Chapter Text
Robin’s not sure why she takes no notice of Jonathan Byers in high school. The guy is a strata below her, it’s true. Robin is by no means cool but she’s not a freak, at least. She heard the rumors and she’s ashamed to say she believed them, for the longest while. She and her friends were just relieved not to be the lowest hanging fruit for goons like Tommy H. So - Jonathan Byers, she’d think. What a creep.
Her parents didn’t help. Her dad’s never around - business trips, he says - but when he is he loves to be caught up on town gossip. That November, when poor Will was missing, all her dad said-
“It’s a shame, really. The Byers woman will be carted off to the asylum in no time, and she always gave such good discounts at the store since she’s so bad at math.”
That’s all he fucking said. Robin had frowned at the time, let out a short Dad as a kind of reproach, but he’d shrugged. “The weirdos always get their comeuppance, Robin. It’s how the world works.”
And she’d felt cold, and resolved to smile at Jonathan the next time she saw him in the corridor.
Only-
That’s as far as it went. She barely noticed when Will came back, and when the whole troop of his friends plus Steve plus Nancy plus Jonathan all missed class for a good few days the following year. She was too preoccupied with her fading obsession with Tammy Thompson, and lately a new French teacher whom she was sure was only nineteen.
But then summer rolled around, and Scoops Ahoy rolled around, and Steve rolled around-
Steve, whom she told something she’s never told anyone. She’d never have said anything, not if she was sober, but something about his easy smile- the way he slid under the stall over the filthy toilet floor-
She’s not into boys, but she thinks Nancy Wheeler was a fool to let him go.
This, of course, is before she meets Nancy and Jonathan and has to do everything in her power to prevent herself falling head over heels in love with her. Because damn. The girl can handle a gun like she’s some kind of action hero- like she’s in some shitty action movie, where’s she’s the best bit-
But she’s straight, and clearly hopelessly devoted to Jonathan (she’d have to be, to let Steve go), so Robin manages to curtail these feelings in time.
Their meeting is brief on the Night. The Night, where everything apparently goes to shit, where at least two people die (not including the Russians)-
Robin’s new to all this, but she’s pretty sure that’s not how it’s supposed to go.
But she doesn’t feel involved. They’re all grieving, so she just goes home, for the first time in days, and has a shower. Changes into normal fucking clothes. Sleeps fitfully, just because there’s still adrenaline pounding through her system. The adrenaline of running, fighting, telling Steve goddamn Harrington of all people she likes girls.
And guess who shows up the next morning?
She’s hunched over a bowl of cereal, her mom making coffee behind her, when Steve slams a fist down on the horn. She goes to the window and sees his obnoxious car and his frantic waving from the driver’s seat and leaves her cereal bowl on the counter, forgotten.
“Have fun!” her absent mom shouts behind her. Robin can’t fucking wait to get out.
“The Chief’s alive,” he says as she slides into shotgun. She gasps. “Yeah, I know. I don’t- we’re having some kind of? Party? Dustin just said to come, so-“
“So drive,” she says, voice breaking with the thrill. God, the adrenaline’s back, and it’s ecstatic. Her shower and her bed and her cereal are so fucking boring compared to this.
They arrive at the Byers’ in record time and to her surprise there’s no one there, only Joyce and Jonathan and Nancy and Will. Jonathan shrugs at her as she comes in.
“Hopper and El went back to get some stuff from the cabin,” he says. “You’re here early.”
Steve starts swearing. “Dustin- I swear to god- little dickhead-“
“Well, you’re here, so. Mom’s making breakfast.”
The first time she talks to Mrs Byers is way, way too early in the morning and the kitchen reeks of burning food. The older woman is stirring eggs in a pan with a frazzled expression, but turns to look at Robin with a smile.
“Hey, Robin. Breakfast?”
“Uh, yeah, sure,” she replies. She’s wrongfooted by Joyce’s easy kindness, because it goes so completely against everything she’s heard. And there’s nothing to mock, because from even a second in her company Robin can tell she’s formidable too. Her eyes are red and sunken with exhaustion, her hairline marred by the heavy scrawl of stitches, but she looks uncommonly happy and calm in the morning light.
“Jonathan, do you wanna make some coffee?” she asks, and he moves to the kettle.
“I really wish you’d let me make breakfast, Mom,” he says, with a long-suffering air.
She shakes her head. “Not a chance. And practice makes perfect, right?”
“Yeah, but only to a certain point,” he mutters under his breath, but there’s a fond smile teasing his lips. And Robin- well, she finds herself smiling along. There’s something ridiculously heartwarming about this family, even over something as simple as breakfast.
“Uh, Mrs Byers, did you want us to buy anything? I know you’ve been away for a few days, we can go to the store-“
Joyce shakes her head fervently at Steve’s suggestion. “No, no, we’re fine. Go sit down. You might be here early but there’s plenty of eggs to spare.”
“Really?” Robin can’t help but say sarcastically, as Jonathan lets out a help and pushes past his mom to the pan.
“Mom! Eggs!” Will yells, emerging from the corridor, wrinkling his nose at the smell. She drops her head and pinches the bridge of her nose, before letting out a rather impressive “Fuck!”
“Mom- it’s okay-“ Jonathan starts, turning from the eggs to his mom, but then she begins to laugh. Shoulders shaking, face scrunching up kind of laugh. The kind of laugh Robin shared with Steve last night, as a massive release of tension.
“Maybe I should leave it to you next time,” she says, ruffling his hair and moving away from the stove. “So, as you can see, Robin, I’m a human disaster when it comes to the kitchen. Everyone else already knows it, so it’s kind of an induction ceremony for you.”
“Huh,” is all Robin says, because she’s never met a mom quite like her.
(She remembers the sound over the radio last night, before they all remembered to turn it off. Joyce just sobbing, and sobbing, and sobbing. El screaming in the background. It’s all so different, now. Joyce smiling like nothing ever went wrong.)
They all take a seat and Jonathan comes out with round two of the eggs, not burnt this time, and the silence is filled with not unpleasant small talk. (Nevermind that Robin usually hates smalltalk.)
“So, Robin, you’re still at school?” Joyce asks, looking at her over the rim of her coffee mug.
She nods. “Yeah, uh, I’m the same year as Jonathan and Nancy. One year left.” She lets out an awkward laugh. “Got no fucking clue what I’m gonna do after that, but.” Then she freezes, because is she allowed to swear? Her mom doesn’t like it, but Joyce is so different she almost forgot she’s a mom-
Joyce just shrugs. “You’ll figure it out.”
When Robin turns, Nancy is grinning around a forkful of eggs. “Hey, uh, Steve? What are your plans?” she asks, like she’s saving Robin, who is floundering for something else to say. God, it’s like she’s really trying to make her life harder-
Steve shrugs. “My dad wants me to work at the company but right now I’m stuck at Scoops- well, I was. I kinda wanna go to college but I have no idea what for and I’m not really smart enough, so.”
“You don’t have to be smart to go to college,” Robin blurts out. Well, it’s a bit of a backhanded compliment, to say the least. Steve blinks. “I just mean- my mom went to college. And she’s not exactly breaking records, so.”
“Well, if you need a scholarship then you kind of have to have a decent gpa.” Jonathan’s comment is quiet, a little bitter. Silence descends. She notes that Nancy is shifting uncomfortably, like this is an argument they’ve had before, and Joyce’s gaze is trained on her plate.
Robin strives to think of something, anything, to say. She doesn’t want this to be where her relationship with the Byers ends - with an awkward silence and the cataclysmic social gap between them and her best friend. She sees Joyce lighting a cigarette and nearly laughs out loud, because once again this is the furthest possible from anything she’d expected.
Joyce clearly notices her looking. “What?” she asks. Is her voice shy?
“Oh, no, I just- my mom raises hell if she so much as sees someone with a cigarette.”
“Jonathan tells me it’s a bad habit,” she says, around a mouthful of smoke, glancing at him playfully. “But apparently I’m a ‘cool mom’, so.”
“Cooler than mine,” Robin mutters, and flushes when she catches Steve’s raised eyebrows. What, dingus? She mouths. Joyce is cool. Cooler than Steve, for sure.
At least the awkwardness has been alleviated. They finish their breakfast with scattered, harmonious conversation, and when she offers to wash up Joyce waves her away. “Nonsense, you’re a guest,” she says. Then Steve tugs Robin aside.
“Okay, what is going on?”
She frowns. “What, just because I’m being polite you think something’s up?”
“Uh, yeah? You’ve only called me dingus once today, what’s up with that?”
“Steve-” She sighs. His face is still a wreck, still puffy and bruised. “I get that all this is normal for you, but for me? I’m just the weird band kid who speaks a ton of languages. I don’t go portal-hopping or whatever on my days off. So what happened last night-”
“I’m sorry,” he interrupts. “I shouldn’t have dragged you into all this.”
She stares at him. “Dragged me in? Steve, this is the most fun I’ve had in years. Last night- well, it was a shock, sure, but when I got home all I wanted to do was go back and be around everyone again. My parents suck. These people-” she gestures to the house around her “-they don’t suck.”
“Really?” He seems genuinely surprised. “So you- you don’t wanna go home?”
She rolls her eyes. “Okay, now you really are being a dingus. Of course not. Dingus.”
He smirks, and just like that their balance is back.
They’re interrupted by the arrival of Hopper and El. Joyce rushes over to them like it’s been years, not hours, and by the way she lingers over Hopper Robin can tell there’s something more there. They’ve brought supplies - more food, what looks like a fuckton of food, and fireworks aplenty - the latter of which Joyce inspects with a wrinkled nose.
“Fireworks, Hopper? Really?”
“Uh huh,” he says. “Can’t have July Fourth without fireworks, and we missed it yesterday.”
“We didn’t,” Nancy says. “We had loads of fireworks.” She smirks a little.
“I mean fireworks that aren’t in aid of defeating some disgusting flesh monster,” Hopper retorts. “Proper fireworks. I bet you kids don’t even know how to light ‘em properly.”
Joyce makes a sceptical look and takes his arm, guiding him away from them. “I wouldn’t test them,” Robin hears her whisper as they round the corner.
“So there really is a party?” Steve asks.
“Yep,” Nancy responds. “You were just about four hours early.”
“Dustin, you asshole,” he mumbles under his breath, again. But Robin doesn’t really care, because this is miles better than what she’d have done instead.
“So, Byers,” she says, before she can lose her nerve, and his eyes snap to hers more than a little apprehensively. “I heard you have good music taste.”
“Depends what you consider good,” he says, and gives a nervous laugh.
“The Cure, The Smiths, Siouxsie and the Banshees,” she drops, offhand.
“Really?” Steve says, eyebrows climbing. “If I didn’t already think you were pretentious-”
“Well I guess I have good music taste, then,” Jonathan interrupts, ignoring Steve entirely. He has the same shy smile as Joyce does, Robin notes.
“Do you have any of their records?” she asks. She’s dying to touch a Siouxsie vinyl.
He shakes his head. “Just cassettes. We don’t even have a record player. Mom says Hopper does and I’ve been trying to borrow it, but he says I’ll ‘ruin it’ with ‘bad music’.” His fingers make air quotes as he speaks and she finds herself laughing along.
“Well, I’ve got a record player but nothing really to play on it. I’m gonna try and get a job at the music store, now Scoops is probably closed. I hear it does a great staff discount.”
He nods, eyes alight with interest. “What about the Talking Heads?”
“Yes, I love them!” Robin grins. “Actually, that’s one record I do have. If you wanted to come over- listen to it sometime-”
Jonathan suddenly looks uncomfortable. Nancy presses closer to his side, and it occurs to her that they think she’s hitting on him. Which only makes her want to laugh, because in what universe?
“Oh, I’m not hitting on you. I promise.”
“Really, she’s not,” Steve supplies, with what he probably thinks is a helpful smile. It’s not.
“Steve-” she starts, but Nancy interrupts her.
“Are you two dating?” she asks, and Robin groans.
“No, no. Absolutely not. No.”
Steve has the gall to look offended, while Jonathan looks on with a vague smile. “Sure, I’d love to listen to the Talking Heads with you. You know, in a non-romantic, non-sexual way.” He glances at Nancy as if asking how did I do and she bursts out laughing.
“What… just happened,” Steve says, sounding utterly lost.
“The music snobs are multiplying,” Nancy says in a stage whisper. Jonathan swats at her playfully and Robin has really, truly, never felt like she belongs anywhere more than she does right now.