#i feel like Robin would slip in any and all references into regular conversation

[helpimstuckposting]

Part one | part two | part three

—

Steve glanced at the door to the bar once again, as he and Robin watched their coworkers set up the karaoke equipment. They never worked on Thursdays, so they had the whole night to goof off and have fun. Or, they usually had fun when Steve wasn’t constantly looking at the door every four seconds.

“It’s literally 7PM, Dorkus, you haven’t been stood up yet,” Robin said, complete exasperation dancing in her eyes as they rolled to the ceiling and back to Steve’s sad face.

“What do you mean ‘stood up’? I’m not being stood up, it’s not a date, I was just advertising the bar’s events!” Steve had been trying to convince her (and himself) all day that it wasn’t a big deal, that Steve didn’t even expect Eddie to show up, that he totally wasn’t completely freaking out about the prospect of being in the same room again with The Eddie Munson of Corroded Coffin. Besides, even if he did genuinely want to come, the band was probably setting everything up for their show tomorrow or rehearsing or something. They had much better things to do than go to a random bar for karaoke on a Thursday night.

Steve was fine, obviously.

“Obviously,” Robin muttered, their one braincell sharing their thoughts as always. “Whatever, I’m getting corn chips,” she said, standing up to abandon Steve for the convenience store across the street. Karaoke didn’t even start until 9pm, so Steve wasn’t sure why he was freaking out so much. Sure, Eddie Munson was famous. Sure, he was flirting a bit last night. And sure, he was the most beautiful man Steve had ever seen in person, but that was all. No big deal.

If Eddie didn’t show, Robin and Steve would still dominate karaoke night, the on-shift bartenders would still roll eyes at their antics, someone would go too hard and make a mess of the bathroom, and Robin and Steve would duck out before anyone could ask if they’d help with the clean-up. Just like every Thursday. Just like normal.

If Eddie did show… well. Steve could panic about that later, if it even happened at all.

Robin strolled back into the bar a few minutes later, some off-brand Fritos in her hands, along with a snack for Steve (like always). They helped set up the mics and speakers (like always), and connect the TVs to a laptop at the back (like always), and put their names at the top of the list for when the night finally starts (like always).

Steve took a few deep breaths, willing the tension in his chest to finally unwind the rest of the way. The routine helped, convinced him that everything was as it always was, and he had no reason to panic. He and Robin took the stage, doing one round of songs to test the mics and equipment before they would hand it off to their coworkers to man the list of participants. The cool metal of the mic stand under his fingertips and the echo of Robin’s voice next to him snapped the last string constricting his lungs, and he smiled into the rest of the lyrics.

His fingers itched to play his guitar, to take a step back and let the notes wash over him, let the muscle memory take control and just check out for a little. He loved that Robin was main vocals, that she took the stage and just let go of all her inhibitions and he wasn’t expected to be king of the stage. However, on Thursday nights, they were a vocal pair, trading off and harmonizing and dancing around, letting the laughter and cheers of the crowd dictate their energy. He never expected to love performing this much, felt like his whole life had been a performance and he never wanted to do that again, but this was performance on his terms, doing what he loved, with the person he loved most in the world.

Until of course Eddie Munson walked through the doors and Steve completely stuttered over the next line, catching Robin’s smirk out of the corner of his eye. She mouthed ‘Told you so’ during a lyric break, and Steve shook his head to try and dislodge the fog, taking the few beats of rest he had to will the lyrics back onto his tongue.

Miraculously, he finished the song without further issue, and almost tripped himself off stage when he heard Munson scream encouragement at the back of the crowd. He had a rockstar cheering for him. A literal rockstar.

“You’re drooling,” Robin whispered to him as she passed, voice smug in a way that would make him violent if it wasn’t coming from her. She turned, walking backwards through the tables to keep eye contact with Steve. “He’s just a customer and you’re drooling.”

“I am not drooling, Buckley, I know where you sleep.”

“Oh like that’s a threat. We live together, Dingus.” She rolled her eyes and slipped up to the bar, knocking on the wood and throwing up two fingers toward the bartender on duty. She nodded toward them and started making their orders without any further information needed.

“I feel like a king when I do that,” Robin laughed, throwing an arm around Steves shoulders and squeezing tightly.

“We live together, so the threat is real, Robs. I could shave your head any time I wanted.” Steve brought his arm up around Robin’s waist, and the pair leaned against the bar to wait for their drinks.

“Not working tonight?” A voice asked behind them. Steve’s whole body tensed, Robin squeezing his shoulder tighter whether in encouragement or laughter, Steve wasn’t quite sure.

“Nah, karaoke nights are for the boys!” Robin replied, her body half turned toward the voice.

“Killer set, as always.” Their drinks were set down in front of them, and Eddie turned to order his own. He shifted back to Robin, leaning half against the bar next to them, and Steve swallowed his nerves to speak, pulling out his bitchy high school shield from the depths of his soul.

“As always? You heard us twice.”

Eddie smirked and flopped his head to the side, getting a better look at Steve around Robin’s shoulder.

“You telling me these past two nights were a fluke, big boy?”

Robin choked on her drink, which was the only thing that saved Steve from dying right on the spot. “I’m out,” she said, wiping her chin before patting Steve on the shoulder, “release your inhibitions, big boy.” Steve could hear her cackling into the crowd as Eddie slid in next to him.

“You make it look fun up there,” Eddie said, nodding toward the stage. The bartender set three drinks in front of him and he handed her his card, gesturing toward the two men he came with to come grab them. Steve didn’t really know his band mates’ names, Dustin only really talked about Eddie, but he recognized them from the posters and music videos.

“Right, like you don’t have fun on stage,” Steve scoffed, a switch in his brain flipping when he saw the absolute sparkle in Eddie’s eyes. It was too late to take the statement back, and judging from the look the rockstar next to him had, he wasn’t going to just drop it.

“So you do know who I am, princess. Thought for a second there you didn’t recognize me.” One of his band mates scoffed as he reached between them to grab two of the drinks. Eddie elbowed him hard and quickly shoved him out of the way, putting on his dimpled little smile again once the space was clear. He flicked a few nervous side eyes in the direction of the man who was now walking away, and Steve followed his eyes to see Robin laughing at the table with the third member of Corroded Coffin.

Something about Eddie’s fumble with his friend made the nerves drain from Steve completely. The power imbalance had shifted in his eyes, it felt like any other time he flirted with someone at the bar. He liked knowing Eddie wasn’t some infallible charmer. The nervous giggle was cute, too.

It had Steve leaning back against the bar, tension in his shoulders diminished like he was right back to chatting up a girl in the school hallway, letterman jacket perched on his shoulders. For how much he hated who he was back then, it was easy to slip into that character sometimes. It felt like a protective wall that hid him from his own anxieties.

“A kid I used to babysit was obsessed with you. Still is, actually. I’m kind of dying to see his reaction when I tell him I’ve met you,” Steve chuckled, seeing that firefly twinkle back in Eddie’s eyes. Maybe putting on the rockstar persona did the same for Eddie’s anxieties as Steve’s personas did. Maybe they weren’t so different.

“A kid? I’m a bit concerned, we’re not exactly kid-friendly.”

“Nah, Dustin’s in college now. I’ll never stop calling him a kid, though, he could be forty for all I care.”

Eddie laughed, those dimples just blinding. He gestured to a high top table for two and walked Steve over to it.

“What about your friends?” Steve asked.

“Oh they can drown in their own laughter, I don’t need to hear it just yet.” Steve looked back over to their table, Robin was now making faces directly at him while the two other members of Corroded Coffin laughed with her. He was so going to shave her head.

“Yeah I get what you mean.”

Eddie chuckled and took a sip from his drink, “So, your friend have tickets to the show this weekend?” he asked, thankfully bringing the subject back to Dustin and away from the sure fire humiliation that Robin was gearing his way.

“Oh, no. He couldn’t afford it, he’s been whining about it all month,” Steve said, vividly remembering just last weekend when Dustin yelled about the unfairness of society into his pillow for the twelfth time. If he could have paid for the ticket himself, he would have, but he’d told his parents countless times that he wanted to pave his own way and asking them for concert ticket money was absolutely out of the question.

Eddie hummed into his drink, raising his eyebrows. “I think I can do something about that.”

—

I’m a huge fan of run on sentences if you couldn’t tell. I didn’t expect this part to get so long so I’ve stopped it here for now out of fear lol I’m having a lot of fun with this though so I’m glad people are enjoying it!!

Tag list:

@weirdandabsurd42 @anne-bennett-cosplayer @estrellami-1 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @snapshotmaestro @youraveragemushroom @stxrcrossed186 @remuslupinisthevoiceofgod

[aestheticitii]

concept: kid lucina with grima, but a grima who IS robin—no possessions involved, the closest it gets is to an evil alterego that manifests out of robin's desire to be good and not what her mother fears will be her future

like sample first conversation:

Lucina: "Mommy, mommy! There you are."

Grima, visibly shaken by her appearance and having flashbacks: "You're mistaken, child. I am not your mother. I am the fell dragon who bears her likeness."

Lucina: "Likeness? Oh, like Morgan and Marc! You're her sister! I get it now."

Grima: "That's not it. I am your mother—"

Lucina: "So I was right! I knew it—of course, I know what you look like, Mommy. But why am I not a dragon if you are?"

(she is, but i headcanon the bloodlines did a number on her ability to transform)

Grima: "...Ask your father."

Lucina: "Daddy said to ask you."

Grima: *incoherent curses* "Really, Chrom?"

basically, saying no to a kid lucina is extremely hard and she fulfills a similar role to regular m!morgan. but since lucina isn't quite aware of what's going on, she drags grima everywhere—she just thinks mommy and daddy are having a big fight, like how one of her friend's parents did

it comes to the point where grima no longer throws venom at older lucina nor does she engage with her, because the memories of when they were happier far overpower what she vaguely remembers of their past feud

it freaks lucina out deeply

(she also ends up talking to chrom about it, because it feels so wrong for this to be happening, because this monster ruined her world and took away everything she loved

but now there's visible confirmation that her robin-ness is taking the wheel and the kids aren't nearly as unified on that front as the shepherds.)

why, you might wondering, is that the case? i'm glad you asked because i will tell you very happily

so feh posits the idea that grima is equal parts man hater and equal parts chrom lover.

her lvl40 confession has her dare the summoner to find someone who would accept her, warts and all, and in a few of her lines, she references the idea that she wants to be accepted

then comes the halloween tt+ with s!chrom and h!grima. grima is clearly haunted by her successful murder attempt of her husband, while chrom, whose first appearance has him beg robin to escape and to keep herself safe, is interested in being her friend, claiming that she's robin, so long as a part of her lingers

here is where it slips into headcanon territory, BUT i think that it makes sense for bad future timeline!robin to be more grumpy and angry than her canon timeline counterpart. our robin has no memories of any traumatic events, save maybe physical ones that bleed into her actions.

she's a blank slate and she's molded entirely by her gratefulness to chrom and to the shepherds, rather than any separate life experiences.

but bad future timeline robin likely grew up in hiding, being fearful of the constant threat of turning into grima, and likely resented the grimleal for ruining her chance at an idyllic childhood. she might've been more cynical, balancing out to be more neutral after emmeryn's death

anyway, the point is, robin's lack of memories and lack of lack of a chrom compels her to reject grima. but bad future timeline's doesn't have those things.

older lucina has a lot of baggage associated with her, because she tries to kill grima, while chrom is associated most strongly with his death.

and for a grima who is robin, just all the worst amplified (assuming they're the same entity), nothing is going to be more important than the happy times she had

aka shepherds and chrom and when lucina was younger

she might not warm up to her baby right away, but it will happen.

[robinskey]

Could you maybe write something for Steve where the reader and him date and they always get made fun of by the gang and by Robin but they all love her, and one day Steve and her fight and they all take her side. Thank you so much, and I understand if you can't write it. Thank you❤

Taking Sides

A/N: Thank you for requesting, anon! This took me approximately forever and a day, but I loved every minute of writing it. :) I got a little carried away with the story (as I usually do), so there’s a lot more under the cut. 

Warnings: swearing, angst

When you started dating Steve Harrington, you didn’t expect to gain a bunch of kids, too.

Of course, Steve wasn’t their biological father. The oldest of his friends was seventeen and the rest fourteen. However, they all acted more like nine-year-olds. They had the maturity of fifth-graders at best.

Whenever you were around them, there was constant, merciless, inevitable teasing. Usually, it was over the little things-when you and Steve wore matching sweaters at Christmas time, the way Steve did anything you asked him to without question, or how the two of you always laughed at each other’s terrible jokes. You quickly learned to avoid PDA unless you wanted to deal with incessant mocking. For example, you once accidentally referred to Steve as your “baby boy” in front of Dustin. The kid laughed until he ran out of oxygen in his lungs. Then, he promised that he would exclusively refer to Steve as “baby boy” from now on.

Originally, their jokes and snide remarks started out as a way to test you. They had to make sure you were good enough for their beloved Steve, after all. Before long, though, the gang accepted you as one of their own. Nonetheless, the teasing didn’t stop after they decided they liked you. If anything, it only worsened.

An endless string of dirty jokes ensued every time you and Steve arrived somewhere late because you’d “just lost track of time”-even if you actually had simply forgotten to keep an eye on the clock. Robin often wondered aloud how someone as smart as you could end up with a person whose two brain cells bounced around his skull like ping-pong balls. And on one occasion, you even caught El whispering something to Max about whether or not you and Steve ever had “happy screams” together.

The harassment was relentless. Nonetheless, if it meant spending just a little longer with your favorite person in the world, you could deal with it. Besides, by now, you were in too deep to simply walk out. Steve’s friends had begun to care for you almost as much as they loved him. In some cases, it even seemed like they liked you just a little bit more.

One such situation occurred in the winter of 1985.

It started off as a normal night. You, Robin, Steve, and the party were hanging out in the Wheelers’ basement. After weeks of begging, Will had finally wrangled the gang into a D&D campaign. Max and El, who’d never played, both scrunched up their faces in confusion as Will emphatically explained-or rather, tried to explain-to them the rules.

The kids were crammed around a table with dice, paper, and pens in the middle. When Mike suggested that El sit on his lap “to conserve space,” no one questioned it. After all, Mike was the ringleader of the group, and no one would dare to mess his superhuman girlfriend.

Meanwhile, you couldn’t even sit next to your boyfriend on the sofa-not in the Wheeler house, at least. Once, shortly after you and Steve started dating, the kids had left you and Steve alone in the basement for five minutes while they grabbed snacks. Because you were still in the honeymoon stage of the relationship, it was simply impossible to keep your hands off each other. A little peck on the lips quickly morphed into a full-on makeout session. The two of you got so carried away that you forgot the kids were coming back. Upon returning, they discovered their favorite babysitter shoving his tongue down his girlfriend’s throat. Dustin awkwardly cleared his throat, and Steve gave such a start that he tumbled off the sofa and onto the floor.

After that scarring incident, Mike decreed that, under his roof, you and Steve needed to maintain three inches of distance between each other at all times. It was a completely original rule that he definitely hadn’t ripped off from somewhere, and Robin found it hilarious. She always made sure to act as a barrier separating the two of you “to prevent any funny business.”

Tonight was no different. Robin had squeezed into the narrow space between you and Steve while the three of you chatted on the couch. Now, she was ranting about a particularly annoying regular at Hawkins Family Video.

“…and he wastes so much of my time. Like, the store can be swamped, and he’ll still come up to the desk, looking for recommendations. He constantly asks if we have any recent releases, even though I’ve told him on multiple occasions that new shipments only arrive once a month.”

“Jeez. He must really like movies,” Steve said. When you scoffed, he frowned at you. “What? You don’t think he likes movies?”

“He might. But I’m pretty sure he just likes Robin,” you said. The girl in question rolled her eyes toward the heavens. You didn’t appreciate the attitude. “Oh, come on. He’s clearly just trying to get your attention. Nobody actually likes movies that much.”

“Hey!” Steve pouted. “I like movies!”

Robin glanced at Steve out of the corner of her eye. “Really, dingus? Because when we interviewed for this stupid job, you couldn’t even name one.”

“Well, yeah, but that was only because I was nervous,” Steve said. “I clammed up.”

“Sure it was.” Robin leaned her head back against the couch and turned her face toward you. “You really think he’s trying to flirt with me?”

“Yes, I do. Not that it matters, though. I’m pretty sure sweaty middle-aged guys who wear nothing but stained tank tops is pretty much the opposite of your ‘type.’”

Robin chuckled. “Yeah, you’re right. I think my type is ‘straight girls who are way out of my league.’”

“Hey, that’s my type, too!”

You and Robin both looked over at Steve. A smug smirk tugged at his pink lips; he was clearly proud of the clever contribution he’d just made to the conversation. It was cheesy, sure, but you still appreciated his slightly-clumsy attempt at complimenting you. However, Robin was quick to knock him down a peg.

“First of all, the whole ‘out-of-your-league’ thing is obvious, because you’re…in a league of your own, dingus.” Robin drew a tiny dot in the air with her pointer finger-“This is you”-and another, larger circle off to the side-“and this is everyone else. Besides” -Robin clapped her hands together once- “you’re clearly not just into straight girls. You had a crush on me, remember?”

“At the time, I didn’t know…“ Steve’s voice trailed off as blush crept onto his features.

“No, you didn’t. But that doesn’t mean I was any less of a lesbian when you confessed your love for me,” Robin said, eliciting a laugh from you and a glare from Steve.

“You’re the exception, not the rule,” he said defensively. “And I didn’t confess my love for you. The only girls I’ve ever said the ‘L-word’ to are Y/N and-”

“Nancy!” Robin exclaimed.

The name hit you like a slap in the face. Of course Steve had loved Nancy-you knew that-but Robin didn’t have run around yelling about it. You were about to mention that to Robin when you noticed someone standing at the foot of the stairs to the basement.

Someone needed to put a bell on Nancy Wheeler. She moved gracefully as a snowflake floating to the earth; her footfalls pattered against the ground like sprinkling rain. You sometimes wondered if weighed anything at all, or if helium ran through her blood instead of oxygen, always lifting her toward the heavens. She even dressed like an ethereal being, always wearing pastels, frills, lace, or a combination of all three.

Surprisingly, though, none of those elements had made their way into Nancy’s outfit that night. She wore a form-fitting red dress and matching lipstick. Her hair fell to her shoulders in loose curls, and the low neckline of her dress exposed her collarbones. She wore a touch more makeup than usual; in addition to the lipstick, she had applied a thin layer of eyeliner, blush on her already-rosy cheeks, and dark mascara to elongate her lashes. In spite of the skinny, unstable heels on her feet, Nancy’s smooth gait never faltered as she sauntered toward the sofa.

“Hey, Robin,” she said, then gave you and your boyfriend a nod of acknowledgment. “Steve. Y/N.”

Following Nancy’s lukewarm greeting, the four of you slipped into an uncomfortable quietness. You didn’t have anything personally against Nancy, but you preferred to keep her at a distance. Even though she and Steve had been broken up for more than two years, you knew how strongly he’d felt about her. Those feelings had definitely faded. However, you occasionally questioned whether or not the burning torch he carried for his first serious girlfriend had ever completely burned out.

The reminder from earlier that, once upon a time, Steve had confessed his love for Nancy Wheeler certainly didn’t help the situation. You glanced over at your boyfriend and immediately wished you hadn’t. He gazed at Nancy with wide, somewhat-wishful eyes.

“So,” Robin said, finally breaking the silence, “I assume this isn’t a lounge-around-the-house look.” She gestured to the red dress.

“No, it’s not,” Nancy said with a terse, nervous laugh. “Holly’s staying with a friend tonight, so my mom and dad offered to take Jonathan and me out for our anniversary. Celebrating our one-year with my parents isn’t exactly ideal, but they suggested this really fancy restaurant that we definitely wouldn’t have been able to afford otherwise. I tried to dress nice enough that I’ll be able to blend in-”

“You’re trying to blend in? In that?” Steve blurted.

Nancy’s face fell. “What? You think I’m still underdressed?”

“No, no, no, it’s not that. That’s not what I meant,” Steve stammered. “Red’s a good color on you, actually. You look great.”

The awkward silence returned with a vengeance. Heavy tension hung in the air like thick smog, soundlessly choking you. It even penetrated the little bubble the Dungeons-and-Dragons-playing-preteens had formed around themselves and settled over their conversation, too. No one dared to speak a word.

“We’re ready to go, sweetheart!” Mrs. Wheeler called.

Nancy mumbled something of a goodbye before turning on her heel and sprinting up the stairs. You waited for the sound of chattering voices growing muffled and a door slamming shut. Then, you looked over at Steve.

If he liked red so much, he must have loved the color of your skin.

“What the hell was that, Harrington?” you demanded. Robin, who was still parked in between the two of you, pressed into the back of the sofa, trying to create as much distance as possible.

“What do you mean?” Steve asked, big stupid doe eyes glimmering with perplexity. “I just gave her a compliment.”

“You’re not serious.” When he shrugged, your eyebrows flew into your hairline, and your voice rose an octave. “Steve, you were practically drooling over her.”

“She has a boyfriend, Y/N.”

“Yeah, and you have a girlfriend. But that didn’t stop you from flirting with your ex.”

An echo of “ooh”s sounded from the card table with the kids. When you raised your gaze, it met six pairs of eyes. A couple of them sheepishly cast their gaze downward, but the rest continued to stare unapologetically.

“I need some air.” You hopped up off the couch, grabbed your jacket, and stomped up the stairs. As soon as you were out of sight, everyone’s gaze switched back to the other half of the unhappy couple.

Steve made no move to follow after you. Instead, he stayed put on the sofa, arms crossed over his chest and lips pursed into a pout. If it hadn’t been for his excessively long limbs and the hint of stubble on his chin, one might have mistaken the almost-twenty-year-old for a toddler in time-out.

Once again, Robin was the first one to speak. “I can’t believe-”

“I can’t believe her, either,” Steve interjected. “God, overreact much?”

Robin puffed up her cheeks with air, then blew it out. “Actually, Steve, it’s you I can’t believe. That was a dick move.”

Steve leapt to his feet. His hands landed on his hips as he glowered down at Robin and asked, “Whose side are you on, anyway?”

Robin stood up, too. Even though Steve’s legs were a couple inches longer, it seemed like Robin towered over him as she said, “I’m on the side of reason.”

“And I’m not?”

“Not in this situation,” she said. “You’re in the wrong here, bud.”

Max’s whoop of agreement drew Steve’s attention to the kids. El nodded fervently. Steve, however, waved his hand dismissively and wrote them off with, “Of course you think that. You’re girls.” He turned toward the boys with a desperate glimmer in his eye. “I mean, you guys agree that she’s blowing this out of proportion, right?”

Much to Steve’s chagrin, they all shook their heads. With the exception of Will, all of the boys had something to say. Unfortunately, none of it was what Steve wanted to hear. Mike claimed that it definitely seemed like Steve was hitting on his sister, and Dustin suggested he stay away from Jonathan for a few days, unless he wanted to get his ass kicked again. Lucas warned that Steve was in “really deep shit.”

“Like, take the deepest shit you’ve ever been in,” he was saying, gesturing with his hands as he spoke. “Then, multiply that by a hundred, maybe even a thousand-”

“Okay, okay, I get it. I messed up.” Steve plopped back down on the couch. He ran his fingers through his hair and wondered aloud about what you were thinking right now.

“She’s probably debating whether or not to key your car,” Max piped up. El stifled a giggle.

“God, I hope not. I drove one of my dad’s cars over here, and if that thing comes home with even a scratch on it, I’m dead meat.”

(Fortunately, you hadn’t built up a sufficient store of rage to fuel a desire to do permanent damage to Steve’s vehicle. You were, however, angry enough to trace profanity into the dust on the car. While your act of vengeance would go unnoticed for several days, Mr. Harrington would eventually notice the word “shitface” written in looping cursive on each of the dirty windows and ask his son what kind of dumbass prank he thought he was pulling.)

“Okay, so, what do I do?”

“Go talk to her, dingus,” Robin said, nudging his foot with her own. 

“What do I say?”

“Tell her you know you messed up,” Lucas said.

“And that you’re sorry,” El added.

“And that while Nancy’s hot, Y/N is way hotter,” Dustin suggested, eliciting a “Dude, that’s my sister!” and “Hey, that’s my girlfriend you’re talking about!” from Mike and Steve respectively. The three immediately began bickering.

“Shut up!” Max interrupted. “While you’re here arguing about which hotness-which is incredibly objectifying, by the way-Y/N is out there in the cold, waiting for her asshole of a boyfriend.”

After Max’s harsh words, Steve looked to Robin for reassurance. However, his friend gazed back without an ounce of sympathy. “I hate to agree with your children, but Max is right. You should go before she decides you’re not coming and starts to walk home or something.”

Steve nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. Then, he rose to his feet and retraced the path you’d taken minutes before-up the stairs, through the house, and into the crisp December air. The obnoxiously creaky door announced Steve’s arrival. However, the figure sitting on the porch gave no indication of recognition. 

You sat on the Wheelers’ front step, curled into yourself. You blew air into your bare hands in a vain attempt to warm them. Little clouds of your breath floated toward the star-speckled sky. Your thin jacket wasn’t nearly heavy enough to withstand the bitter cold of the Indiana winter; as a gust of wind blew across the porch, a shudder ran down your spine.

Automatically, Steve shrugged out of his coat. When he draped it over your shoulders, you continued staring straight ahead. As Steve sat on the ground beside you, it took every ounce of self-restraint to keep from wrapping his arm around you, too. The two of you simply existed there together silently for a moment while Steve gathered his thoughts.

“Look, Y/N. I’m really sorry for what I said in there-how I acted.”

Aside from a sniffle, you made no other noise, so Steve continued.

“I made a dumb comment, and then I made the situation a hell of a lot worse by-by everything I did, honestly,” he said. “I was a real dick.”

“Yeah, you were,” you said, finally breaking your unofficial vow of silence. 

“I know.” Steve heaved a hefty sigh. For the next few moments, only the whistling wind dared to make a sound.

Then, you spoke a single word: “Steve.” He’d heard his name hundreds, maybe even thousands, of times. Yet, he’d never heard it like that. No one had ever woven such deep sorrow into his five-letter name.

And when you turned your head, your bloodshot eyes conveyed the exact same sentiment with a million times the intensity.

“You still love Nancy, don’t you?” Though a “no” automatically rolled off his tongue, your somber expression never faltered. The strain was evident in your voice as you told him, “Don’t lie to me.”

Suddenly, the lump in his throat was back with a vengeance. He choked out, “Why would you say that?”

You scoffed, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

“I saw the way you looked at her, Steve,” you said, though it came out as more of a hiss.

Steve’s single brain cell once again bounced around in his mostly-hollow skull. This time, it desperately tried to connect the dots. What were you talking about? Honestly, as soon as Nancy had come down the stairs in that red dress, he’d blacked out a little. Steve figured he had to be dreaming; he couldn’t believe Nancy Wheeler, who Tommy H and Carol had long referred to as “the school prude”, wasn’t covered from head to toe. 

What you’d mistaken for desire was genuinely just surprise. Steve communicated this to you to this best of his ability, and while your boyfriend certainly wasn’t the most eloquent speaker, you got the point. “Besides,” he said, “you’re way hotter than Nancy Wheeler.”

You gave a small “tsk” vaguely reminiscent of a laugh. “Did Dustin tell you to say that or something?”

“…maybe,” he admitted. When you gave him a playful shove, he knew all was forgiven.

“You know, someday, you’re going to run into trouble, getting dating advice from literal children,” you said. 

“It works in your favor, though. They always take your side.” 

Steve reached for your hand. You watched as your fingers intertwined and winced as his icy palm met yours. It felt more like holding hands with a popsicle than a warm-blooded boy.

“Come on,” you said, pulling him to his feet and starting the three-foot-trek to the front door. “Let’s go inside before you get hypothermia.”

“Wait.” A gentle tug of your hand brought you spinning back into Steve’s arms. “While I can still touch you without Mike Wheeler chiding us for PDA…” 

Steve pressed his blue-hued lips to yours. Somehow, his mouth was still warm-the only part of him, aside from his heart, that the elements could never truly touch, try as they may. Steve tasted of chocolate and sickly-sweet marshmallows from the hot cocoa Mrs. Wheeler had made earlier. This wasn’t the first time you’d kissed him. Yet, Steve still left you lightheaded after he pulled away, as though he’d sucked all of the oxygen right out of your lungs.

“I love you, you know that?” he murmured, leaning his forehead against yours. “I really, really love you.”

“I love you, too, dork.” You kissed his cheek before untangled yourself from him and slipping your palm back into his. “Now, come on. I need to thank your friends.”

“Thank them?” Steve asked, tilting his head slightly like a confused puppy. 

“Yeah,” you said with a wink. “I’ve got to thank them for taking my side.”

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