#hi Robin! sorry I’ve never written you before but I still love you 💕

[adverbally]

Whenever This World Is Cruel to Me

Written for the @steddieangstyaugust prompt “Missing Scene” | wc: 1,609 | rated: T | cw: mildly graphic description of injuries | tags: set during 4x08, platonic Stobin, surprisingly calm and competent Eddie, it takes a village to take care of Steve | title from “You’re My Best Friend” by Queen

———

When they arrive at Weathertop, Steve is dangerously close to running out of steam. Robin can see it in the way he slumps back in the driver’s seat after putting the RV in park. Everyone else starts filing out of the vehicle, hauling weapons and supplies with them, but Steve doesn’t move.

Robin quietly hangs back until everyone else is outside, then she creeps forward to slip into the copilot seat. She sits sideways so she can see him better, with her knees tucked to her chest and her shoes staining the seat.

He looks worse up close, she thinks. Where he would normally look tanned and healthy, his face is shiny and scabbed and dirty. At least he finally got a shirt when they stopped at the War Zone so Robin doesn’t have to keep seeing the bloody fabric around his waist, reliving the fear that he wasn’t going to make it out with them. The feeling still hasn’t left her.

Steve’s eyes don’t open, but he must sense her. “Hey,” he croaks. His voice is still strained from being strangled by the demobat, though his head is leaned back so far that the added pressure on his throat probably isn’t helping.

“Hey,” she says back, leaning forward to rest her arms on top of her knees. “You look like shit.”

He coughs out a humorless laugh. “I feel like it.” When he opens his eyes and lolls his head sideways to look at her, his gaze is bleary. “How are you holding up?”

“I’m fine, I wasn’t the one who got road rash over half their body and got used as a chew toy by a bunch of demobats,” she gestures at him vaguely. “Have you even gotten cleaned up?”

“Not really. Splashed some water on my face at Max’s but probably shoulda used some soap.”

Alarm bells start screaming in Robin’s head. “What about your wounds, did you wash and rebandage those?”

His guilty face tells her everything she needs to hear.

“C’mon, get up, right now,” she tells him, clambering out of her seat and dragging him upright. “Oh my god, I can’t believe you didn’t– I should’ve checked when we were at Max’s, she probably had more stuff there–”

Steve stumbles along behind her down the center aisle. “Rob, I’m okay–”

“No, actually, you probably have some crazy Upside Down infection on top of the demobat rabies, so we can see what kills you first. Sit down.”

Obediently, he collapses on the seat across from the kitchenette. Robin digs through the bags that were left on board until she pulls out bandages and rubbing alcohol. Thankfully they also stocked up on gallons of water, not knowing how much water was in the RV’s freshwater tank or how to use it.

When she turns around, Steve is gingerly pulling off his jacket and shirt, already anticipating her next orders. Jesus, he’s still wearing the scrap of Nancy’s blouse across his body, and it looks like there’s more blood seeping through than there was earlier. He could really be in danger here.

“Don’t freak out,” he tells her as he unknots the makeshift bandage and pulls it away. She immediately understands why when she sees how the fabric pulls at the wounds where drying blood stuck it to his skin. The disturbance makes it start to ooze again.

“Steve, oh my god,” she breathes, hands over her mouth in horror even as she leans down for a closer look. Is that pus? Holy shit.

“Nope, don’t start that.” Steve’s head is tilted back again, staring determinedly at the ceiling so he doesn’t have to see his own injuries. “If you freak out, then I’m gonna freak out.”

Robin’s voice is shrill when she says, “I guess we’re both freaking out then! How am I supposed to not freak out over this?!” She links her fingers and rests her connected hands on top of her head like she’s trying to hold herself together, elbows sticking out as she does a panicked little spin. “I can’t fix you if you’re already septic!”

“Well, calling me names isn’t helping!” Steve shrieks back nonsensically.

They both startle when the door opens. Eddie’s head peeks in cautiously. “Hey, everything okay in here?”

Robin whirls to face him, hands still locked on her head. After a long moment of deciding whether to lie, she settles on, “Not really.”

Steve chimes in, “Been better,” still not looking away from the ceiling.

“Okay.” Eddie gently shuts the door behind him and comes to join them in the middle of the aisle. He keeps his voice low and soft, like he’s approaching a frightened animal. “That’s kind of what we figured, with all the yelling we could hear from outside.”

Robin drops her arms. “Just a little disagreement over whether I was allowed to freak out about this.” She points accusingly at Steve’s belly. “I think yes, obviously,” she declares, volume already rising again.

“Look, Buckley, I’m not sure you’re the one we want doing first aid right now. Nothing personal,” Eddie rushes to reassure her, “just, I think your weird mind link with Harrington is making it hard for you to be objective.”

Steve snorts.

“No, we don’t need any commentary from the patient, okay?” Eddie raises his eyebrows, daring Steve to argue. When he doesn’t, Eddie guides Robin to sit beside Steve with a hand on her shoulder. “Okay. You’re on moral support duty now.”

“Only if you stop yelling at me,” Steve warns with a sidelong glance.

Robin watches Eddie dampen a towel to begin wiping away the grime and blood, then looks back up at Steve. “Sorry I yelled. And freaked out,” she mutters, finding Steve’s hand with hers.

He squeezes back, then hisses when Eddie makes contact with his wound.

“Sorry,” Eddie says absently, not looking away from where he’s daubing determinedly at Steve’s skin.

They’re quiet for several minutes while Eddie works, Robin wincing whenever Steve’s grip gets too tight but never complaining. It’s when Eddie switches to the rubbing alcohol that they have a problem.

“Shit!” Steve swears with feeling, twisting his torso away from Eddie’s hands.

“You gotta stay still, man,” Eddie sighs from where he’s kneeling between Steve’s legs.

“It hurts!” he snaps.

Robin’s other hand rubs at Steve’s nearest shoulder. “We have to clean it, Steve.” Even to her own ear, it sounds melodramatic, like they might as well be amputating a limb and giving him a belt to bite down on.

“I’m gonna do this as quick as I can, but I have to be thorough.”

Robin marvels at Eddie’s bedside manner, the mix of efficiency and apology, but mostly she’s stunned by the soft expression on Eddie’s face as he looks up at Steve. Something about it goes beyond concern for an acquaintance, maybe the way his eyes are so big and wet and earnest.

Oh my god. Does Eddie have a crush on Steve?

It makes sense, the way he had ogled Steve’s shirtless chest and gave him his clothes and stood so close to him and don’tcha, big boy?…

She comes back to reality as Steve crushes her hand again. “Hey, you’re doing great,” she tells him, resting her head against his shoulder. “You’ll be done in no time.”

Steve doesn’t respond but leans his head against Robin’s. With multiple points of contact between them, she can feel how hard he’s trying to keep still, every muscle tense like he could break any minute. By the time Eddie finishes, Robin's eyes are welling up with sympathetic tears.

“There you go.” Eddie claps his hands on his thighs as he stands up. “Buckley, help me with the bandages?”

It goes fast as they pass the roll between them, wrapping around Steve’s torso like a garland on a Christmas tree. They build up several layers, hoping the cushion and added stability will help prevent further injury. Robin watches Eddie’s hands just barely grazing Steve’s skin with his rings, his throat bobbing every time his touch lingers.

“All done. You can get a sticker and a lollipop from the nurse on your way out,” Eddie announces cheerfully.

As he turns to head back outside, Steve stops him with a hand on his wrist. “Thank you,” he says with such gravity that it almost sounds like I love you.

Eddie’s gaze jumps from Steve to Robin and then back to Steve…’s lips, holy shit. “Yeah, no problem.”

And is Robin hallucinating?? She could’ve sworn Steve had his eyes glued to Eddie’s tongue as it darts out to lick his lips. And then watching his scrawny ass walk away? They are so talking about this if they get out of this fight alive.

For now, Robin gives Steve a jug of water. “Drink lots, you’re probably dehydrated as hell. And I want you to stay in here and rest for at least an hour, okay? I’ll come wake you up if we need you.”

“Robin,” Steve sighs, but she’s already bulldozing over his protests.

“Sorry, doctor’s orders!” she tells him cheerfully before stooping down to press a kiss to his forehead. It’s killing two birds with one stone: showing Steve the physical affection he craves while also gauging if he has a fever. He’s a little warm and clammy, but not alarmingly so. She takes the deepest breath she’s been able to since Steve first got dragged through the gate at Lover’s Lake.

“Fine,” Steve huffs, already getting comfortable on the bench seat. “Love you.”

Robin smiles at the fond annoyance in his tone. “Love you, too, dingus. Try not to die in your sleep.”