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Family Video was quiet in the way it only ever got right before closing.
Not peaceful, exactly. The fluorescent lights still buzzed overhead. The air still smelled like dust, plastic cases, and the faint buttery ghost of microwave popcorn Steve swore had been banned after the incident with the break room outlet. Somewhere behind the counter, the return bin sat half-full and accusing, a leaning tower of badly rewound tapes.
Will Byers stood in front of the new releases with a stack of VHS cases braced against his chest, carefully sliding them back into place.
Robin Buckley watched him from the counter like a general overseeing a delicate military operation.
“Not there,” she said.
Will paused with The Thing halfway onto the shelf. “It starts with T.”
“Yeah, but we agreed to ignore ‘the’ because otherwise half the horror section becomes an alphabetized nightmare.”
Will looked down at the tape, then back at her. “Isn’t that kind of fitting?”
Robin pointed at him. “Do not get clever with me, Byers. I’m very fragile today.”
The door to the back room swung open before Will could answer, and Steve Harrington emerged carrying a cardboard box of candy under one arm. His hair was slightly mussed, his vest wrinkled at the shoulder, and he had the exhausted look of someone who had spent the last ten minutes losing a fight with inventory.
He stopped when he saw them.
Will, focused and serious.
Robin, hovering like she had personally appointed herself supervisor of the entire operation.
Steve’s mouth twitched.
“So,” he said, drawing the word out, “you got yourself a teen sidekick.”
Robin’s head snapped toward him so fast Will was honestly surprised her neck didn’t crack.
“Teen sidekick?” she repeated, deeply offended.
Steve set the candy box on the counter.
“Yeah. Look at him. He’s tiny, he’s helpful, he’s got tragic backstory energy—”
“Hey,” Will said, though he wasn’t really sure which part he was objecting to.
Robin cut in before he could decide.
“Bitch, please,” she said, planting one hand dramatically against her chest. “I’m his adult sidekick. After all, my name is Robin.”
For a second, the store went quiet.
Will blinked.
Then he looked between them, expression turning thoughtful in that very Will way, like he had just been handed a puzzle piece and needed to figure out where it fit.
“Wait,” he said slowly. “Does that make me Batman?”
Robin’s entire face lit up.
“Yes,” she said, pointing at him with both hands. “Exactly. Thank you. Finally, someone in this building understands narrative structure.”
Steve stared at them.
“No,” he said.
Robin ignored him. “You’ve got the brooding. You’ve got the trauma. You’ve got the whole quiet, mysterious thing going on.”
“I’m not mysterious,” Will said, but he sounded more amused than defensive.
“You once disappeared into another dimension and came back with wizard-boy energy,” Robin said. “That’s mysterious.”
Steve folded his arms. “Okay, first of all, Batman is intimidating.”
Robin glanced at Will.
Will glanced back.
They both looked at Steve.
Steve sighed. “Fine. Bad example.”
Will ducked his head, smiling at the floor, and Steve’s expression softened for half a second before he remembered he was supposed to be arguing.
“But Batman is also rich,” Steve added. “So unless Byers has been hiding a mansion somewhere—”
“Castle Byers,” Will said.
Robin gasped. “Oh my God. He has a cave.”
Steve pointed at him. “That was a fort.”
“All Batcaves start somewhere,” Robin said solemnly.
Will slid The Thing into the correct place and tried very hard not to laugh. It didn’t work. The sound slipped out of him, quiet and surprised, like he hadn’t meant to let anyone hear it.
Steve heard it anyway.
So did Robin.
Neither of them said anything about it.
Steve leaned against the counter, shaking his head. “This is insane. I leave you two alone for five minutes and suddenly there’s lore.”
“There was always lore,” Robin said. “You just don’t pay attention unless there’s hair product or danger involved.”
“That is completely unfair.”
“You once missed an entire coded Russian transmission because you were arguing with a ten-year-old about Dustin’s ego.”
Steve opened his mouth.
Closed it.
“That kid’s ego is a national security threat,” he said finally.
Will nodded, completely serious. “That’s fair.”
Robin gave him an approving look. “See? Batman gets it.”
“Stop calling him Batman.”
“You called him my sidekick first.”
“Yeah, and that made sense.”
“How?”
Steve gestured at Will. “Because he’s younger.”
Robin stared at him. “That’s your whole argument?”
“It’s a strong argument.”
“It’s barely an argument. It’s an age statistic wearing a trench coat.”
Will had to press his lips together.
Steve caught it and narrowed his eyes. “Don’t encourage her.”
“I’m not,” Will said.
“You’re smiling.”
“I can smile quietly.”
Robin nodded. “Very Batman of him.”
Steve groaned and dragged both hands down his face. “I hate this. I hate that this is happening.”
“No, you don’t,” Robin said, already turning back toward the shelves. “You love having a role in a team dynamic.”
Steve perked up despite himself. “What role?”
Robin didn’t even hesitate. “Alfred.”
“No.”
Will looked over his shoulder. “Actually…”
Steve pointed at him. “Do not.”
“You do drive everyone around,” Will said.
Robin started counting on her fingers. “You provide snacks.”
“You worry a lot,” Will added.
“You give weirdly emotional speeches in cars,” Robin said.
“And you tell people not to do dangerous things right before doing dangerous things,” Will finished.
Steve stared at him like he had been personally betrayed.
Will’s smile widened.
Robin clapped once. “Oh, he’s good.”
Steve picked up a pack of Red Vines from the candy box and pointed it at them like a weapon. “For the record, Alfred is old.”
“Emotionally,” Robin said, “so are you.”
“I am nineteen.”
“And yet spiritually, you are a divorced dad at a barbecue.”
Will made a noise that was almost a laugh and almost a cough.
Steve looked at him. “Wow. Okay. I see how it is. You come into my place of employment, take my best friend—”
“I’m standing right here,” Robin said.
“—turn her against me—”
“I was already against you.”
“—and now suddenly I’m the butler?”
Will shifted the remaining tapes in his arms, more comfortable now, the tension that had been sitting in his shoulders when he first arrived slowly loosening.
“You could be Commissioner Gordon,” he offered.
Steve considered that.
Robin made a face. “No. Absolutely not. Hopper is Commissioner Gordon.”
Will nodded. “Yeah, Hopper is definitely Gordon.”
Steve deflated. “Okay, fine, but I’m not Alfred.”
Robin took a tape from Will’s stack and slid it onto the shelf. “You are so Alfred.”
“I have great hair.”
“Alfred can have great hair.”
“Alfred does not have this hair.”
“No one has that hair, Steve,” Robin said. “That’s because your hair is less a hairstyle and more a local legend.”
Will smiled down at the tapes again, warmth blooming in his chest before he could stop it.
It was stupid. It was just joking. Just Steve and Robin bickering under the too-bright lights of a video store where nothing supernatural was currently trying to kill them.
But that was exactly why it mattered.
For once, nobody was whispering about the Upside Down. Nobody was watching the walls. Nobody was looking at him like he might break apart if they spoke too loudly.
Robin bumped his shoulder with hers.
“Come on, Batman,” she said. “Let’s fix the horror section before Alfred has a crisis.”
Steve threw his hands up. “I am one insult away from making both of you rewind every tape in the return bin.”
Robin gasped. “Cruel. Unusual. Deeply anti-heroic.”
Will glanced at the bin and winced. “That’s a lot of tapes.”
“Yeah,” Steve said, trying to sound stern and mostly failing. “Fear me.”
Robin leaned closer to Will and whispered loudly, “He thinks that’s his Batman voice.”
“I heard that.”
“You were meant to.”
Will laughed again, properly this time.
Steve’s annoyed expression cracked at the edges. Robin pretended not to notice, but Will saw the way her smile softened before she turned back to the shelves.
Outside, the sky had gone dusky blue, the windows reflecting the three of them back in faint, ghostly shapes: Steve behind the counter with his candy box, Robin sorting tapes with unnecessary intensity, and Will standing between them with A Nightmare on Elm Street in his hands, feeling, for one rare moment, like the world could be ridiculous without being cruel.
Steve cleared his throat.
“Fine,” he said. “But if he’s Batman and you’re Robin, then I’m Superman.”
Robin and Will answered at the exact same time.
“No.”
Steve stared. “Wow.”
Robin didn’t even look sorry.
Will slid the last tape into place and glanced at him, trying for serious and not quite managing it.
“Maybe Aquaman?”
Steve’s face fell.
Robin slapped a hand over her mouth.
“Oh, now that,” she said, voice shaking, “that was vicious.”
Steve pointed at Will again. “You know what? Batman’s grounded.”
Will blinked. “Can Batman be grounded?”
Robin smiled sweetly. “Only by Alfred.”
Steve groaned.
And this time, Will didn’t bother hiding his laugh.