#platonic stobin forever

[acowardinmordor]

You Left Me, You Miss Me

Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four

@mc-i-r is writing another version of this and tagged me and my brain woke up, so here ya go. This is almost all dialogue, and my new love for Mrs Buckley.

----

"Hey Steve-o! Get in here!" Robin yelled.

"Thought you were talking to your mom?" Steve shouted back.

"I am! That's why you have to come here! The cord won't reach!"

Steve hauled himself up from the corner of the kitchen where he was reorganizing things for the third time since they moved in last week. There was a pile of boxes they really needed to open in the hallway, and his mattress was still against the wall, but he kept going back to the kitchen, trying to make it work despite there being only one pull out drawer. One. They noticed before they signed the lease, but they both assumed they could make it work somehow if they just tried hard enough. But. Third time's the charm.

Flopping onto the thrifted couch next to his best friend, he leaned against her head, and greeted, "Hi Mrs Buckley, how are you?"

"Now why can't you answer the phone so politely, Robin? Who raised you to be so impolite?"

"Yeah, mom, I know you love Steve more than you love me, you tell me every time you talk to him, now can you say it again please?"

"Yes, well, like I was saying, I don't really know why they were all so upset about it, but I didn't want to overstep, so I didn't tell them anything. Not really. Only that you had moved and that you were fine. It's not like that's a secret. Then I noticed that they didn't know about that and so I didn't answer the rest of the questions, which really only made them more upset, but I think they were upset with me, not with the pair of you, so that's perfectly fine, none of them were nearly as vicious as Robin was when she was fifteen and decided she--"

"Mom!"

Steve giggled. Robin's rambling came from her mother, that was certain, and it was worse when they were on the phone. They fed on each other's talking. Like that snake thing.

"Right, yes. Well, Steve, like I told her, those boys, the ones you used to babysit for, they came around to ask if I knew where you were," Mrs Buckley finally said.

Robin grabbed his hand with the one not holding the phone, and pressed her forehead harder against his as they crowded the handset. Steve didn't think he'd reacted, but they didn't need anything as boring as a visible reaction to know each other.

"They said that they went into the video store and saw someone new at the desk, and when they heard that the two of you were no longer working there -- Apparently that manager of yours had some unpleasant words on the subject. You know I never liked him? The first time I stepped in there he asked me if I was still married? Not like that, of course, but it was still very strange. I didn't like it. And according to Robin he was always like that, wasn't he, Steven?"

"Yeah, he was pretty weird," Steve answered numbly.

"Well, that Keith fellow told them you were no longer employed there and that curly haired one demanded to know where you were employed. Since its not like he knew even if he would have told them, those boys went looking for themselves. I guess they went to your house first, Steven, and must have seen the for sale sign. I don't know what your parents are thinking, selling with the market like it is right now, but no one has ever made either of your parents listen to a single word of sense in their lives."

"Mom, the point?"

"Yes, sorry dear, like I told Robin, eventually it must have occurred to them that the two of you would be in the same place and thought to come by. Well. I say come by. First they called, and your father, you know how he is, simply said you were no longer in residence and hung up on them. He thinks he's so funny. Oh! Make sure you remember to call next Tuesday to congratulate him. It's his first day as the lead manager in the office. Oh no, wait, does it count as long distance for you? Never mind, I'll place the call so you don't have to worry about it."

"Mrs Buckley? You were saying something about Dustin?" He was proud that his voice was steady. They left Hawkins eleven days ago. They started packing two weeks before that. His parents put the house on the market around the same time. It wasn't until today that they noticed.

"Yes, that's the one. So Dustin didn't take your father's humor well, and he and his friends came by earlier this evening."

"Wait, evening?" Steve interrupted, "It was dark? They were biking around in the dark? In this weather?"

"Oh goodness no, that young man drove them. The one that was in the papers that the pair of you helped last year. He was much more polite than they were. Well, once I told them that you'd moved, they all started shouting over each other, I was sure that Ms Wickley was going to come over and scold them."

"I'm sorry, ma'am--"

"Oh you don't need to ma'am me Steven, I've told you that."

"Mom, he was just trying to be polite when he asked you to please get to the point, so can you, you know, try to get to the point some time tonight. You're paying for the call, but jeez."

"Oh yes. Well it occurred to me while they were all shouting that if they were your friends like they were saying, they would have known that you were moving. So when they managed to calm down enough I could hear a thing I said, I refused to tell them anything else. It's none of their business if you don't want it to be. And that Dustin boy said that you were his best friend, right in the same sentence he said he hadn't seen you in a month. But, I wasn't entirely sure if I was wrong about it, so I did promise I would ask you if you wanted me to pass on your information."

"Good job, mom, you finally got back to it. This is why I had you come over here, so you could hear that last part. I should have just asked you. Do you want my mom to give them our number or address or anything?" Robin had rolled her eyes over her mom's rambling, completely unaware she was just as terrible. But then she stared at him, concerned and outraged and protective and sad. God, he didn't know what he'd do without her.

"Did they ask?" Steve said.

"Ask? I don't think a single one of them knows how to ask anything. They certainly shouted a lot of demands. If you don't want me to tell them, I have no complaints about being the villain in this story. After everything you've done for my girl, being there for her before she even told me, and now making sure she's safe from any kind of trouble up there, you're such a perfect - what was the - beard? I think that's what I saw in that article in that magazine. Oh, no, the Zine, I ordered. But even without all that, I'll happily shut the door in their faces every day for a year if that's what you want done."

Steve's next breath stuttered, and that was all Robin needed to see.

"Hang on mom, I'm going to put the phone down, don't hang up, we'll be back." She sat the handset on the couch, then dragged a throw blanket over it to muffle their voices completely.

"You okay there or do I need to make a snap decision about which is going to be our household's vomit bowl?" He pushed her shoulder half-heartedly. "Okay, yeah, we both know it's gonna be the one with the cow on it. But you okay there, Stevie?"

"I'm fine."

"No you aren't."

"I'm fine."

She gasped, "You would lie to your soulmate? To her face?"

"I'm not! I'm fine! I just... I don't know, Robs."

Robin watched for a second as all of the muck of emotions bubbled inside him. Then she, as she always did, understood him.

"You want to say no. You want to tell her not to let them know where we are, but you're also freaking out because the brats come find you whenever It's back."

And because for a second, he desperately hoped that they missed him, or wanted to call so they could apologize for the last months. She didn't need to say that part. He half shrugged, sort of nodded, and bobbed his chin towards the throw blanket.

"You sure, Dingus?"

"Yeah."

"Is it gonna be Hopper or Joyce?" she faux wondered as she grabbed the phone from its prison. "Mom? Hi, back. Yeah, thank you. I'm gonna hand the phone to Steve now."

She didn't move away, but she didn't share the earpiece.

"Hi Mrs Buckley. I guess I -- could I ask a couple questions first?"

"Of course dear. What would you like to know?"

"Did any of them say anything weird or really specific?"

"Like what?"

"Like, about the mall, or last spring, or, bats, or uh, did they say anything about their dungeons and dragons game?"

"No. Why would they?"

Steve forced his shoulders to relax. El said it was done, but four years of it coming back meant he'd never fully trust that as true.

"No reason I guess."

"Well. That Munson boy did ask me about a radio right at the end. After the others stomped back to the driveway. He came back and he seemed - well he asked about a radio. And I said you certainly had a radio in your car, but I think he may have been talking about something else. Is that what you meant?"

"Okay, uh. Yeah. Thank you. I guess."

"So what would you like me to tell them next time I see one of them? If you'd like to take your time about it, you can. They were quite worked up about it, but it's a little ridiculous to act like they were owed something if they didn't even notice you two moving. You knocked over a stop sign with that rental truck."

Steve laughed. Couldn't help it. "I really can't wait, ma'am. They'll be back tomorrow morning to bother you." He gave Robin a look she immediately returned. Even without hearing the other half, she understood how true that was.

"Of course they won't, they have school," Mrs Buckley argued.

"Yeah, just means they'll be at your door even earlier."

"Well that's rude."

"Yeah, that's them. So, um. You can be rude back if you want. Don't, uh, you don't need to answer their questions. If you don't mind that they're not going to take it well."

Mrs Buckley laughed, loud and cackling for a moment, making the phone go staticky. "Oh dear, it would be my absolute pleasure to be rude right back to them. I'm much better at it. Anything else?"

"Yeah, you know Jim Hopper?" The resounding silence promised she was giving him the same judgemental look Robin was. "Sorry, that was dumb. But can you give him our number? Not to share with them, just so he has it. And, funny story about radios, but, the one that -- that that guy asked about is in your hall closet. Top shelf, next to the popcorn tin. Give Hopper that too?"

"Certainly, anything I should tell him, or should I ask to return the phone to my ridiculous child that you're generous enough to live with so I can say good night?"

For some reason, it made him think about the returns box at the store. A handle pulled open, the movie dropped inside, and nothing else needed. No one had to explain why they were giving back their copy of Breakfast Club. They had it for a while, hopefully they enjoyed it, and then when it was done, when they didn't need it anymore, or when it was overdue, when they kept it longer than they should have, costing them more money to keep around than it was worth, when they decided they were done with it, they didn't write a letter and explain why they--

"No. But, just. Tell him its for emergencies or something. Thank you, bye, or, goodnight ma'am, Mrs Buckley, uh, here's Robs. Bye."

He climbed off the couch as he shoved the phone at her, and headed for the window in his yet to be unpacked room. Rob would kill him in his sleep if he had a cigarette, but if he had any, he'd have taken the risk.

The glass was so cold it was painful against his forehead when he leaned into it, and he watched the little flurries of snow on the street kicked up by the wind. They didn't even notice for a few weeks. They'd quit Family Video a week before they left, and he knew the kids watched at least a few every weekend. They must have gone in, multiple times, and just, not noticed. Or not cared.

He wasn't sure which of those was worse.

He wasn't sure why it hurt when he made his peace with it weeks and weeks ago. It hadn't ached so vividly since the fall. Worst of all was the shock of concern for them, thinking they were out on their bikes in the dark and the snow. Then the relief that Eddie drove them. The feeling was huge enough to eclipse anything else until he knew they were safe.

Hadn't seen them in a month, barely seen them before that, and his first instinct was still to drop everything and grabs his keys. He was two hours away, and his brain was itchy to go drive by and check on them. They didn't need him to do that. They didn't want him to.

And based on how his stomach lurched when he heard that they didn't know he'd left, he didn't think it would do him any favors to go back. Hop and Joyce knew how to handle them if they started to do anything too risky, and the kids were practically glued to Eddie's side.

They weren't his to look after.

"Stop staring out the window like your lover is lost on the moors," Robin complained, wrapping him in a hug from behind.

"I have no idea what that means, Robs."

"Good, I'll explain it to you. Come on, lets go, we've got a kitchen to reorganize. I already started stuff for popcorn and hot chocolate. Lets gooooo, you're too heavy for me to carry, hup two."

Steve snorted and let her drag him away.

"I thought we were going to get my room set up, so I wouldn't have to share with you again?"

She gave him that look. That one that was fond and frustrated and sassy as shit. The one that said she wasn't going to let him get away with being dumb, but wasn't going to call him on it.

"It's a woman's prerogative to change her mind. You can share with me for a while longer. Now do the hot chocolate, and don't skimp on the whipped cream. We bought that can on sale and its going to go bad any second. Just use all of it. Directly into our mouths if we cant get it balance on the mug. Don't want to waste it, and we deserve it. I'm on popcorn duty, and then we're going to defeat this puzzle, Harrington. We outsmarted the Russians, we can outsmart the dishes!"

Shit. He sniffled as he followed her orders.

He was so damn grateful he still had her.

-----

Next>>

Still don't do tag lists. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[acowardinmordor]

Said it before and ill say it again, if they’re not weird to the point that people have asked el and will to check if there’s anything upside downy about them, you aren’t going far enough. And critically: they don’t notice that it’s weird until someone else points it out.

*grips your shoulders tightly* listen to me. you HAVE to make stobin weirder, okay? you have to make them the embodiment of that Secret Third Thing™️. they’re those cats at a shelter that you can’t separate for anything. make them do examinations of each others bodies cause they’re worried about a health issue. make them share a single piece of gum. make them swap pronouns and names and clothes on a regular basis. make them shower together. i need one of the kids to call for steve in a different room and have robin come to help instead because they’re one person. i need steve to show up to work wearing robins tag cause she’s too sick to come in. they have to get weirder, do you understand? it’s for their health.

[donttellunclesam]

and they were (Platonic) roommates

(close ups under the cut)

[foreveretherealseviltwin]

Stobin Appreciation Week 2023 by @dailystobin!!!

Day 4 : songs/lyrics/poems 🤍

spongebob // The Beatrice Letters, Lemony Snicket // A little life, Hanya Yanagihara // Ribs, Lorde // Normal People, Sally Rooney // Frog and Toad, Arnold Lobel // Stuck with me, The Neighborhood // Just Kids, Patti Smith // (pic) Troy and Abed (quo.) Winnie the Pooh by @/catbandits // Ryan O’Connell // Written on the body, Jeanette Winterson // Trista Mateer // Smoke Signals, Phoebe Bridgers // Grief Lessons: Four Plays by Euripides, Anne Carson

[starkidmunson]

glitter & crimson

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9

If Steve behaves during workouts over the next few days, he can’t be blamed. He’s trying to prove to his coaches and the team’s medical staff that he’s not rushing a return to the ice, but that he’s ready to lace up and get back out there. He bargains his way out of the full plastic face protection mask, opting for a full cage instead. By Sunday, he’s participating in the last full team practice before they pack up to leave Chicago, keeping up with his teammates despite how much he felt he’d been struggling just days earlier.

“You holding up?” Max asks, loudly, as he skates past where a few of the team doctors are sitting, observing and chatting.

“I’m fine,” He answers, and takes a shot, scoring past their goalie who had belly-flopped in the opposite direction of the puck. 

A few of his teammates ‘whoop’, while the goalie slams his stick against the ice, shoving a glove off his hand to flip Steve off, before getting back to work. 

Steve just snorts and skates back toward Max, holding his arms out. “Would you like to do a formal exam? I promise I’m good. I feel good.” He swears, winking at the redhead, scrunching up the side of his face still recovering, immediately wincing. She rolls her eyes and he laughs softly at himself. “Okay, that didn’t feel good, but that’s just because I’m dumb.”

“Not dumb!” She chastises, pointing at him, and the look on her face tells him he’s about to get a scheduled lecture from the entire Party about how he talks about himself again, so he opts to skate away instead, avoiding digging a hole for himself he can’t get out of.

It’s suspiciously quiet and seemingly empty at the apartment that afternoon until Steve ultimately finds Robin lying across his bed. His clothes are scattered everywhere around her. She shoots him a sheepish smile when he drops his bag beside her and raises an eyebrow.

“I was hoping to figure out a few outfits for you to take and look hot for your date with Eddie, but then I realized I have no idea how to dress you to impress a man.” She says, flopping back into the pillows.

Steve snorts and rolls his eyes. “I don’t think that was supposed to be an insult, but, ya know…” He trails off and laughs as Robin tosses a pillow in his direction.

“You know what I mean!”

“I do,” Steve laughs, catching the pillow and sitting beside Robin, picking at the seam of the pillowcase. “If it’s any consolation, I also have no idea how to dress me to impress guys. But I also don’t think impressing Eddie is going to have anything to do with what I wear. At least I hope it won’t.”

Robin makes a gagging noise, but it’s around a little smile, and Steve rolls his eyes before laying beside her, shoving a few tops out of his way. She waits until he’s not looking at her to speak again, both of them looking at the ceiling over his bed. “I just really want this to work for you. You deserve to be happy.” 

“I am happy, Robbie. I promise.” Steve’s softer, and for the first time in a long time, he thinks he honestly means it. Robin turns her head to look at him for a second before she wiggles closer to him and rests her head against his shoulder.

“You’re going to have to actually ask him out on a date, though, you know.” She says after a few beats, which makes him laugh.

“Not if he beats me to it,” He teases, pressing a little kiss to Robin’s temple. “But yeah, I know. I think I’m getting there.”

They lay like that for a few more minutes before Robin eventually shoves herself away from him, demanding he shower before they cuddle anymore. When Steve reenters his bedroom after a hot shower, he finds Robin has paired several tops to pants and folded them together, giving him options for outfits.

“I am humanly capable of dressing myself. I’ve been doing it for nearly 30 years now, you know.” He teases, and she rolls her eyes as he towel dries his hair. He drops the towel into his hamper and tips his head, makes an impressed face. “I wouldn’t have thought to put those pants with that top though, and I think it might just work.” He adds, lifting one of the pairings Robin has come up with and setting it into his travel bag. Robin grins and holds a finger up for him to wait, dashes out of the room, and returns a few moments later with a gray cardigan. “One step too far.” He teases, taking it from her hands and eyeing it skeptically.

“Just trust me on this? You look cuddly when you’re cozy.” She insists, so he sighs and packs it away despite his reservations.

Robin haphazardly throws a few pair of underwear, three tops and a single pair of jeans into a backpack and declares she’s ready to make the trip. 

It’s an early call at the airport on Monday, and Steve’s mostly still asleep as Robin slips into the window seat, pulling him along with her. He uses her shoulder, in combination with a neck pillow, as a headrest to sleep the flight away and he wakes up to his ears popping on the dissent, feeling a little more rested.

The players travel from the airport to check in at the hotel, then a few make their way to do tourist-y things around the city. Steve and Robin tag along, but end up breaking off from the group a few bars in along Broadway. They settle themselves into a corner and share a fishbowl sized concoction, and Steve texts Eddie to let him know they’ve arrived safe and sound and have already hit the town.

Eddie responds to the photo of Steve and Robin sipping from straws in the same bowl with a selfie Gareth took. Eddie’s in the background, using what looks to Steve like an oversized inhaler. He’s up in an instant, making his way around the woman performing on the small stage and outside onto the street where it’s not as noisy so he can call Eddie.

“That was fast,” Eddie teases, and he sounds fine, which confuses Steve further.

“Are you okay? What’s with the inhaler?” He asks, and Eddie’s quiet for a beat.

“Oh, no, Stevie, that’s not a… it’s a nebulizer. I was laying down vocal tracks earlier and it helps keep me from losing my voice.” He explains, then quickly follows up. “Oh my god, did you call because you were worried? That’s so… god, you’re adorable, you know that?”

Steve feels himself blush, and is grateful that they’re on a voice call and not a FaceTime, because Eddie would only tease him more if he could see the shade of red he’s sure his face is. “Shut up, I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“You’re so fucking sweet, Stevie.” Eddie’s voice is like butter, his charm on maximum, and Steve bites at his lip as he listens. “How long are you in town after the game?”

“Back to Chicago on Thursday for two days, then we hit a road stretch for most of next week.” Steve answers, and Eddie hums. “What’s that for?” Steve asks, genuinely curious.

“Means I’m trying to figure out if I want to hit the road, or wait until you’re back in Chicago for more than two days to make the next trip to see you.” 

Steve takes a deep breath at that, smiles, and lets out a huff of air that sounds like a light laugh. “I’m going to go back into the bar and finish this fishbowl, then we’re going back to the hotel to swim and sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow, after the game, okay?”

“I thought you didn’t drink before games?” Eddie asks, and Steve tries not to melt at the details the other remembers.

“I’m not taking the ice tomorrow, and I… usually just have a cut-off time. When we first met, I was worried I would say something stupid if I started drinking and end up scaring you off.” It’s more honest than he intends to be, more information than he means to share, but he doesn’t regret telling Eddie, and he isn’t embarrassed.

“I think we both know it takes more than that to scare me off, sweetheart.”

Steve’s pretty sure he stops breathing at the term of endearment and he can’t tell if Eddie is freaking out or proud of himself, because he doesn’t say anything for a moment before he gives a quick goodbye and hangs up, leaving Steve standing on Broadway, looking up at the “Tootsies Orchid Lounge” sign, trying to keep himself from spiraling.

Some time must pass, then, before Robin comes out to check on him, gently lays a hand on his shoulder to get his attention. “Dude, you okay?”

“He, uh. He called me sweetheart.” 

“Good grief,” Robin mumbles, resting her head on Steve’s shoulder. “I thought he broke up with you or something.”

“Kinda hard to break up with someone you aren’t dating, Robbie.” Steve shakes his head in an effort to pull himself together.

“Whatever you say,” she tugs his arm, then, leading him back into the bar where they finish their drink and head back to the hotel. 

~~~

Open mouth, insert foot. The Eddie Special. The one thing becoming a constant during his conversations with Steve.

“What did you call him?” Jeff asks around a smile after Eddie hangs up the phone, grabs the nearest throw pillow, and shoves his face into it.

“I’m pretty sure he said sweetheart.” Gareth provides in the least helpful moment he’s ever been to Eddie, confirming he had, indeed, used a fucking pet name while speaking with Steve.

“How did he take that?” Jeff is softer, no longer following the initial taunting route he seemed to be heading down, likely sensing Eddie’s unraveling.

“I don’t know, I think I blacked out.” He speaks into the pillow, muffled, before he drops it into his lap and stares blankly at the wall.

“Well, me and Jeff’ll be there tomorrow. We can try to prevent any catastrophes within our capabilities?” Gareth smacks Jeff’s leg, who nods in agreement, and Eddie sighs and throws himself back into the studio sofa.

The next day, they get to Bridgestone Arena early enough to grab snacks and not run into too many people who recognize them before filling into their suite. Eddie settles into his seat, comfortable with the temperature now that he knows how to dress for a game. 

The teams eventually make their way to the ice, and Eddie zeroes in on Steve until he skates into the Blackhawk’s box after the anthem.

This time around, Eddie manages to follow a good deal of what’s happening. He’s learned a lot about the game since his first attendance, and he finds it easier to track the puck now than it had seemed previously. He watches as the Preds make an early goal, how the Blackhawks are quick to respond by securing their own point. Watches as a play goes sideways, and a Blackhawk player ends up flipping over another player, then lays on the ice in just the right position to know something is wrong, that he’s hurt.

Play doesn’t stop for long, and when things pick back up, Steve takes the ice. Eddie snaps his fingers between Jeff and Gareth once before he’s on his feet, cheering. The boys join him, and soon, most of the Arena is giving Steve a standing ovation. Steve, though, is facing the direction of Eddie’s suite and gives a little salute before dropping into position, ready for the puck to hit the ice. 

~~~

When the backup forward goes down, Steve springs to his feet from inside the visitors box. An attempt at goal had drawn everyone near the Blackhawk’s net. A Predator had dove for the puck, and things went south fast. Watching from the sidelines was like watching in slow motion, as the med staff checked in on everyone involved and eventually carted the forward off the ice to be evaluated.

Behind him, the coaches evaluate their options as Steve checks his laces and lifts his helmet before tapping the coach's arm.

“I got this,” he promises, settling the helmet over his head and securing the cage over his face. With just a moment of hesitation, the coaches agree and Steve skates to center ice.

He bends down, waiting for the Predator’s forward to join him in their wait for the ref with the puck, but cheers erupt from one end of the arena and slowly, the noise wraps around the room. 

Steve straightens to look around, taking in who exactly was cheering. Fans in both Blackhawks gear and Predators are standing together, cheering and clapping. He glances around, confused before he notices a few of the players on both sides of the ice are also clapping toward him. That’s when it clicks, that all the noise is for him. 

He turns to where the cheering originated, zeroes in on the curly hair over a jersey with his number on the sleeves and he can’t help but grin. Steve gives a little gesture in Eddie’s direction, before skating back to the center ice with the Predator’s forward.

“Welcome back, Harrington.” The other forward says, just as the ref drops the puck and the game picked back up.

~~~

The Blackhawks don’t win the game, but it feels like the cement is drying around the memory in his mind as he showers after the game. He’d played well, even scored a goal, but the Predators manage to get a buzzer-beater in at the last minute after tying things up near the end of the third. But the cheering when he stepped back out onto the ice was an experience he’d never forget.

Eddie texts Steve the address to a brewery in East Nashville, and that’s where he and Robin head as everyone else makes their way into the city. 

Upon arrival, Robin b-lines across the parking lot for the door, but Steve spots a thin trail of smoke that catches his attention. He follows it, smiles when it turns out to be exactly who he expected. Eddie’s propped up against the side of the building, foot resting flat as his back against the wall behind him, smoking a cigarette.

“Kinda figured I’d find you at the end of the smoke trail.” Steve teased softly, catching Eddie’s attention. 

“Looks like I’ve been caught, then,” Eddie laughs, and takes a long, final drag from the cigarette before putting it out into the ash urn. He blows the smoke away from Steve, and keeps a smile on his face. “Wanna grab a drink? I had the guys order appetizers, but we can get real food, too, if you want?”

“I actually….” Steve hesitates, and Eddie raises his eyebrows. Steve considers dropping it, just agreeing to go inside and eat and have a good time with everyone. But then Eddie’s face softens into a little smile and Steve’s chest warms. “Fuck it. Do you want to grab dinner tomorrow? Just the two of us?”

Eddie visibly blue screens. There’s no emotion on his face as he watches Steve before him for a moment, then breaks out into a grin. “You asking me on a date, Harrington?”

“I am.” Steve nods, grins back at Eddie, watches as he twists a curl around his finger and pulls it in front of his face, twisting his body so his arm is propped against the wall, facing Steve head on.

“I think I would like that, yeah.” Eddie agrees. Steve smiles, feels like something has lifted between the two of them, and holds his hand out. Eddie tangles their fingers together and lets Steve pull him into the brewery.

Robin seems suspicious as they enter, but drops her interest as they sit at the end of the table across from one another, sipping on beers and munching on nachos and mozzarella sticks, chatting about the game and the new music the band is recording. 

And if Steve manages to keep his composure when Eddie hooks an ankle around his own under the table, it’s because he’s an adult and not a high schooler tripping over his own feet to impress the guy across from him, and totally not because he knows the entire rest of the table would have a field day if he got flustered by the littlest touch.

[acowardinmordor]

You say you want weirdly, insanely close Stobin? You want them to be one soul in two people? You want them to be inexplicable and the exemption to every rule? Get on this level.

But seriously, the dead dove is there as a multiplier. Take it seriously, and if you're mean to the author, I'll hunt you down.

by ratherbeblue

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong? I thought you’d like the idea of auntie Robin being an incubator for your little nuggets.” Steve wrinkles his nose a little. “Yeah, but you couldn’t do that.” Robin watches him. “Well why not?” “What?” “Steve, I would literally die for you, why wouldn’t I do this?”

Words: 5328, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Stranger Things (TV 2016)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: Multi

Characters: Robin Buckley, Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington

Relationships: Robin Buckley/Steve Harrington, Robin Buckley/Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson

Additional Tags: Threesome - F/M/M, Trans Eddie Munson, Gay Eddie Munson, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Lesbian Robin Buckley, Discussion of Pregnancy, Platonic Sex, Oral Sex, Vaginal Sex, Pegging, Unsafe Sex, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Humor, Friendship, Multiple Orgasms

[demobatman]

pulp art cover stobin 😎

(no background vers. below the fold)

;P

[paperbackribs]

He was going to ask for a glass of milk

"I've got to have something," Eddie mutters, "I still have Steve in my mouth."

"You're a pig, don't you dare even say it--" Robin groans at Steve as he perks up next to her. She falls back with a dramatic eye roll against the couch while somehow conveying a sense of comraderie to her hive-mind twin, faintly gesturing for him to continue onwards with an indulgent hand movement.

"You mean...?" Steve asks meaningfully, voice earnestly hopeful even while sweet hazel eyes deepen over a dirty smirk.

Eddie quirks an eyebrow over the second lot of homemade cookies halfway to his mouth, clueless until he suddenly, horrifyingly understands how the dynamic duo had interpreted his words.

"You mean..." Eddie echoes incredulously, waiting for the two of them to jump up, do jazz hands and cry out: 'surprise you homo, Steve Harrington is not into you.'

Instead.

Oh my god, Eddie thinks, as they turn and nod at each other, heart beating harder as Steve's face firms in a familiar determined expression, as if Eddie's a goal to be stolen away from the home team.

Swiftly, and in an almost professional manner that has Robin clapping Steve between his shoulders, she swiftly exits their apartment. The slap of the door slamming behind her echoes through the place and Steve steps forward, eyes mischievous in a way that has Eddie's knees near buckling.

"Want to have a real reason to wash out your mouth?"

[hairmetal666]

Steve's picking at his fries, gone a little cold, when a phone rings, the burner tucked into the dresser between piles of boxer briefs and socks. His heart picks up at the sound, and he launches himself across the room. The caller ID reads “unknown,” of course it does, but he answers without hesitation.

Robin Buckley’s face fills the screen, and he thinks he might cry in relief. He’s missed her, his sister, the uncontested other half of his heart.

“What’s wrong?” She asks, her expression immediately serious.

He thinks he might cry. “Who said anything is wrong?”

“Steve Harrington. Don’t you dare try to deflect."

“I’m not! I just don’t know why you automatically assume something’s wrong.”

“Um, let’s see.” She starts counting on her fingers. “Your face, your body, even your fucking hair is sad. Your little mouth is all pinched up, and you look about five seconds from breaking down in tears.”

He blinks at her, the aforementioned tears welling with a vengeance.

“Oh, Steve, what’s going on?”

He flaps his hand in front of his face, waving her off. “It’s nothing, just—it’s nothing.”

“Are things going badly with your mom? If she’s being mean to you—”

“It’s not that.”

“Okay, well, what the fuck is it?”

He pinches the bridge of his nose. “There’s this guy.”

Forever is the Sweetest Con chapter 16 up now on ao3!

[wryderz]

if you stay, i would even wait all night

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Robin jolted in her bed, heart pounding. She hadn’t been asleep—Christ, who could sleep after everything that happened— but had instead been staring up at the ceiling, trying to think about anything other than the events of the past week. Her bedside lamp dimly illuminated her room with a warm light. However, this did nothing to quell the tight, tense panic that had settled into Robin’s body, even after the figurative storm.

Tap. Tap.

There it was again, that noise. She couldn’t convince herself that it was just a stray tree branch or a nocturnal animal, no. She sat up, reaching for the kitchen knife that she had placed on her dresser. Flattening her body against the wall, she peeked out the window that faced the street.

TAP!

Something small, blunt, and round hit her window, and Robin flinched, pulling away from the glass in an involuntary response. Now her hands were really shaking, trembling in the lamplight glinting off of the knife. Shit, she thought to herself. Shit. She could handle everything—the Russians, the Mind Flayer—but that was when she had Steve. And the eleven-year-old with superpowers. And, well, everybody else.

But now she was alone. She looked out the window again, praying that it had just been a trick of her mind. A figure stood outside of her window, only partially illuminated by the streetlight, face hidden. Panic flooded her mind. Was it the Russian government? Maybe they sent someone to kill her, to threaten her or finally silence her once and for all. Or maybe it was another person who’d gotten… mind-flayed. The image of a Lovecraftian horror breaking into her room, tendrils drilling, ripping into her flesh, flashed briefly in her mind. She shook her head, and looked at the figure again. She was so, so screwed. She opened the latch to her window, making sure that the silhouette of the knife in her hand was fully visible.

"Who are you? What do you want?" she called out to the street as quietly as possible, so as to not wake her parents. She tried to make her voice tough, angry, but it quavered on want, her fear betraying her. Her voice, uncertain and small, echoed back to her, mocking her.

To her surprise, the voice that answered was deeply familiar.

"It’s Steve," came the answer. "Uh, Harrington?" The fact that he had to specify amused Robin, and the corner of her mouth lifted into a small smile. She didn’t realise it, but it was the first time she had smiled all week.

"What are you doing here?"

"I…" he was silent for a moment. "Can I come up?"

Robin hesitated. It could be a trap. But she still had her knife with her, and it wouldn’t hurt…

"Yeah, okay," she said, her guard lowering at his warm voice.

He clambered up the side of the house expertly, as he had done so many times before, and pulled himself up through the window in one swift motion. His hair was tousled from the feat, reminiscent of a scene from Romeo and Juliet, ironic considering the circumstances.

"Wow," he said, breathless, after catching a glance of the knife in Robin’s hand. “You really did stock up.” Robin could tell that he was trying to lighten the mood in a way of explaining his situation. She could’ve joked in return, but instead, she set the knife down and hugged him fiercely. Steve relaxed at her touch, hugging her back almost desperately. As if he hadn’t touched anyone since everything that had happened. His breaths felt uneven and heavy, as if he were on the verge of tears.

"I just," he said with a shaky breath, "didn’t know what else to do. I couldn’t eat, I couldn’t sleep, I—"

"Hey," she said, holding him tighter. "It’s okay. Me neither." They stayed like this for a good long while, just embracing and feeling a blanket of relief at the other’s presence.

"You scared me at first, you know," Robin said, after they had released each other and were laying next to each other on the bed. "I thought you were, like, another Russian agent. Or one of the Mind Flayer’s cronies.

"Yeah, sorry," Steve laughed. "I just thought it’d be weird if I came and knocked on your door. Like, all, 'Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Buckley! It’s past midnight, but can I see your daughter?'" Robin snorted, but she wasn’t in the mood for jokes.

"It all just doesn’t feel... real, you know?" she said.

"I know," he said.

"I feel like I’ll never be able to sleep again. I jump at everything. The shadows on the wall, the sound of a car passing-"

"About that," Steve said. "I was wondering… can I…?" He looked at her hesitantly, not wanting to verbalise his request. His eyes were filled with an empty feeling of abandonment, of loss, of hopelessness that wrenched Robin’s heart. In the warm light, a purple bruise now stood out like a stamp on his cheekbone, and Robin reached up to touch it tenderly. Steve didn’t flinch away, but instead leaned into her touch.

"You’re staying here tonight. Every night, if you want," she said with a finality. Steve’s eyes flooded with relief.

"Thank you," he whispered, voice barely audible. Robin turned to clamber onto her bed, fixing the sheets and fluffing up the pillows. As she laid onto the mattress, Steve stood to look at her.

Awkwardly, he said, "Uh, I can just sleep on the ground, if you want. If you have an extra pillow-"

"Get up here, dumbass," she said affectionately, grabbing his arm and pulling him to the bed. "I wasn’t making my bed for nothing." He slowly clambered onto the bed, as if he was afraid of making Robin uncomfortable.

"It’s gonna be okay, you know," she murmured, her eyes locking with his in the dim light.

"I know."

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

Steve and Nancy are both badasses. They are THE power couple. Robin wholeheartedly agrees. It becomes a problem, however, when Steve and Nancy get called into the principals office to take their daughter home.

Barb: But Daddy, you and Mommy always said not to lie.

Steve: Yeah, but you can't go around telling kids that your parents can kick their asses.

Barb: Why?

Steve: Because you can't.

Barb: But why?

Steve: *sigh* Because it looks bad when grown-ups hurt children.

Barb: So, I could have kicked their ass!

Nancy: *struggling not to laugh* Language!

Barb: Mommy, you told me that if someone needed help that I should help them, and that kid was being mean to Annie.

Nancy: I did say that. Next time, though, get a teacher.

Barb: I did that before, but they didn't do anything. They said that because they didn't see it, they couldn't do anything. *gasp* Mommy, can I film them?

Steve: *proudly* She's going to grow up and break into a lab, isn't she? Are you going to become a world-famous reporter like Mommy?

Barb: No, I want to be a lesbian like Aunt Robin! I want to learn all the languages like her!

Nancy: *laughing* I think you mean linguist, dear.

Steve: But if you ever do realize that you're a lesbian, we'll support you no matter what.

Barb: What if I want to be a spider? Would you still love me if I was a spider?

Steve: Yes, we would still love you if you were a spider.

[acowardinmordor]

Steve and Robin need to be closer in fic. They are peak platonic. That means Naked no longer has any connection to Sex for them. Just bodies. And since they are one person, of course they're weirdly close about body stuff too.

If Robin freaks out that her boobs look weird, Steve for sure ends up first, bringing Robin porno mags, and when that doesn't make Robin calm down, yes, she's tits out, demanding that he give her an impartial opinion. Steve goes camping with Dustin, somehow ends up with a tick in his pubes, can't see to get rid of it, and yes, of course he calls Robin for help. Of Course she shows up with tweezers and too much information about lyme disease. Robin finds out Steve as a set of moles that look like Orion next to is dick, and uses it as a nickname to remind him that she has his back through anything. Steve has absolutely talked Robin down from the brink because sex ed is garbage in America, and she thought all discharge meant she had an std or something.

Grossly close. That is what I want to see more of. No boundaries, no borders, and so platonic that any potential sexual undertones of what they're doing doesn't even occur to them.

[augustjustice]

I am gripped by the idea of Kas!Steve.

But specifically...broken Steve, who’s been tortured and tormented and mind-controlled by Vecna, until he’s been sharpened into a weapon, his old King Steve persona pulled on like reshaped armor but now so much worse than Steve himself had ever been.

Kas!Steve who’s cocky and smug, who spews every cruel thought the gang has ever worried he’s had about them, clawing at each one of their insecurities with piercing accuracy. Because he knows them, from years of being friend and confidante. Their beating hearts, their strengths and weaknesses. So he taunts Robin by spilling every precious secret they’ve shared. Mocks Dustin and all the kids for being pathetic and snot-nosed, following in his footsteps like lost puppies. Needles Eddie about how obvious his crush on him is. Tells Nancy it really is their fault, what happened to Barbara all those years ago.

And it’s all so pointed, feels so specific, so...real, the group can’t help the worry that gnaws at each of them (just like Vecna would want), that this is what Steve really thinks.

Even more so when some of his barbs draw attention to the ways they’ve treated him. When Steve laughs at the thought of them overpowering him when for years they’ve been relying on him to be the tank, to take all the hard licks. Do they really think they can take him down? Like this? It’s as comical as it is pathetic, this new, dark Steve, the betrayer, the bloody, tells them, and Dustin sees the way that Nancy flinches, catches Robin’s pained eyes, guilt gripping each of their throats.

The question lingers, even hours after Steve has slunk back into the shadows, another battle they barely scraped out of alive behind them.

How will they do this without Steve?

[strawberryspence]

Part 1 / Part 2 (please read part 1 first)

Robin Buckley finds birthdays weird. The first one you ever have, all the people around you celebrate while you don’t understand anything. You don’t remember much of the next few ones, maybe your seventh, your eighth.

Robin’s favorite birthday from her childhood is her twelfth. It’s nothing special. But she remembers the day so clearly, her friends, grandparents and parents singing in the park as she blows out candles. She remembers playing at the park for the rest of the day with her friends and this one boy. Golden hair, brown wide eyes, and a toothy smile. She remembers telling him it’s her birthday and she remembers the boy softly singing three lines of Happy Birthday as her other friends play in the background. Robin watches him make a flower crown with daisies, before offering it to her, as a birthday present. Robin takes a few daisies, tucks it into his brown hair. Before he leaves, Robin asks him to keep the daisies, to remember her by, and Robin keeps the remnants of the flower crown tucked in an old book somewhere.

Robin’s best birthday ever is her nineteenth birthday. It’s the first of her birthdays that she and Steve celebrate together as bestfriends. Steve makes a big deal out of it. He bakes a chocolate cake, garnished with shaved chocolates on top just the way she likes it. Steve drives them to Indianapolis, takes her to her favorite stores, buys her a tiny rainbow pin and tucking it in her jean jacket with the softest smile. He buys one of his own, tucks it in the sleeve of his ridiculous wine red sweater.

They go home, and at home Steve shows her his room. He’s shy, doesn’t even want to show her. His room, even with dull and colorless wallpaper has never been dull when Steve Harrington is in it. But tonight, it’s filled with the brightest fairylights, stringed around the room, turning it into the smallest and most wonderful wonderland.

“It’s the closest thing to Paris I have right now.”

Because Paris is Robin Buckley’s dream destination. Because Steve Harrington knows her, like the back of his hand. Because Steve Harrington is his soulmate.

There Steve sings her a soft, quiet Happy Birthday and asks her to make a wish. They sit in bed all night, eating the cake with two forks in the same plate, wearing ridiculous party hats, as the lights surround them.

“Someday, we’re going to Paris, watch the lights, and eat some ridiculously expensive cake.” Steve announces.

Robin laughs, “All right. It’s a deal, Dingus.” She playfully puts out her pinky, and Steve laughs, looping his pinky into hers.

Steve gives her his gifts, an old pocket book for touring Europe and a black denim jacket, with sherpa collar. It has patches sewn all over it, carefully choosen and sewn together.

“Dude, did you make this!?” Steve laughs, shaking his head, no. “Well, I didn’t do everything. But I did this.” He takes the coat, flipping it inside out. In the right chest, just above the pocket is a rainbow sewn in patch.

“Steve.” She chokes out, hand shaking as she gently caresses the patch.

Steve smirks at her, “If you need anything, you will find the key here.”

Robin laughs, “Stop being so creepy!”

They laugh.

It’s Robin’s best birthday ever.

It’s Robin Buckley’s first birthday with Steve Harrington.

It’s Robin Buckley’s last birthday with Steve Harrington.

Her schmuck, her bestfriend, her soulmate, her Steve. Just gone.

All she has left is money, clothes and a box she can’t even fucking open.

She storms his closet, greedy for anything that had even the smallest hint of his smell, that ridiculous hairspray and some kind of fucking wood that she can’t name. She takes a box out, takes that ridiculous yellow sweater he threw at Eddie. The same sweater they went back for, the same one he cried over, the same one he was clutching as he admitted feeling that hint of electricity with Eddie. She sees the denim vest neatly folded in the bottom of his closet, and Robin knows she needs to give it to Dustin or Wayne or to anyone but she shucks it to the box. She takes his letterman jacket, takes the stripes polo she always made fun of, took some of his old Hawkins shirts, she knows she can’t take everything. Max and Dustin and Erica would want some, but she wants everything she can take, anything that has a smidge left of Steve Harrington. She wants— no, she needs it. Because her bestfriend is just gone.

The moment her hand furls against the familiar fabric, tears fills her eyes. Robin has cried so much in the last twenty-five days that she should be empty, she should be all cried out. But the moment her hand touches the wine red sweater, she breaks, her knees buckling as she falls to the floor with a thud. She touches the sleeves, and something prickly touches her, she knows what it is. But the sight of the raindow pin still tucked in the sleeve makes her scream, a scream stuck between a sob and a wail, as she hugs the sweater closer, Steve’s ridiculous fucking perfume sweeping her nostrils.

“I can’t fucking believe you, Steve Harrington!” She sobs, she hears the door swinging open, and she’s not even sure who’s comforting her, who’s hugging her, but they’re also shaking, chest sobbing. Robin crumples the sweater to her chest, as close as she can as if it’ll squeeze out the essence of her bestfriend.

“I can’t do this. I can’t do this. I can’t do this without you, please, Steve."

Robin has never cried harder, she’s exhausted, her throat is hoarse, she hasn’t slept in the last twenty-five days and someone is holding her.

If she squeezes her eyes shot hard enough, holds the sweater close enough to smell and imagine. It’s just another day, just another day, she just woke up with a the worst nightmare and Steve is holding her in his familiar arms, lulling her back to sleep, to safety with his warmth.

Robin blacks out. It’s the first night she slept all through the night since Steve Harrington died.

Robin’s twentieth birthday is quiet. The kids, Nancy, Jon and Argyle baked her a cake. It’s not chocolate, but it tasted good. They sing, and Robin acts like she’s making a wish. She doesn't have the heart to tell them that no amount of candles, or birthday wishes, can ever bring back her wish. They watch more than three movies at the Wheeler basement, eat junk, eat cake and laugh, like there aren’t missing holes in their lives.

When the time comes, they all go home. Robin goes home, hangs her black denim jacket on the wall, and just like the days before the box on top of her desk taunts her. She hasn’t opened it yet, not that she knows where the key is. Her bestfriend only decided to be cryptic when he’s already six feet under the ground. Once, Dustin saw it and smiled at her, some kind of understanding flashing in his face, “You haven’t opened it too, huh?”

“How do you want me to open this, you fucking Dingus?” Robin whispers, shaking the box.

A thud makes her turn around, the hook where her jacket was hooked fell of the wall, leaving a dent and a few holes on the wall. Robin squints at it, the hook has been there since she was a child and has never went loose. She slowly moves closer to take the jacket off the floor, when she catches glimpse of the embroidered rainbow patch.

She smiles at it, slowly caressing it, and as if he’s just behind her, a whisper of voice in the back of her mind, “If you need anything, you will find the key here.”

“You fucking weirdo.” Robin laughs, tears starting to fill her eyes as she ransacks her room for a seam ripper. When she finds one, she’s laughing like a maniac as she tears a small part of it, not intending to remove the whole patch but just enough to take the key out. Robin squeezes just enough for the key to fall out. And there it is, in her hands, a small golden key.

She scrambles to reach for the box, falling to the floor as she tries to reach for it. She sits on the floor, criss-crossed as her hands shake and tears falls from her eyes. She opens the box.

It’s filled with white envelopes. A small note clipped on the lid:

If you’re opening this, I am sorry. I promise I am with you for every birthday. I tried my best to do as many as I can.

You are my soulmate, Robin Buckley. Maybe in some other universe, I will spend birthdays with you since day one. For this one, I hope this will do.

Happy Birthday. I love you.

- Dingus.

P.S. Go to Paris for the both of us, huh? Buy the most ridiculously expensive chocolate cake you can find.

Robin thumbs over the envelopes, numbering from 20 to 90. With shaky hands, she reaches for 20, gingerly opening it.

It’s a hallmark card, with three ice creams on the front. CONE-GRATULATIONS! It’s your birthday!

Robin chuckles as she opens it, her bestfriends familiar handwriting scribbled on the white card.

Happy 20th, Buckley! I hope to God you don’t get to read this card! I want to be there for your 20th and I sure as hell will be there!

In the off chance that you’re reading this, fuck, I am sorry. I must’ve done something stupid. I am sorry we don’t get to spend more birthdays together. I will be with you through a card every year.

I am so glad you were born, I was nothing without you.

Love you, Robs. Happy Birthday!

— Your schmuck, Steve Harrington

“And I am nothing without you, Steve Harrington.” She gasps, holding the card to her chest, sobs rocking her body as she slips into the red sweater she wears to bed every night.

She hasn’t washed it once and it barely smells like him anymore. She wonders when she’ll forget how he smelled like, wonders if she’ll ever find the perfect candle that smells just like him so she can light it up anytime she needs it, wonders if they’ll ever discontinue the Farrah Fawcet spray she uses in her hair even though she doesn’t need it.

Robin falls asleep with a card clutched in her hand and a sweater that barely smells like her bestfriend anymore.

Robin’s twenty-sixth birthday is when she finally goes to Paris.

She leaves everything in the hotel but the old pocket book Steve gave her and her 26th birthday card.

She buys the most expensive chocolate cake she can find, asks for two forks and finds a sit just in front the bright Eiffel Tower.

She opens her card, laughs, cries, and thinks about what Steve could have been doing beside her right now. Golden hair, brown wide eyes, and toothy smile, in a wine red sweater and a scarf around his neck.

She eats her cake. It’s good. But the best chocolate cake she’s ever had was in a bed, in a bedroom filled with lights, eaten with two forks in one plate.

She clutches her coat closer, the wine red sweater keeping her warm, like it always has in the past six years.

She opens the forgotten pocket book. The one Steve gave her on her nineteenth birthday. She’s never opened it, never wanted to face the fact that she’s going alone. The cover is battered, the pages yellowing as she flips the book slowly.

A single piece of picture falls from it. It lands face down. Robin can recognize the handwriting from anywhere.

“This is 12 year old Steve in front of the Eiffel Tower! In a few years, it’ll be you and me! Happy nineteenth birthday, Robs! P.S. Don’t mind the flower! I got it from a friend! Didn’t want to remove it because it’s really old and dry.”

Robin flips the picture, and there he was. Golden hair, brown eyes, and toothy smile. The same boy she played with, but in front of the same tower she’s in front of right now.

A single dried daisy is taped on the corner.

Robin laughs, smiling with tears at the picture.

Way before they both realized, way before they even properly met, way before they scooped ice creams together, way before blood and drugs made them close.

Way before everything, there were two kids, who played together in a park, daisies weaved into their hairs.

Robin Buckley spent her favorite birthday, her best birthday, and will continue to spend the rest of her birthdays with her soulmate.

Because even beyond the grave, her soulmate will never let her celebrate alone.

Steve Harrington will be there, one way or another.

(again, i am very sorry. if it helps u feel better i can barely see through the tears while writing this)

[formosusiniquis]

I need to write unhinged Stobin again, why am I not always writing unhinged stobin

Send me a stobin prompt and I'll write a short (1k or less) ficlet for you

[pizzaqueen]

Literally everything still makes me think of them. I’ve been marathoning The X-Files and thinking about Eddie and Steve and Robin, of course, watching it every Friday night in their little apartment, squished together on the two-seater couch they bought or were given when they first moved in and that they can’t bear to part with even though it’s too small, eating takeout from a little place down the street straight from the containers, yelling about their theories about what’s going on and whether or not Mulder and Scully are into each other or going to do anything about it.

And sometimes Steve falls asleep after a long day at work and Robin will try to wake him so he doesn’t miss anything, but Eddie will tell her to leave him, he’s tired, and Robin can’t help but smile because it’s nice how much Eddie loves Steve.

And one night the couch just collapses and they mourn it (Eddie insists on holding a funeral) but Steve says they can get a bigger one, now, and it will leave room for Robin’s one-day girlfriend, whoever she may be.

And they eventually move apartments and Robin gets a girlfriend (the couch is just big enough for the four of them) but they still watch it every week (if they do miss it, they tape it and make Saturday or Sunday or another day their Friday night that week) and they grumble a little when The X-Files moves nights but, even though it's a different day, it's the same routine. And, when the show finishes, they still get together at the same time. Plenty of things in their lives change, but not this