Archive of Our Own

Robin lay in the dark in Steve Harrington’s bed, the sheets tangled between her thighs, the air still thick with their perfume and sweat. Moonlight filtered faintly through the blinds, just enough to let her see the contours of Steve’s face as he leaned over her. His eyes almost glowed in the dimness, gentleness mixed with raw desire, making Robin’s stomach clench.
Steve’s fingers slowly traced her cheek, then slid down her neck where her pulse hammered wildly. He leaned in, their lips brushing at first, soft, testing. But Robin didn’t want testing. She opened her mouth, tongue seeking his, and the kiss deepened instantly, hungry and urgent. She tasted him, mint toothpaste, something faintly salty, and that warm, masculine scent that made her lower belly tighten immediately. Steve growled low into her mouth, one hand cupping the back of her neck to pull her closer, while the other slipped under her shirt, hot palm gliding over her stomach, then higher, right beneath her breasts.
Robin’s back arched when Steve’s thumb finally brushed one nipple, hard, sensitive, and the slow circles he drew around it made pleasure almost hurt. He pulled away from her mouth just to kiss her neck, then lower, along her collarbone, finally reaching her breast. He took one nipple into his mouth, tongue circling, then gently bit, not hard, just enough to make Robin gasp and instinctively thread her fingers through his hair, tugging him closer. His other hand massaged her second breast, fingers rolling the nipple between them while Robin’s body trembled with arousal.
“Steve…” she whispered his name, almost pleading, and felt him smile against her skin.
Steve moved lower, leaving kisses across her stomach, her navel, until he paused at the waistband of her panties. Robin’s breath hitched as his fingers hooked into the elastic and slowly tugged them down. Cool air hit her hot, wet skin, shame and desire flooding her at once.
Steve didn’t rush. First he just looked, his gaze almost tangible between her thighs, where she was already glistening. Then he leaned in, and the first touch was his tongue, slow, long lick along her folds, then up to her clit. Robin’s hips jerked, a soft cry escaping her. Steve’s hands settled on her thighs, spreading them wider, and now he wasn’t gentle: tongue circling her clit firmly, then sucking, while two fingers slowly slid inside her.
Robin’s head fell back against the pillow. She felt his fingers fill her, sliding in and out slowly, then curling to find that spot inside that made her see stars. His tongue never stopped, quick, precise circles, long licks, then sucking again. Robin’s thighs trembled, her lower belly burned, and she felt something massive building.
But Steve didn’t let her come yet. He looked up, lips shiny with her wetness, and gave her that damn confident, sweet smile. He crawled up, pants already discarded earlier, and now his hard cock rested hot and heavy between her thighs, the tip sliding along her slick folds but not entering yet.
“Say it,” he rasped, rocking his hips gently against her. “Say you want it.”
Robin’s eyes were teary with need.
“I want you… I want you to take me, Steve. Please.”
Steve’s eyes darkened. Slowly, deeply, he pushed inside, inch by inch, letting her feel every bit as he filled her, her walls clenching tight around him. When he was fully seated, he paused, forehead pressed to hers, and they just breathed together.
Then he started moving, slow at first, deep, pulling almost all the way out before sliding back in fully. Robin’s nails dug into his back, legs wrapping around his waist, soft moans escaping with every thrust. Steve grew faster, harder, hips snapping against hers, balls slapping her ass with each stroke. Robin felt his cock hit that perfect spot inside over and over, pleasure building almost painfully. Steve’s hand slid between them, fingers circling her clit quickly while he kept thrusting deep.
“Come for me, Robin,” he growled, voice rough and commanding. “Come on my cock.”
And Robin did. Her body locked up, inner walls spasming wildly around him, orgasm crashing through her in waves so intense her voice failed, she just opened her mouth silently, thighs shaking, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes. Steve gave a few more hard thrusts, then buried himself deep and came, hot, pulsing spurts filling her, and Robin felt every twitch as he emptied himself inside her.

*What the fuck? What the fuck? What the fuck? What the fuck? What the fuck?*
Robin shot upright in her own bed like a spring. She was drenched in sweat, heart hammering, breath coming in gasps, and between her thighs a pleasant but insistent ache that made no sense.
*No. This can’t happen.*
But it had. She’d dreamed of Steve, and it wasn’t innocent. It was sinful, intense, and so arousing that she felt an odd emptiness between her legs. But the worst part… in the dream, she had wanted him. She’d watched his lips mesmerized, eagerly waited for his kiss, begged for more. It wasn’t just sex. If it had been only sex, it would have been simpler.
Robin touched her lips in the darkness of her room. Of course they weren’t swollen, no soreness where he’d bitten her gently in the dream, like he wanted to give pleasure and punish at the same time. Yet for Robin, that was already punishment enough.
She couldn’t want Steve. He was her best friend. And anyway, he was a guy…
*So why did kissing him feel so right? Why did letting him take her feel so perfect?*
The thought sent a shiver through her. Robin wanted to slam her head against the wall. She wanted him here so badly, wanted him to touch her, calm her… maybe do everything he’d done in the dream.
She fell back onto the pillow. Thank God she wasn’t sleeping at Steve’s tonight. No idea if she could have held back.
She sighed deeply as she felt the insistent throb between her thighs. Her body begged for relief. Robin had never been good at this. She’d tried before, but never managed to push herself over the edge. But she’d never been this worked up either.
With a sigh and a small pang of betrayal toward her best friend, her hand slipped under the blanket while she replayed the dream details: Steve’s sculpted chest, the gentleness and confidence in his eyes as he leaned over her, his lips everywhere, on her mouth, her neck, her breasts, the insides of her thighs, and between her legs.
She pushed her panties aside and started touching herself. She’d never been turned on by the idea of a cock inside her, but now she felt emptiness there even though she was still a virgin.
Her fingers found her instantly soaked, far wetter than ever before. Her lips were swollen, hot, and when her fingertips slid over them, a soft, involuntary moan escaped.
She started slowly, circling her clit the way Steve’s tongue had in the dream. She imagined him looking up at her from between her legs, that dark, hungry gaze, lips shiny with her wetness.
“Steve…” she whispered his name into the dark, almost ashamed, but unable to stop.
She slid two fingers inside, first just the tips, then deeper. She felt her walls clench tight around them, hot and slick. She moved them in and out, slowly at first, then faster, thumb rubbing her clit exactly the way Steve’s fingers would have.
Her other hand cupped her breast, pinching the nipple and tugging gently the way he’d bitten in the dream.
Her breathing grew ragged. Her hips lifted instinctively toward her hand, demanding more. She imagined Steve above her, his weight pressing her down, cock deep inside, hitting her cervix with every thrust. She imagined his hoarse voice: “Come for me, Robin. Come on my cock.”
And something snapped.
Her body bowed like a drawn bow. Thighs clamped together, fingers buried deep, thumb still circling frantically. The orgasm came quietly.
For long seconds she just panted, motionless, hand still between her legs, fingers glistening. Her body slowly relaxed, but aftershocks kept trembling through her thighs for minutes. Tears slipped from the corners of her eyes,not from pain, but from the overwhelming feeling she’d never managed to give herself before.
Robin slowly withdrew her fingers and stared at the ceiling. Her chest still heaved. Between her thighs the warm, sticky sensation was no longer just desire, it was proof: her body could do this. Thinking of Steve. Of the dream. Of his imagined touch.
And it was the sweetest and most terrifying thing she’d ever felt.
She swallowed hard, rolled onto her side, pulled the blanket up to her chin, and tried to convince herself it was just one night. That tomorrow it would fade.
But deep down, she knew it wouldn’t.

Robin stepped into Family Video at 10 a.m. like someone dragging her to the dentist. She’d even considered calling in sick just to avoid seeing Steve. But she knew damn well that if Steve thought she was ill, he’d show up at her door with soup and concern. And Steve in her bedroom… no, she didn’t need that kind of temptation today. Better to survive the day under the neon lights with him.
She only needed to follow a few simple rules so he wouldn’t notice anything:

1. Don’t stare.
2. Don’t stare at his eyes.
3. And for God’s sake, don’t stare at his mouth.
4. Don’t stand too close.
5. Don’t say his name, “dream,” and “sex” in the same sentence.
6. Start talking about avant-garde art—that’s guaranteed safe territory.

Of course, after last night’s “incident,” she hadn’t slept at all. Her thoughts spun wildly. Question after question.
*Wanting Steve: what does that make me? Do I actually like him now? Or is it just a phase? I can’t tell him. I can’t break his heart if it turns out to be nothing but a flash in the pan. Would any other guy turn me on like this?*

She had no answers to any of them. In the end she convinced herself that time would sort it out. She didn’t have to deal with these questions right now, just act normal until the feelings faded. Because they would fade. She would never sacrifice her best friendship on the altar of desire. Never.
Robin took her place behind the register, elbows on the counter, staring out through the glass walls at passing people. She half-heard rustling from the back room. Her body tensed instantly, not from danger in the Upside Down sense, but from the other kind: *if you’re not careful, you’ll ruin the best thing that ever happened to you.*
She knew Steve was already there; she’d seen his BMW in the parking lot. She let out one single, shaky, longing sigh, the only one she’d allow herself all day, as she heard his footsteps approaching from the back, carrying a box.
“Oh, hey, morning, Robs,” he smiled, setting the box on the counter.
“Morning, Harrington,” she tried to smile back.
*Okay, see? You did it. It’s not that hard to act normal. You’ve got this.*
“Everything okay?” Steve leaned in a little, eyebrows slightly furrowed. The smell of his cologne and shampoo mixed with that unique Steve-scent invaded her personal space and filled it completely. Robin’s heart launched into a wild gallop in her chest. She stepped back like she was choking, earning another confused look from him.
“Upset stomach,” she blurted, the first thing that came to mind and mentally high-fived herself for thinking so fast. She gestured vaguely at his whole body. “Your cloud of cologne is doing backflips in my gut, sorry.”
*Technically not a lie,* she thought.
Steve studied her for a second, then shrugged. Thank God he was so simple sometimes.
“Ladies go crazy for this scent,” he said, pulling out a dozen tapes and heading to the shelves.
Normally she would have rolled her eyes, but today she couldn’t, because now she was one of those “ladies.” She let out a snort.
*How pathetic.*
Luckily Steve brushed off the snort like always.
She’d only been there twenty minutes and she was already staring. The way he furrowed his brow at an empty case he pulled from the shelf. The way his shirt rode up when he reached to put a box on the top shelf, flashing his abs. Robin tore her eyes away.
*What the hell is wrong with me?*
“You sure you’re okay, Robs?” Steve asked again, worried, but he didn’t step closer this time. “If you want I can tell Keith you’re not feeling well. Then after shift I can come over, we’ll watch a movie. Just the two of us.”
He said it kindly, completely innocently but Robin’s brain heard it like a death threat.
“NO!” she blurted, too loud. Steve looked at her like she’d lost her mind.
“No,” she repeated more calmly. “Just… keep yourself and all your bullshit on that side of the store and I’ll be fine.”
“My bullshit?” He tilted his head slightly, one longer strand of hair falling free. Robin thought, not for the first time, that the dream hadn’t been entirely accurate. In real life her fingers would spend a lot more time in his hair during kisses.
*Which is never going to happen,* she reminded herself.
“Yeah. Like your cologne. And your arms.”
Oh God. She actually said “arms”?
“Sorry, did you just say my arms?” He raised an eyebrow. Okay, she was done for.
“Yeah. They’re sweaty. I mean, really sweaty,” she said quickly.
“Hey,” Steve protested, “they’re not sweaty.”
“Oh, whatever,” Robin turned away. “Just don’t come near me.”
“Okay, fine,” Steve surrendered and retreated to the shelves. “Sorry for existing,” he muttered.
Robin sighed in defeat.
“Oh, if only you knew, Dingus,” she whispered, but the soft music swallowed the words.

Steve spent his lunch break out in town so he wouldn’t make Robin’s “stomach” any worse. She should have been relieved he bought the lie so easily. But sitting alone in the empty store, she wished he hadn’t left. Sure, her weirder-than-usual behavior meant they hadn’t talked much, but at least he’d been there. His presence filled the space even when he was silent.
Robin spun in the chair. No appetite at all.
While Steve was around she only had to deal with the stupid sexual tension. Now that the “immediate threat” was gone, only the feelings remained. Feelings that made no sense.
She’d felt that pleasant little shiver for a while now, when Steve complimented her hair or laughed at one of her perfectly timed jokes. But she’d thought it was normal. No one had ever been this close to her before, so she assumed it was just… friendship. Innocent.
She wasn’t sure anymore.
Steve’s return snapped her out of her thoughts. He set a brown paper bag on the counter in front of her.
“Here,” he said, pulling out a box of soluble stomach powder. “Just in case it helps.”
Robin took the box and gave a faint smile. Steve had spent his lunch break going to the pharmacy to fix a pain that didn’t even exist. And now she’d have to drink at least one of these probably disgusting powders.
“Thanks, Steve. That’s… really sweet of you.”
He smiled softly and brushed her arm.
“Anything for you, Robs,” he said gently, giving her hand one last squeeze before stepping back.
Robin stared at the box for a long moment. The touch hadn’t made her hornier, it had slammed her stupid heart straight back to earth. Why now? Why like this? Why him? Why not some other guy she could experiment with without destroying everything?
*Because no one else is Steve…* a small voice whispered in her head. And she knew it was right.
As she went to the back room to boil water for the drink, that thought looped in her mind. She’d never met anyone like Steve. In high school she’d thought he was just another asshole jock. Maybe he had been. But now… now that boy was gone. In his place stood a brave, caring man who did whatever it took to help, no hesitation. If he thought something would make an uncomfortable situation better, he just did it.
When she returned to the counter with her steaming mug, she felt Steve’s eyes on her. She glanced up, lifted the cup in a silent toast, and mouthed another thank you. He probably couldn’t hear it, but he read her lips, he gave a small nod and turned back to the tapes.
That selfless care… it was so deeply part of who he was. He never expected anything in return, never even mentioned it. How was she supposed to protect her heart from that?
The bell above the door jingled. Robin looked away from Steve to see who’d come in, and let out a tired sigh.
It was Vickie.
But the butterflies didn’t come. They’d quietly defected to Team Steve a while ago, though Robin still refused to admit it.
Steve cleared his throat from the aisles to catch her attention, then mouthed: *Showtime.*
Robin gave a fake smile and nodded.
“Hi, Robin,” Vickie said, stepping to the counter and setting down a tape.
“Hi, Vickie,” Robin replied, voice completely natural. A few months ago she would have killed for this kind of calm around the girl. Now she didn’t have to pretend not to care, she genuinely didn’t. She just wanted that quiet, peaceful atmosphere back that had filled the store earlier.
“I brought this back,” Vickie said, sliding the tape over, “and I’d like to rent something for tonight. Any recommendations?”
Robin shrugged.
“You can’t go wrong with The Breakfast Club. Your boyfriend will probably like it too,” she added, not even sure why.
Vickie laughed awkwardly.
“We broke up. You know… distance and stuff.”
“Oh. Sorry… but don’t worry. There’ll be someone else.”
Robin scanned the returned tape while Vickie drummed nervously on the counter, then forced a smile.
“You know what? I think I’ll just go to the movies tonight. Yeah, movies. So… no need for anything.”
Robin glanced up.
“Whatever you want. Movies are cool.”
“Yeah, cool. So… see you around, I guess.”
“I guess.”
Robin turned back to the register as it beeped an error message.
After Vickie left, Steve emerged from the aisles with an incredulous look.
“What the hell, Buckley?”
Robin kept staring at the monitor.
“You told me to act like I didn’t care.”
Steve snorted.
“Yeah, but there’s a difference between acting like you don’t care and actually not caring. And you were the second one.”
Robin whipped her head around, irritated.
“So what? What if I really don’t care anymore?”
She shrugged.
“You’ve been talking about her nonstop for months,” Steve argued.
“And? Yeah, I liked her. Cute girl and all, but… no depth.”
Her voice trailed off quietly at the end.
“No depth?” Steve repeated, tasting the words.
Robin nodded.
“You sure that’s all?” His voice softened. “Because lately it feels like you’re… somewhere else.”
Robin saw his hand start to rise to take hers, the usual friendly gesture they’d done a thousand times. But now she panicked. She snatched her hand away before he could reach it.
Too obvious. Far too obvious. Another strange look from Steve.
*Don’t touch me, Steve. I’m falling apart here, can’t you see?* she thought as she turned away.

Steve watched Robin from the aisles. Something was definitely wrong. She was avoiding him. Pulling away when he got close. And his arms definitely weren’t sweaty. Not even a little.
*She’s acting like—*
NO. Steve wouldn’t even finish the thought in his head. He respected Robin. Everything else was secondary.
A voice in his mind, probably his conscience, laughed loudly and mockingly.
*Respect, huh?*
Shame washed over him for a second as memories from a couple nights ago crept in:
Steve Harrington sat in his living room, the lamp casting soft shadows on the walls while the TV flickered with an old porno. His parents were away for the weekend, the house empty, and he needed release. His cock was already half-hard in anticipation as he leaned back on the couch, pants shoved down. His hand moved slowly, following the women on screen who moaned and writhed in some clichéd script.
But nothing. It throbbed but wouldn’t get fully hard. Steve cursed under his breath, turned off the TV, and pulled out one of his porn magazines from under the table, glossy pages full of strangers posing, spreading, showing everything. His fingers traced the images, imagining one of them kneeling in front of him, taking him in her mouth, tongue swirling around the head. He tried to pump himself faster, gripping tighter, stroking the shaft, but the arousal only flickered and died.
“Fuck,” he muttered, tossing the magazine aside.
His body just wouldn’t respond. Something was blocking it.
His thoughts drifted, and suddenly Robin’s face flashed in his mind.
*No, come on,* he thought, but the protest was weak. What harm could there be in thinking about her for just a second?
Her eyes, those big, expressive eyes always full of intelligence and a little mischief. Her smile, so contagious he always smiled back no matter what. Her laugh, that loud, honest cackle that filled the store and made his stomach flip every time.
But the thoughts didn’t stop there. They slid lower, to her body, the slim lines, the curve of her hips in those jeans, her breasts pressing against her shirt when she laughed. He remembered stolen moments at work when she bent too low for a box and her shirt gaped, showing the edge of her bra, the smooth skin beneath. Sometimes he didn’t look away right away, sometimes he let his eyes linger a second longer, imagining what it would feel like to touch, to run his palms over those curves.
His cock twitched. It started to harden in his hand, the head swelling, pre-cum beading at the tip. Steve groaned and stroked faster-up and down the shaft, thumb circling the head. He imagined Robin standing in front of him, bending over so her breasts nearly spilled out of her shirt. Imagined her pulling it off, revealing hard nipples, and him taking one into his mouth, sucking, biting gently while she whispered his name.
But it still wasn’t enough. His body strained, cock fully hard now, throbbing in his grip, but he hovered right on the edge without tipping over. He panted, sweated, his rational mind screaming to stop because Robin was his best friend, this was wrong. But the need was stronger.
He got up with difficulty and went to his room, opened the drawer where he kept that photo. He’d taken it at a town event when she wasn’t looking, Robin laughing at something, hair blowing in the wind, dress clinging to her body, outlining every line. Steve lay back on the bed, photo in one hand, and gave up holding back.
He looked at the picture while his hand moved again. Imagined Robin there with him, that same laughing smile, but naked. Imagined her kneeling over him, pussy wet and hot, slowly sinking down onto his cock, taking him in completely. He stroked faster, palm slick with pre-cum, other hand caressing the photo like it was her cheek. “Robin… fuck, Robin,” he muttered, hips bucking as if thrusting up into her. Imagined her tight heat gripping him, walls fluttering, wetness dripping down his balls. Imagined her riding him, breasts bouncing, eyes closing in pleasure as she cried his name when she came.
That did it. His body locked up, cock jerking in his hand, hot spurts of cum shooting across his stomach and chest while he groaned loudly, clutching the photo. Waves rolled through him, thighs shaking, breath ragged until he finally relaxed, cum sticky and warm on his skin.
Steve stared at the ceiling, set the photo aside, and let out a deep sigh, trying to push down the guilt.
*Just this once,* he thought.
*It won’t happen again.*
But deep down he knew he was lying to himself.

Steve felt his jeans getting too tight again. Great. He tried to distract himself, he was at work, after all. He started rearranging tapes like the fate of the world depended on it. He really needed to get over Robin emotionally. Maybe then he’d stop thinking about her all the time. Stop wishing she was with him. Stop wanting her to want him the way he wanted her: completely, possessively.
Steve shook his head. He definitely had serious problems up there.
But he couldn’t stop himself. He wanted more. More moments together, more of Robin. Closing time wasn’t far off. Robin was already balancing the register. Steve headed to the counter, trying to play it cool.
*Come on, it’s just Robin.*
And that was exactly the problem. She had never been “just” Robin. She was the perfect woman for him. Except for that tiny detail that she could never be his.
But even so, he couldn’t tear down this connection. Even if it ate away at his heart a little more every day. He knew going on dates every Friday was pointless. Useless as long as he kept searching for her in every girl’s smile. He’d thought that after all this time he’d learn how to “not love” her, but just like you can’t force love, you can’t force it away either.
“I’ll drive you home,” he said casually.
“No need, Steve, really,” Robin protested immediately as they walked out together and locked up.
“Robs, that wasn’t a question. You’re in pain, you’re not walking.”
She didn’t argue anymore, just got in his car.
They were quiet. Steve knew something was wrong. In all the time he’d known Robin, she’d gone quiet maybe twice, and both times Russians were involved.
At a red light, Steve glanced sideways. Robin’s head rested against the window. He wanted so badly to take her hand, but after what happened at the store, he wasn’t sure she’d let him.
“Hey,” he asked softly as the car started moving again. “What are you thinking about?”
Real worry colored his voice. It was eating at him that Robin wasn’t telling him something.
“Avant-garde,” she mumbled tiredly, but with a tiny smile.
Steve nodded.
“Well… I didn’t see that coming.” Then, “But if I’m honest, I prefer Impressionism.”
He said it like he knew what he was talking about. In reality? He remembered the word from a late-night documentary he’d fallen asleep to. But it worked.
Robin laughed in disbelief.
“You do realize that’s super basic, Harrington?”
She was smiling now and turned toward him.
He actually had no idea. He didn’t even know what he was saying.
“Maybe, but… I like the pretty colorful pictures.”
Robin laughed louder. Maybe Impressionism just meant pretty colorful pictures to Steve, but Robin’s laugh meant everything to him. That was his luck. By the time he’d lightened the mood in the car, they’d arrived.
He turned off the engine and shifted to face her fully.
“You know you can tell me anything, right?” he asked seriously.
Robin nodded. She didn’t immediately get out, he took that as a good sign.
“If it’s something about me, if I did or said something by accident…” He was probing gently. Robin shook her head, and for the first time that day she took his hand where it rested between their seats.
“No, no! It’s not you, really. I’m just… tired. That’s all, Steve.”
Steve looked down at their joined hands and sighed.
“Just so you know, I don’t totally believe you, but I’m not going to push. I hope you know you can count on me for anything.” Robin could have cried looking into Steve’s gentle, dark brown eyes. They were so expressive, so full of love. Love she thought she could never return, and yet she desperately tried to drag out the moment of goodbye.
Neither of their parents were home; usually they’d sleep over at each other’s place. Robin had stayed at Steve’s more nights than was probably appropriate, but that had changed a few weeks ago. They both knew Robin was the one who’d quietly drawn a line. She canceled plans or asked him to drive her home after movies. Steve had found it strange at first, asked if she was sure, even prepared the guest room, but after repeated no’s he stopped asking.
She knew it was dangerous to invite him in with these feelings she couldn’t, or wouldn’t name. But she didn’t want to go back to that empty house alone.
“Does the movie offer still stand?” she asked quietly.
Steve looked surprised, but the slow smile spreading across his face said he wasn’t going to say no.
“Yeah. Very much.”

Thank goodness Robin still had a spare pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt at Steve’s, he thought as he changed in the small bathroom. Much more comfortable for movie-watching and if, God forbid, his blood headed south, it would hide it better.
When he stepped into the living room, Robin was already on the couch, legs tucked under one of those overly patterned, oversized blankets they’d shared so many times. Steve sat beside her, trying not to sit too obviously far but not invasively close either.
“So—” Robin started, her voice vibrating with suppressed excitement. “The guy who likes Impressionism. Ready, Harrington?”
“You know I’m ready,” Steve shot back with his usual lazy half-smile, even though his stomach twisted. “Just hope it’s not some three-hour French drama where everyone watches grass grow.”
Robin snorted and reached for the remote.
“It’s not about grass, Steve. It’s about desire. About moments you can’t hold, only feel. This is *A Room with a View*. I’m going to show you what Impressionism looks like in practice.”
*I could show you a few things in practice…* flashed through Steve’s mind, and suddenly a not-very-Impressionist image of him and Robin appeared in his head. He mentally slapped himself. *No. You can’t be this horny right now.* He threw a blanket over his lap to hide the growing problem.
Robin tucked her legs under herself, her knee brushing Steve’s. He didn’t acknowledge it. He stared at the screen, trying to focus on the movie. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn’t. What he could tell was that the plot mirrored his own problem perfectly: hidden longing. But his longing couldn’t explode.
Robin’s legs stayed pressed against his the whole movie. It was innocent, just two legs touching at one point. Probably no one on Earth would read anything into it. But Steve wasn’t ordinary. Especially not after Robin got assigned to work with him at Scoops Ahoy.
At first she annoyed him because she mocked the version of himself he was trying to leave behind: King Steve. She kept score of his failed flirts, threw sarcastic comments at everything. And yet, even in that unspoken hostility, he couldn’t stop staring. The short, sandy hair that brushed her shoulders when she tilted her head, revealing the curve of her neck dotted with a few freckles. Those bright blue eyes that showed far more emotion than she realized.
Even then he couldn’t figure her out. She was his constant target for jabs, but when Steve’s old classmates came into the ice-cream shop and made comments about him, Robin dumped double scoops of peanuts on their tiny, ridiculous portions. Not the fresh peanuts from that morning’s batch, the stale ones hidden under the counter that had been sitting there for a week. Maybe she thought he didn’t notice, because she never said a word. Sometimes she was even kind, told him a joke or made a comment about a customer like they’d been friends for years. And Steve laughed. Honestly, truly laughed. Because Robin’s humor was as unique and unexpected as she was. He never knew what would come out of her mouth next.
He’d felt himself falling even then. Maybe that’s why he tried so desperately with other girls, why he always shut Dustin down when he brought up Robin. He didn’t want to get hurt like that again. Because if he started something with Robin, it wouldn’t be casual. He’d fall completely. He’d hand his heart over again.
But it happened anyway. And Robin couldn’t love him back. And the worst part? He couldn’t even blame her.
Still, it hurt. God, Tammy Thompson?! Steve still snorted when he thought about it. He never had anything serious against the girl, except when she tried to sing him one of her favorite songs, and he still couldn’t figure out which one it was supposed to be, because it didn’t sound like any of them. But Robin is special. He had no idea what she saw in that girl.
Steve didn’t even notice when the credits started rolling.
“Thanks for watching with me,” Robin said, stopping the tape. “I know it’s not really your style.”
Steve tried to play it cool.
“Don’t mention it. You know I’d do anything for you.”
His voice came out too soft. They looked at each other a second too long. Robin’s eyes searched his, lips slightly parted. Steve panicked and playfully shoved her shoulder, forcing cheer into his voice.
“Because we’re friends!!”
Robin’s eyebrows shot up. She nodded, then smiled too.
“Besties!!” she echoed, mimicking the shove.
The atmosphere shifted. Suddenly everything felt much more awkward.
“Buddy,” Steve countered. He couldn’t stop.
“Bro,” Robin replied awkwardly.
They both looked away at the same time. Robin sighed.
“Why… why is this so awkward right now?” Steve asked absently, not really expecting an answer.

Robin didn’t reply, just shrugged, still studying the blanket pattern. She knew exactly why it was awkward. The moment Steve said “friends,” she knew. She’d been telling herself for weeks that this was fine. That it was just a silly crush on her best friend, nothing more. But hearing him say it out loud, she suddenly panicked: what if there really never was anything more?
She wanted him. Wanted those secret touches but not just those. Mornings when his hair wasn’t styled yet because he just woke up, sleepy grumbles as he curled closer to her at dawn, holding his hand in public as they walked, going with him when he left for college… she wanted him to come with her. Always.
But would Steve still want that? He’d asked her out once before, sure, but would he still want her now? Now that he knew everything about her. Her habits, her humor, her overthinking. Maybe he was relieved nothing ever happened. Robin knew Steve cared about her, but she ruled out the possibility that she still moved his imagination as a woman. And could she blame him? No. She’d told him there was no chance.
Tears gathered in Robin’s eyes. How could she lose something she never had? She’d given it up before she even knew she wanted it. What kind of twisted universe made Steve Harrington, the one exception for a lesbian like Robin Buckley?
Her hair fell across her face, hiding the tears. She didn’t sob, she’d learned long ago how to cry quietly. She didn’t want Steve to see her cry. The morning lie had already been bad enough.
But when she heard him start explaining something about the movie, cheerfully like nothing happened, something inside her broke. She hated crying. Most people didn’t care about your problems anyway, and the rest just thought you were fishing for attention. Yet she couldn’t stop the emotions. The evening longing, the physical and emotional emptiness, the whole day at Family Video that felt like one long held breath, they all crashed down at once.

Steve went silent instantly and froze beside her.
He’d seen Robin cry before. After the Russians, they’d cried together. Back then she’d broken first while he tried to clean the wounds on his face and reduce the swelling around his eye in his bathroom. She hadn’t said anything, just brushed his arm, but then he couldn’t hold it either. They cried quietly together. Relief and bottled-up fear breaking free at the same time.
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Robin pulled herself together back then and gently pressed the wet cloth to his face. Her eyes sparkled with tears. “You look awful. You took every hit.”
“Yeah,” he whispered back. “But purple would’ve clashed with your blue eyes. Couldn’t let anyone look better than me.”
He joked gently, and it worked, Robin finally laughed.
“You’re such a Dingus,” she’d said then, full of affection.
But this crying was different. He could feel it.
He slowly brushed her hair from her face and tucked it behind her ear. Robin didn’t resist, but she wouldn’t look at him. His hand slid to her shoulder and pulled her against his chest. He felt her stiffen at first, but her fingers clutched his shirt. Like she wanted to be close but something forbade it.
Steve rubbed her back in slow, rhythmic circles until her posture softened. She buried her face in his neck and drew her legs up. He pulled her closer as the tears slowed, leaving only ragged breathing.
Robin had been acting strange for weeks, but today took the prize.
“Robs…” Steve started softly, not wanting to push. “Everything okay?”
She didn’t answer, just shook her head and burrowed deeper into his neck if that was possible. In that moment Steve didn’t care how intimate it was. He’d think about it later. Right now all that mattered was Robin being okay.
“Want to talk about it?” he asked carefully.
He felt her sigh against his neck. Warm breath raced down his skin, leaving goosebumps.
“You don’t have to. If this is what you need, we can stay like this as long as you want,” he offered, against his better judgment, because she and his stupid heart were completely wrecking him.
Robin’s grip on his shirt loosened, and a moment later she sat up. Steve’s neck felt cold where her head had rested. He couldn’t help thinking how perfectly she fit there.
He looked at her face. She stared fixedly at a spot on the carpet. Her eyes were still a little red.
“I lied,” she said finally, voice hoarse.
Steve waited, maybe she’d continue. She didn’t.
“I’m gonna need more info than that, Robs…”
He tried to keep his tone gentle, but he was starting to worry what she could have lied about.
“When did you lie?”
“Today. I lied today.” Robin sighed. “My stomach didn’t hurt.”
Steve nodded. That wasn’t exactly a massive betrayal.
“I’ve heard stranger things.”
But she shook her head.
“You’re not even curious why I had to go hermit mode among the tapes then?”
“Now that you mention it, that’s actually a really good question.”
Robin snorted briefly.
“You never ask the right things, Dingus…”
“So?” he pressed gently.
She narrowed her eyes a little but kept staring at the carpet. Those usually so expressive eyes were now full of mystery. It was strange to see Robin struggle for words. Usually the problem was getting her to stop talking.
She swallowed, opened her mouth, nothing came out. Tried again. Like something was blocking her brain from letting the words escape.
Steve was dying of curiosity now, this whole thing had him completely floored.
“Robin, you know you can trust me. You can tell me anything. I mean ANYTHING.”
She finally closed her eyes and just blurted it out.
“IthinkI’minlovewithyou.”
She said it fast, in one breath. Still wouldn’t look at him.
Steve froze. His eyes widened in shock. Robin gave a short, disbelieving laugh like she was hearing it for the first time too.
“You know, I read about this. They call it being an ‘exception.’ It doesn’t happen to everyone, and I never thought it would happen to me. And definitely not with you. No offense. It’s just… everything’s so confusing. These feelings are inside me and they’re so strong, so intense, I can’t be around you without wanting to touch you or just lean on you, and I thought it would pass, God I tried so hard to suppress it because it makes no sense, I already turned you down once and we’re such good friends anyway, but then you started creeping into my dreams too and oh believe me those weren’t innocent dreams even though I never thought about guys like that but then I woke up and you weren’t there and all I felt was how much I missed you and—”
“Robin.”
Steve’s voice cut through her rambling. Quiet but firm.
She stopped instantly like someone pressed a mute button. He waited for her to look at him. Nothing.
One or two minutes of tense silence passed.
“Look at me,” he said finally.
Robin shook her head.
“I don’t want to.”
Steve reached out, gently caught her chin between two fingers and turned her face toward him, firm but not rough. She didn’t resist. Their faces were only inches apart.
“Why didn’t you say anything sooner?”
Their eyes finally met.
Robin bit her lower lip.
“Because I thought it would pass.”
“But it didn’t.”
It wasn’t a question.
“No. And I had no idea what to do with so much feeling, Steve.”
Steve’s gaze dropped to her lips. He moved slowly giving her every chance to push him away if she wanted.Their breaths mingled, the air between them hot and thick with the tension they’d both carried for months. Robin didn’t push him away. She didn’t pull back. She just looked at him, eyes still shiny from tears, but now there was something else there too, something that had finally been given permission to breathe.
Steve’s fingers were still on her chin, but no longer holding firmly, just gently, like he was afraid too much pressure would break something fragile. His thumb slowly traced her lower lip, as if testing whether this was real.
Robin’s breath hitched. Her lips parted slightly, eyes fluttering closed for a second before opening again, and this time she didn’t avoid his gaze. Instead of pulling away, she leaned in, just a little, just enough to close the last of the distance.
The first touch was soft, almost hesitant. Steve’s lips only brushed hers, like he was still scared of asking too much. But Robin didn’t wait. Her hand rose, fingers clutching the front of his shirt, and she pulled him closer. The kiss deepened, slowly, surely, no rush, no desperation, just the long-suppressed longing finally allowed to surface.
Steve let out a low groan into her mouth, voice rough with relief. His hand slid to the back of her neck, fingers threading into her hair, not tightly, just enough to hold her, to keep her there. Robin’s lips trembled against his, but she kissed back, tentative at first, then bolder. Her tongue brushed his lightly, exploring, and when he sighed softly into her mouth, her whole body finally relaxed.
It wasn’t wild or frantic, not like dreams or fantasies. It was slow, tender, full of fear and wonder at the same time. As if both of them were terrified that moving too fast would shatter everything.
Robin’s hand slid up to Steve’s neck, fingers resting at his nape, and she pressed herself fully against him, chest to chest, hearts beating in sync.
When they finally parted, it was only a few inches. Both breathing hard, foreheads touching, breaths still mingling.
Robin’s eyes opened, and she wasn’t crying anymore.
“See, this is a really good way to handle those feelings,” Steve whispered, voice shaky but with a smile tugging at the corners.
Robin laughed softly.
“That’s one of the weakest lines I’ve ever heard from you,” she teased.
Then she leaned in again, this time without hesitation and kissed him slow and deep, like she was sealing something.
Steve pulled her into his lap. He didn’t care if she could feel his growing erection. Nothing had to happen tonight.
“You have no idea how many times I’ve imagined this,” he murmured when they broke apart.
Robin’s eyes flickered with a hint of doubt.
“Even after all this time?”
“Feelings don’t just switch off, Robin. I never would have asked for more than you wanted to give.” He pulled her closer. “If you want me, just say the word and I’m completely yours.”
Robin knew he meant it. He was giving her an out if she wasn’t sure.
“What if it doesn’t work? I can’t lose you, Steve,” she whispered hoarsely.
Steve’s chest tightened at the pain in her voice. She was truly terrified of him disappearing from her life.
“You’ll never lose me, Robs. Never.” One hand cupped her face, thumb stroking her cheek.
“You want this too?” she asked suddenly. “I mean… it’s just me. A weirdo who never knows when to shut up. I don’t think I’m the girlfriend you pictured.”
Steve looked at her in disbelief.
“For a very long time now, you’re the only one I picture,” he said quietly but firmly.
“And the other thing? It doesn’t bother you?” she asked softly, as if someone else might overhear. She didn’t need to specify. He knew: girls.
“Robin, I want you exactly as you are. That’s part of you, it belongs to you. I don’t care about labels or names.”
He saw fresh tears gather in her eyes, but he figured she’d cried enough tonight.
“Though it might be a little weird being jealous of women,” he added lightly.
Robin laughed softly and gave his shoulder a playful shove.
“Dingus…” she muttered, no bite in it.
Steve pulled her head closer and pressed his lips to hers again. His tongue slipped smoothly between her lips. He imagined doing this every day, and the effect was immediate.
“STEVE!” Robin squeaked and jerked back until she was straddling his thighs.
Steve raised his hands in surrender, smiling sheepishly.
“Sorry, sorry.” He dropped his head, embarrassed. “You’re just beautiful.”
“With my messy hair and cried-out eyes?” she asked playfully, but Steve stayed serious.
“You can’t look bad,” he said softly.
A blush crept up Robin’s neck to her face. She looked away.
“If you turn into some sappy machine, I’m dumping you, just saying.”
Steve laughed out loud.
“So… official?” he asked.
His heart pounded wildly in his chest. Part of him still couldn’t believe this was happening. He didn’t know what he’d done to deserve a girl like Robin’s love, but right now he didn’t want to overthink it.
“Yeah… I think so,” she smiled shyly.
Steve leaned back on the couch, pulling her with him so she ended up on his chest.
“Dustin is going to lose his mind when he hears,” he muttered, fingers threading through her sandy hair.
Robin frowned.
“Is that really the first thing that comes to mind?”
He shrugged.
“He’s been saying for ages that we’d end up together.”
Robin laughed shortly.

“Just this once, Steve! Just move your date with Robin to tomorrow! She’d understand!” Steve held the phone receiver against his shoulder, elbow propped on the counter.
“To hang out with you and Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson? Thanks, but no,” he said, his eyes finding Robin. She was stocking new releases on the shelves by the door, her face clearly judging the covers. One in particular made her grimace, but she just shook her head and put it up anyway.
“Come on, dude, you’ve been together practically every night for the last two months. Every relationship needs a little space,” Dustin argued. Steve was only half listening.
“That’s still a no, Dustin. And why would I trade an evening with my girlfriend for Munson?” Dustin snorted.
“You’re just jealous because I have another adult male friend.” Steve hoped no one heard Dustin say that.
“Ugh, gross. Whatever. Gotta go, buddy, customers are coming in. I’ll call you back.”
“Hey, you can’t—” but Steve already hung up.
He walked over to Robin from behind and wrapped his arms around her waist.
“No customers came,” she whispered with a smile, leaning back into him.
“Dustin doesn’t need to know that,” Steve grinned against her ear.
Two months had passed since the confessions and the tears. At first Steve worried everything would change between them, that the dynamic would slip, but he was pleasantly surprised. Robin still lectured him and never missed a chance to roast him. The only difference now was that at the end he got a kiss, or even a real one if he played the wounded puppy well enough.
“So since you already blew off Dustin,” Robin turned in his arms, looping hers around his neck, “how about after the basketball game we go to my place? My parents are out of town for the weekend, so… you could sleep over.” Her voice turned shy toward the end.
Since they started dating, he hadn’t slept at her house. Sometimes she stayed at his, but it never went beyond cuddling. Steve didn’t want to push or make her feel rushed in any way.
“Sure, that sounds good,” he said, already leaning in for a kiss, but real customers walked in right then.

Steve stepped out of the bathroom, still toweling off his hair. Steam trailed behind him into the hallway, but the bedroom door was open, and the soft glow of the bedside lamp fell only on the bed. Robin was already there, lying on her back under the covers, head on the pillow, hair fanned out. She wasn’t asleep, her eyes were open, and when Steve entered, she propped herself up a little, pulling the blanket up to her chin.
“You okay?” Steve asked softly, leaning against the doorframe in just his boxers.
Robin nodded, but her smile was shy, a little shaky. “Yeah. Just… waiting for you.”
Steve walked slowly to the bed, sat on the edge, the mattress dipped under his weight. For a moment they just looked at each other. No rush, no pressure. Just the quiet, familiar safety they’d built over two months.
He reached out carefully, thumb brushing her cheek from temple to jaw.
“We don’t have to do anything if you’re not sure,” he said very softly, very seriously. “No hurry. Never with you.”
Robin shook her head, smiling through the nerves. “I know. That’s why I want it. Because it’s you. Because I feel safe with you.”
Steve leaned in, resting his forehead against hers first. Then lower, their noses brushed, and finally their lips met. Soft, slow kiss, barely more than a graze. Robin’s hand slid up to his neck, fingers resting at his nape, and she deepened it. Her tongue touched his lightly, tentative, then braver. Steve sighed quietly into her mouth, hand settling on her waist over the blanket, just holding, not pushing.
Robin leaned back slowly, pulling him with her until she was lying down again. Steve braced himself on his elbows above her so he wouldn’t crush her, and kissed her again, deeper now, but still gentle. His tongue explored her mouth slowly; she moaned softly, body arching instinctively toward him.
Steve pulled back just enough to look into her eyes.
“Tell me anytime if it’s too much,” he whispered. “Or if you want slower. Or to stop. Anytime.”
Robin nodded, eyes shining. “I don’t want to stop. I want this… with you.”
Steve’s chest tightened with tenderness. He kissed her neck, slow, wet kisses down the skin, along her collarbone, to the hem of her shirt. Robin’s breathing grew ragged when his hand slipped under the fabric, gliding up her bare stomach. He lifted the shirt slowly, very slowly. She raised her arms, letting him pull it off. Steve paused, just looking, not rushing, not grabbing. His eyes were full of wonder.
“You’re beautiful,” he said quietly, and leaned down, lips finding one nipple. Tongue circled gently, then he took it into his mouth, sucking softly while his other hand cupped her second breast, thumb rolling the nipple between fingers. Robin’s back arched, a soft moan escaping, fingers threading into his hair.
Steve kissed lower, across her stomach, her navel, then paused at the waistband of her panties. He looked up, question in his eyes.
Robin nodded, trembling.
He slid the panties down slowly, kissing the inside of her thighs as he went. Then he settled between her legs, tongue tracing a slow, long line along her folds, up to her clit. Robin’s hips jerked, a quiet cry slipping out. Steve’s hands rested on her thighs, spreading them gently, and now he wasn’t holding back, tongue circling her clit firmly, sucking, while two fingers eased inside her slowly.
Robin’s head fell back against the pillow. She felt his fingers fill her, sliding in and out, curling to find that spot that made stars burst behind her eyes. His tongue worked relentlessly, quick circles, long licks, sucking again. Her thighs trembled, body burning.
“Steve…” she whispered, pleading.
He looked up, lips glistening with her.
“Tell me what you want,” he said softly, not commanding, just gentle.
Robin swallowed, eyes glassy with need.
“I want you… inside me. Please.”
Steve nodded. He rose slowly, pushed his boxers down, his cock hard, tip glistening. He settled between her legs, rubbing the head along her wet folds but not pushing in yet.
“If it hurts, or doesn’t feel good, tell me right away,” he whispered. “I stop immediately.”
Robin nodded, hand on his shoulder.
Steve pushed forward, very slowly, inch by inch, watching her face. When the head was fully in, he paused, letting her adjust. Her breathing was ragged, but she nodded keep going.
He continued, slow, deep, until he was completely inside. He stopped again, forehead against hers,breathing together.
“You okay?” he asked hoarsely.
Robin nodded, eyes teary but smiling.
“Yeah. Keep going.”
Steve began to move, very slow at first, deep strokes, watching her every reaction. When he saw her body relax, he picked up the pace a little, but stayed careful. Robin’s nails dug into his back, legs wrapping around his waist, soft moans with every thrust.
His hand slipped between them, fingers circling her clit quickly while he kept thrusting deep.
“Come for me, Robs,” he whispered roughly.
Robin’s body locked up, inner walls clenching hard around him, orgasm crashing through her in waves, quiet cry escaping, thighs shaking, eyes closing. Steve gave a few more deep thrusts, then buried himself fully and came, hot pulses filling her, and Robin felt every twitch.
For a long moment they lay tangled, panting, slick with sweat. Steve carefully pulled out but didn’t move away, he pulled her close, spooning her from behind, arm around her, lips brushing her neck.
Robin’s body still trembled with aftershocks, the warm, sticky feeling between her thighs now full, not empty.
“This… is real,” she whispered.
Steve kissed her shoulder, smiling against her skin.
“Real. And just ours.”
Robin turned in his arms to face him. Her eyes shone, not with tears, but happiness.
“Thank you for waiting for me,” she said softly.
Steve kissed her forehead.
“I’d wait forever, Robs. Always.”