#i love ronance but Vickie and Robin are meant for each other istg

[finntheehumaneater]

⭐️Radio Star⭐️ part 1

(Part two)

“I just don’t understand why I’m so nervous!” Robin was rambling, one of her hands flitting around her space in the passenger seat, the other gripping onto Steve’s arm as he tried to focus on driving through the swimming colors and shapes. It hurt, but he wasn’t going to complain. “I’ve been on dates with her before, it’s not like this is any different!” 

Steve squinted at the road slightly, trying to stay on the right side of the yellow lines. His vision was more blurry than normal, but it was fine. If he focused, they wouldn’t crash, and he would fine. He glanced over at her and tired to raise an eyebrow—and failed—which got a choked out laugh out of her. His eyes went back to the road. “I mean…it is your third date…”

He glanced over at Robin again as she squeezed his arm tighter, and through the cloudy-haze in front of him, he could still see the disappointment in her face. “Steve.”

“I’m just saying—,” He started, but she slapped him on the arm lightly and then grabbed onto it again.

“Ew, Steve, no no no. EW,” she said, moving her hands to press them against her face, looking like she wanted to claw her eyeballs out of their sockets, and she might have if Steve hadn’t reached over and gently moved them.

“I’m joking, Robs. You’ll be fine. Relax.” He was trying to sound cool and collected—calm, like he was supposed to be—but Robin could probably see the way that he was squinting, and the way that his voice was a bit strained as he tried to focus. She dropped her hand from his arm, but she had been holding on so hard that it still felt like it was there.

“But what if I start talking about…you know…that. And she gets weirded out and leaves?” Her voice was softer now, but still anxious.

“About—?”

“Don’t say it!” She cut in. “I don’t want to think about it.”

Steve sighed. He knew what she meant. He didn’t like thinking about it either, but still. It had to be talked about eventually, right? Come to think of it, they hadn’t really discussed it since they had gotten out. It was traumatic, and honestly? It felt kind of weird that they had stayed in contact afterwards—and that they had gotten this close, because he could still see that version of Robin sometimes when he looked at her. The one where she made herself smaller and her eyes got wide, and she stopped talking completely. She didn’t do that when she was anxious, she did it when she was scared. “I’ll help you then, alright? Make sure you don’t let slip about….you know.”

He deepened his voice at the end, trying to sound ominous, but voices were never his thing. Still, he heard Robin giggle slightly before she sighed, too. “Okay. Good. I just don’t want her to think that I’m weird for not being over this already. It happened two years ago, Steve.”

“I’m aware of how much time has passed, yes, but—some things are hard to get over. Especially what we’ve been through, okay? You’re not broken or anything for being mad at yourself over this. I am too. And it’s something we’re working on. Right?” He gave her a quick pointed look, and the car swerved slightly, so he looked back. Shit.

“I know, I know. But we’re also working on other things.” She muttered, poking him in the arm, which made him wince. He was going to have a bruise from all this.

“Sorry, Bobby, I have a reputation to uphold—“

“Does that reputation involve crashing the car and killing us?”

He went silent at that. She had a point…

He could practically hear Robin smiling, even though he wasn’t looking at her—because for now he had decided to keep his eye solely on the road—when she said, “We’ll talk more about this after my date. Agreed?”

“Yeah. Sure.”

They were supposed to meet up with Vickie at this little coffee shop near the record store that Robin’s friend Chrissy worked at. It was little, with a lot of plants everywhere that were dying slightly in the October breeze, and a chubby black cat curled up on one of the tables. So of course that’s the one where Robin chose to sit, even though she knew Steve was allergic. 

“Seriously?” Steve whined, giving her fake pout, because now he would be banished to some other table and have to sit alone. 

“Sorry, Steven, but he’s just a baby,” Robin stated simply, shrugging and smoothing her hand over the cat’s fur, as if that made up for all of this. The cat lifted its head up and mewed, pushing its face into Robin’s hand, who giggled and kept petting it.

Steve huffed and sat down at the table next to her, sitting at the far chair. He didn’t want to be coughing and all red while Robin was on a date, because that would be embarrassing. People already thought that he was weird enough for accompanying his best friend on her dates—purposefully putting himself in the role of the awkward-third-wheel—but in truth? Robin was nervous and flighty, and if it were up to her, she would just leave the second things got slightly awkward, even if it didn’t mean the date was over yet.

That’s why Vickie was perfect for her, because she also never stopped talking, just like Robin, who was now cooing and murmuring to the cat, its little face squished between her palms as she kissed all over it, just to cough and spit out cat hair. Yeah, Steve wasn’t going to let her touch him until she had washed her hands. Thoroughly, at that. 

She looked over at him and grinned her hand fidgeting in the air slightly. “Steve, look.”

“I’m looking, Robs. It’s a cat.”

She gasped and covered the cat’s ears with her hands, kissing him on the nose again. “He is not just a cat, Stefan, he is a baby.”

“You do realize that ‘Steve’ isn’t short for anything, right? It’s just Steve,” He muttered, rolling his eyes and shrinking down slightly on his chair. It was a nice looking chair—kind of a soft, light green, with an out-of-date looking floral print. Little pink flowers. He liked little pink flowers, they were cool.

Standing up, and ignoring Robin as she was still talking to the cat and not him—“Where’s Stevie going, hm? Is he leaving? Where’s he going, baby? He’s abandoning us, you poor thing…”—he went up to the counter to get himself a drink. It was going to be a long day for him, with effectively two Robin’s babbling around him all afternoon. 

There was no-one behind the counter, so he waited there for a moment, looking around. The only other person here was a guy sitting in the corner with his head down, a book out in front of him, occasionally glancing over at Robin and the cat with a small smile on his face. It was a wonder Steve hadn’t noticed him before, and honestly, he was kind of happy that he hadn’t, because now he was just standing there and staring like an idiot. His hair was long and brown, curly, but not natural curly—like he had gotten a perm or something—and he had tattoos on his arms. Maybe more that Steve couldn’t see—which, no, he was not going to think about that, fuck, his face is so red now—

After a few more seconds of gawking, the guy's head snapped up and his eyes widened. “Shit—,” he rushed out, scrambling up and over to Steve, who stepped out of his way as he scrambled over the counter and nearly tripped as he stood up fully, his hair falling into his eyes. He didn’t look like he worked there—wearing a Metallica t-shirt (Steve had no idea what that was. A band, by the looks of it) and ripped black jeans, with a shit ton of chains and rings all over him. He looked a bit out of breath, but just cleared his throat and leaned on his elbows on the counter, smiling. “What do you want?”

“Oh, uh…I…a coffe?” Steve stuttered out, still a bit shocked and lost for words as to what the fuck just happened. 

The guy tilted his head and his smile got a bit wider. “Okay. What kind of coffee?”

“I—no, I don’t like coffee. Do you have, like…Hot Chocolate or something?” Why had he asked for coffee? Robin had coffee every morning (except today because he wouldn’t let her. She didn’t need more sugar since she was probably going to drink some here, with Vickie) not him. Fuck.

“You don’t like coffee? Are you sure? I think it tastes fine,” The guy said, shrugging and tugging on one of his curls like he was trying to hide behind it. 

“Well, that’s good for you.” Steve said, giving him a small smile. The guy looked at him for a few more seconds, just enough time for Steve’s face to get even more red, before straightening up with a nervous laugh and going to make his drink. 

It took him a while, because he kept fumbling with the cup and dropping things, tripping over his feet, while quietly singing under his breath and drumming on the counter with his fingers. This guy was a mess. But it was kind of cute. Wait, no, it wasn’t. Why would Steve think that? That was weird. It wasn’t cute, he was cute. No, that’s even worse.

Eventually, the guy spun around, looking Steve over with a stupid—yet sort of endearing?—grin on his face. “Name?”

Steve just stood there. “Hm?”

“For the order. I need your name, sweetheart.” 

And if that didn’t just make Steve want to run out of there and back into his car. But, alas, he couldn’t leave Robin alone or she might try to steal the cat she was still messing with. “I’m like—the only person here?”

The guy shrugged, spinning around a bit, his hands messing with the hem of his shirt as he faced Steve once again. “Still. Need to professional.”

Steve was pretty sure nothing this guy had done had been professional, but whatever. “Steve? Steve Harrington.”

“Aw, cute name. Okay—“ He rushed off to get the drink, but instead of just handing it to Steve, he walked over to the pick-up counter and pretended to look around the room. “Order for Steve?”

Steve laughed slightly, but it was more of a confused laugh than a happy one. He walked over and went to take the drink, but the guy pulled it to his chest, squinting at him, trying to be serious—although there was a small smile at the corner of his mouth. “Are you Steve?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you sure?”

Steve froze, his expression faltering slightly as he cleared his throat. That poked a sore spot that he didn’t like to think about. “Yeah,” He said quietly, looking away for a moment and clearing his throat. “I’m sure.” He knew that the guy was just messing around, but he couldn’t help it.

The guy handed him the drink and looked Steve over, his smile dropping slightly. “Sorry about that. I know I can be a bit much sometimes, so if I said something to offend you just know that I totally do not think before I talk. Ever. And it was an accident. Sorry.”

“It’s okay!” Steve said quickly, his face flushing as he looked down to where the guy had written ‘Steve :)’ on the side of the cup, and had checked off all of the boxes just to check them off, even if the things didn’t apply to the Hot Chocolate. “I’m just kind of tired today, sorry.” 

He was lying, and the guy probably knew. But he didn’t say anything. Steve really wished people would stop doing that to him—knowing that there was a problem but not pushing to know what it was, because he just needed someone to force him to talk about everything that had happened, or he was going to melt into a pile of bloody goop. Then again, this poor guy probably didn’t want to hear some stranger rant about his unfortunate and traumatic life. He was a barista, not a therapist. And Steve refused to see a therapist. For personal reasons that Robin despised (even though she didn’t want to see one, either).

“I’m Eddie.” The guy—Eddie, that’s a nice name—offered, shrugging slightly and messing with the thick silver rings on his fingers. Steve tried not to stare at his hands so much. They looked nice. Fuck, Steve, normal thoughts, think normal thoughts—, he chided himself internally, shaking his head slightly, which made Eddie give him a confused look. 

“I like that name. Eddie, it’s, uh, it’s nice.” Eddie nodded and his smile came back in full force as he bounced slightly on his feet. “Thanks! You go enjoy your drink, I’ll be okay over here all by my lonesome.” 

“Cool.” Steve said quietly, and then punched himself inside for that. Which technically could have killed him, because the doctor said if got any more blunt-force trauma,  he was likely to not survive, but right at this moment, he really wanted to shrivel up and rot in the corner.

He walked back and sat down. Fuck. This really was going to be a long day.

——

Pinterest board!

this wasn’t supposed to be all of part one, but I need to post something now just so that I can’t back out later and get in my head about all of this.

If you want to be tagged, comment and let me know, and if you have any questions or comments, feel free to send me an ask or tag me in a post, because I like getting asks :) (and if you want to be removed from the taglist at any point in the future, just DM me and lmk)

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REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED, AND IF YOU SEE A SPELLING MISTAKE OR SOMETHING NO YOU DIDN’T. I DON’T HAVE A BETA READER FOR THIS I JUST WRITE AND POST. THANKS. BYE.

Taglist:

@an-atlas-or-other (because I wrote this since you said I should post it before.)

@strangersteddierthings (because I showed you a snippet of it for the WIP Wednesday thing. If you want to be taken off the taglist lmk, but I thought you might like to see the full bit)