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It takes quite some time for Robin to notice just how long Steve spends at the hospital, but once she does, she feels like it should be impossible that nobody else had already noticed.
But, she figures, they’d all just taken his presence for granted, the same way she had.
Because he’d been there right from the start, when he’d spent hours arguing with managers who seemed reluctant to even let Eddie in, never mind providing him with treatment. And he’d stayed right there, herding the kids in and out of rooms every day and bringing up countless cups of tea and coffee for the older of the visitors and sweet-talking the nurses into giving them slightly more flexible leaving times.
Robin had grown used to him greeting her at the doors and giving her updates on how Eddie and Max were doing, and she’d found herself considering him as some kind of honorary staff member. Which, possibly, had been why it hadn’t seemed odd for him to always be present.
In fact, she doesn’t think anything of it, given his history as such a fierce babysitter, until she overhears a conversation between Steve and Wayne.
“When’s the last time you changed clothes, kid?” she hears Wayne ask.
She pauses just outside the door, because, actually, she can’t think of the last time Steve hadn’t been wearing a blue sweater and jeans.
“I washed them yesterday, they’re fine,” Steve replies, which sounds more like him being defensive than him answering the question.
Wayne must agree, because she hears him sigh heavily. “I know you wanna be here for him, son, but he wouldn’t like that you’re not taking proper care of yourself.”
“He needs taking care of more, Wayne,” Steve says quietly.
Robin bites her lip at that, because she’s never approved of how self-sacrificing her dingus seems to be, and she thinks it’s a shame that nobody has told him he’s more than redeemed himself yet.
In fact, when Wayne asks, “And who’s taking care of you, then?”, she takes that as her cue and swings herself into the room.
“That would be me, I think!”
Steve jumps, turning to her with wide eyes. Behind him, Wayne smiles and nods at her, and she takes that as forgiveness for having been listening in to their conversation. She walks over and pokes Steve’s chest. “Besides, he’s right, it’s boring to wear the same colours all the time.”
“Are you calling me boring , now?” Steve asks, raising an eyebrow. “Very mature.”
Robin sticks her tongue out at him, then turns to Wayne with a smile. “Not to worry, Mr Munson, I’ll bring him back in a brand new colour so he doesn’t bore you in here.”
Wayne chuckles, and Steve looks at him with mock betrayal. There’s something in his eyes, though, that suggests he’s nervous about more than just a new outfit or being accused of being boring.
She nudges him gently. “Eddie isn’t going anywhere, dingus. You can spare a few hours.”
“But what if…?”
This time, Wayne clears his throat. “I reckon the nurses’ll call you first when he wakes, son.”
Steve looks between the two of them and sighs, running a hand through his hair. “No detours?”
Robin hums. “ Well , I mean, we might as well pick up some food that hasn’t been reheated like six times, right?”
“I’d take some fries,” Wayne chimes in, playing along, and Robin thanks the stars that someone else understands how Steve’s brain works, how Steve is a million times more likely to do something if it benefits someone else as well.
After a moment, Steve groans. “You two are the worst. But fine . Fine . We’ll be back in a few hours, max.”
Robin nods, and Wayne claps Steve on the shoulder. “Good. Go freshen up, kid, you deserve a break.”
“Couldn’t agree more! Bye, Mr Munson!” Robin calls, looping an arm through Steve’s and pulling him along with her. She feels Steve wave at Wayne as they leave and grins, but doesn’t loosen his grip in case he changes his mind.
“Okay, you can let go now,” Steve mutters as they reach ground level, but doesn’t pull his arm away. She hums again, but doesn’t let go until they’re actually outside the main doors.
“Where’s your car?” she asks, though she spots it before she can answer, and guides them over to it. “Oh, god, please tell me you’ve got your keys in your pocket.”
Steve laughs and nods. “Of course. I think Wayne would have thrown them out the window, he’s been lecturing me about taking a break every other day.”
“And you haven’t been listening because …?” Robin asks, incredulous.
But Steve just shrugs, and doesn’t offer any hint of explanation on the drive to his place. He slows as they get to Loch Nora, and Robin turns to him in confusion. “It hasn’t been so long that you’ve forgotten the way, surely.”
She watches as Steve’s knuckles whiten, and he takes a deep breath. “I need you to promise me you won’t freak out, Robs.”
Naturally, she freaks out, just a little. She just about manages to keep the panic from her face—or, she hopes she does—and reaches over to gently punch his shoulder. “I’m not gonna freak out. What are you hiding?”
She frowns as Steve just worries at his lip for several moments before speeding up again. “Just… don’t freak out.”
And she doesn’t, not until they pull into his driveway and she notices the for sale sign on his front lawn. She stares at it in disbelief, and must not do a very good job of keeping the panic from her face this time because Steve groans. “You said you weren’t going to freak out!”
“I’m not freaking out! You’re freaking out! I’m so calm! Are you leaving ?” she blurts, her heart racing several miles too fast.
Steve turns the engine off and climbs out of the car, so she does the same. He meets her eyes over the roof and offers her a strained smile. “I’m not leaving. I couldn’t. You know that.”
Robin nods, then shakes her head. “I mean, I do know that. But that’s a for sale sign right there, so I’m just a little confused right now!”
She realises immediately that she’s not being very comforting, so she closes her eyes for a second and takes a few deep breaths. “Sorry. Sorry, sorry, I’m totally freaking out on you. I care about you, dingus, and I’d really like an explanation for why your house is on sale, but we can go inside and find you a new outfit first. I’ll be so chill.”
A pause, then Steve smiles gratefully at her. “That sounds good, Robs. I’ll explain after I shower, okay?”
“Okay, stinky,” she grins, and follows him inside. She forces herself not to react to the sight of the sheets pulled over the couches, or the dust on the kitchen countertops, or the smell of fresh paint that seems to be oozing from the walls.
She doesn’t react to any of the concerning things until they reach Steve’s room, at which point she decides she can’t avoid commenting. “Steve… where’s all your stuff?”
Steve winces. “My clothes are in the wardrobe.”
Robin glares at him. She knows she’s being a little harsh, but it’s beyond unsettling to see his room so empty, as if he doesn’t even live there anymore. “ Steve . All. Your. Stuff. Where is it?”
He doesn’t reply, and flops back onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling. After a moment, she flops beside him, and finds his hand, squeezing gently. “Talk to me, dingus.”
Squeezing her hand in return, he sighs. “My mom has always hated clutter. But she hated tidying more, and her way of keeping the place clean was just… chucking the stuff that looked messy.”
Robin inhales sharply, and squeezes his hand tighter. She hopes she’s wrong about where the story is going, but has a bad feeling that she’s not going to like the conclusion.
“I started keeping my stuff hidden if I wanted to keep it,” Steve continues, “but I… got lazy? Stopped expecting them to come back at any moment. I mean, they haven’t been back in months. And then… and then, I guess, when we were in the upside down, they came back.”
“Oh, Steve,” Robin breathes.
“They left me a note. They’re, um, selling the house. Something about the earthquakes affecting the value of the place, or whatever. I don’t know, I’ve never been smart enough for all the business stuff, but—”
“Hey,” Robin interrupts, elbowing him. “You’re plenty smart. You might be a dingus but you got us out of there. You can be smart without business.”
Steve hums, but doesn’t protest, so she counts that as a win. He shifts so his head is pressed up against her shoulder before continuing. “Apparently my room was ruining the tour. So, um, anything dumb that wasn’t nailed down had to go!”
He sounds so bitter that Robin almost doesn’t recognise his voice. But a moment passes, and another, and she realises that the bitterness is just grief, because, for all his bravado, he’s soft , and, to be honest, she would be devastated about losing her collection of souvenirs and trinkets and photographs and whatever else too.
“I’m so sorry, Steve,” Robin whispers, and presses her head against his. It’s a little awkward, because they’re still sideways, but she hopes the thought counts anyway.
“They took my bat, Robs,” Steve mumbles, and Robin aches for him, because she might not know everything that went down before she got involved, but she knows that, ever since she’s known him, Steve has been almost concerningly attached to the creepy nail bat everyone claims he keeps using for battle.
“I’m going to bite them,” she mutters darkly.
There’s a moment of silence before Steve snorts. She pushes herself up onto an elbow and stares down at him. “Hey! Don’t laugh at me. I will bite them.”
“I believe you,” Steve says, grinning at her with watery eyes.
He might not, but it doesn’t matter, because she’d just wanted to make him laugh so he didn’t start crying. Not that she wouldn’t have let him cry his heart out, because he has every right to, but she can tell that he’s exhausted and she’s already pushed her luck by forcing an explanation out of him, so a breakdown might be a little too much.
“And I don’t want to hear that you’re sleeping in his big, dumb, empty house anymore,” Robin says, pretending they don’t both know he hasn’t done so for weeks now, “because there are so many spare rooms with your name on them. Mine included. Well, my couch included, because, again, I’m poor , but you know what I mean.”
Except it seems as though he doesn’t know what she means, because he stays oddly silent as he frowns at her.
Robin pokes him in the forehead. “Come on, dingus. You’re not telling me you don’t believe the others would throw a hissy fit if they found out you didn’t have a place to call your own?”
He doesn’t tell her, but she can tell anyway, because his eyes widen in surprise, as if asking the others for a solution to being halfway kicked out of the house hadn’t even occurred to him.
“Jesus Christ, Steve Harrington,” she mutters.
He raises an eyebrow. “Full names for everyone, huh?”
She whacks his arm. “ Stop distracting me. Look, I’m going to be so serious for a minute when I say that everyone will probably fight to have you sleep over at their place. I think Henderson and little Byers might actually throw punches about it. And the girl with powers would probably throw something about it. Mr Munson would just throw you a disappointed look, I guess, but I think that might actually be worse? The point is, you deserve to be taken care of, and I’ll bite you too if you don’t agree with me.”
And, to prove her point, she lifts their joined hands and gently clamps her teeth down on his wrist. That seems to be the thing that snaps him out of his disbelief, and he reaches up, softly flicking her forehead. She grins as she then pulls away from his skin, waiting patiently as the cogs finish turning his head.
“You really think I deserve that?” he asks, ever so softly.
Robin nods enthusiastically. “I swear on my grave.”
“You don’t have a grave,” Steve points out, to which she just shrugs, because her point still stands. He sighs, and squeezes her hand, just shy of painfully. “But I get it.”
“Mmm, I don’t think you do, dingus,” Robin says, “but I’m not going to rest until you do. First order of business: you have a shower and I put together a better outfit for you.”
Steve chuckles. “What, are you gonna make me wear eyeliner again, too?”
“No, you’re just going to cry it off when Wayne compliments your new look,” Robin teases, and Steve rolls his eyes, flopping onto his back again. “I’m not wrong .”
“You two are the worst ,” Steve grumbles, though he sounds entirely happy about that.
She gives him a moment of rest before springing to her feet and tugging on his hand, grateful that Wayne had, intentionally or not, forced some very important realisations onto her. “And, on that topic, we promised Mr Munson a feast. So let’s go, already, I can literally feel a strawberry milkshake craving emerging.”
“As if you need any more sugar,” Steve laughs, but does the hard work for her and pulls himself upright. “You’re sweet enough already.”
As much as that fills her heart with warmth and pride and joy, it’s still her duty to be a little silly and make him laugh, so she just makes a face at him. “Eww, no flirting!”
He sticks his tongue out at her, and gives her hand one last grateful squeeze before heading to the bathroom. Robin watches the door close behind him before pinching the bridge of her nose until her eyes stop prickling. She boxes up her utter outrage to come back to another time in favour of planning how to start healing the parts of Steve he doesn’t even realise are wounds.
He’s spent so long taking care of everyone around him, and she thinks—there’s no doubt the others will agree once she and Wayne knock some sense into them too—it’s about time his love is returned, in ways he can understand.