key under the flower pot to drop off some stuff. Not—not homework, don’t worry.” A tiny chuckle. “I’m not a sadist.”

There’s some space left there, deliberately so. Dustin knows he’d normally make a joke. He can’t.

“Just some assignment marks came back,” Lucas says. “Hey, you got an A on that paper, the one about—”

“Thanks,” Dustin says.

He sounds blunt. He hates it.

“You don’t need to thank me, Dustin,” Lucas says softly. “But you’re welcome. Hope… hope you feel better.”

Dustin swallows.

More quiet. Another click.

“Hey,” Max says, as if nothing’s happened. “I’m behind on English, so I’m just gonna read out loud, I need to know there’s an audience or it’s not gonna stick. No complaints, my education’s on the line, Dusty-Bun.”

Max isn’t behind; Dustin knows this. He doesn’t complain.

She reads The Outsiders for at least twenty minutes. Things get hazy after that, because Tews comes in and settles on Dustin’s chest, purring, and Max’s voice fades into background noise.

Perhaps the phone rings again, but it sounds so far away, he could’ve dreamt it.

He wakes up at the sound of his mom opening the front door, the soft jangle of her house keys. He vaguely hears her play the answering machine, and he’d recognise the rise and fall of that voice anywhere.

Eddie has this rambling way of leaving a message, like he’s really having a conversation with someone rather than just talking to a machine. Dustin can’t make out the words from here. Wishes he could.

His mom enters with a fresh water glass and soup on a tray.

“Eddie called,” she says, with that warm tone of voice she’s used ever since she truly met him—when he watched her with wide eyes from a hospital bed and choked out, “I-I’m not—it’s just a stupid board game, I swear.”

“Hmm?”

She smiles at him. “He was just calling to say hi.”

Dustin smiles back weakly—knows that Eddie would’ve taken at least five minutes to even get round to that point.

-

This time, the terror comes when he’s wide awake, when it’s three o’clock in the morning and his heart pounds for no reason at all, breath catching like he’s been dumped into a cold, cold lake.

Dustin’s felt frozen before, but when Eddie…

It wasn’t like Max in the graveyard, where Steve shouting for him to call Nancy and Robin helped him snap out of it, gave him something to do.

He was alone.

He was alone, and he didn’t know how long it had been since Eddie had stopped breathing. He tried to count, and the numbers turned to static in his head.

Stop the bleeding. Help him breathe. Move. Fucking move, you’re killing him, you’re—

A light on in the hallway.

“Dusty? Oh, baby, breathe.”

Dustin tries. Chokes on it.

And his mom is leading him to her room like he’s five years old.

“There, sweetie, that’s it. Shh, breathe, breathe.”

Dustin half-collapses into her bed, and her bedspread is thick, but he’s so, so cold, and he can’t catch his breath—

“Shh, Dustin, shh, you’re okay, baby. Oh, honey, it’s… it’s the earthquake, isn’t it?”

His mom is holding his hand, guiding his breathing. In. Out.

“There. There you are, well done, baby. I’m going to call Steve, okay?”

Dustin tightens his grip on her hand. Gasps out an urgent, “No.”

It could be a bad night, could be a night that Steve needs all the rest he can get—

“Oh, Dusty, shh. Okay, honey, I won’t, won’t. Not right now.” She hugs him. “You know you can tell me anything? Always.”

Dustin closes his eyes.

I can’t.

-

He pretends to sleep. Feels his mom leave the bed. Hears her on the phone—can’t make out the conversation.

His heart’s beating rapidly again. Breathing short and sharp.

He slips into his room. Opens the window. Crawls out.

Shock of cold air. Rain on his skin. In his eyes. Blinks it away. He’s on his bike with no memory of deciding to do so. Lungs burning. Pedalling faster, faster—

He hits something, something stupidly small, a pathetic rock, but he goes down, like a kid freshly off training wheels.

Dustin wonders if this is how Eddie felt. If even while on the bike, he could still sense how close to death he was.

And it’s stupid, it’s so stupid, it’s not remotely the same, but as Dustin lies there in the rain, his palms and knees stinging, he kind of feels like he’s dying, too.

A car horn sounding, over and over. Like a desperate shout.

Dustin can’t breathe.

Clunk. A door opening. Footsteps. Running on gravel.

I didn’t run away this time, right?

“Hey! Hey, hey, hey. Dustin, look at me.”

Steve. Steve’s hand on his shoulder.

Dustin shudders, exhales. “I-I’m okay, I’m okay.”

“Jesus. Woah, woah, take your time.”

Steve lifts him up so carefully, avoiding Dustin’s hands from digging further into the dirt.

Dustin blinks, sees Steve’s frown, the way his eyes are darting all over him until they land on his knees.

Oh. He’s bleeding.

“Come on,” Steve says. “Here. Lean on me. I’ll drive you the rest of the way.”

And it’s only as Dustin hobbles over to Steve’s car that he realises what he’s done.

He’s biked almost all the way to Forest Hills.

[mroddmod]

'86, baby!

[mollymurakami]

were we just kids, just starting out

[random-jot]

If Stranger Things was british

[stevesbipanic]

Robin and Dustin definitely fight over who gets shotgun when Steve picks them both up from school.

[korrasami-did-the-thing]

This better be the first scene of Stranger Things Season 5