My gift is for @xx-punkfaerie-xx! I am so sorry this is late! Things just kept happening in my life, which unfortunately pushed this to be later and later, but it's here now!
Tumblr also kept yelling at me, so the full nsfw piece will be posted on @steddieexchange's bluesky!
P.S. Don't look too closely at their feet or at Eddie's face, I didn't have time to fix them :'(
Female Steve Harrington, Female Eddie Munson, Lesbian Eddie Munson, Bisexual Steve Harrington, stevie harrington, Lesbian Robin Buckley, Lesbian Chrissy Cunningham, Buckingham Supremacy, we found love at a metal show, Vana's music is an aphrodisiac, Vaginal Fingering, Cunnilingus, Stevie's Great Big Bi Awakening, comphet will kill us all actually, a strap as a form of seduction, Wank and Tell | Creator is Open to Comments about Masturbating to This Work, hey fellas is it gay to give your friend a lil kiss on the neck at a metal show, Friends to Lovers, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Modern AUAlternate Universe - No Upside Down (Stranger Things), genderbent steddie, who among us hasn't made out with their friend in the filthy restroom at a metal show, Come Eating, Sapphic Steddie, baby bi's first hookup with a girl
Summary:
“I mean, everyone thinks that, right?”
Stevie’s bi awakening had started with that seemingly innocent question to Robin, while talking about how every woman was beautiful and desirable, but not every guy was cute (or even tolerable).
Wherein Stevie Harrington realizes she is bi, goes to a metal show with one of her best friends (and everyone's favorite local metalhead, Eddie Munson), and thusly has her world rocked.
* * * * *
This is my gift to @quinns-shadowy-arts for the 2025 Steddie Winter Exchange! I hope you like it, bb! I was ECSTATIC to see your notes on loving sapphic Steddie, so this was a DREAM PAIRING for me. 🖤
The biggest of thanks to my smutwife, the loml, my reason for living, @malikat24601, for beta-ing and creating the amazing graphic! Where would I be without you?! I genuinely do not know and shudder to imagine. I LOVE YOU SM! Long live The String.
I finally had the time to read this beautiful fic!
It was everything I'd ever want in a gift! This fic was so amazing! I am so grateful for this fic!!! Thank you so much @goingxsteddie for being such an awesome gifter. I loved your writing, characterization, and your storytelling! This fic will be reread many times over! I LOVED IT!!!! <3
summary: robin buckley’s summer job at scoops ahoy was supposed to be boring. then hawkins’ head cheerleader showed up in a sailor uniform. now robin’s just trying to survive the heat, hide her crush, and not invent an ice cream flavour named after chrissy cunningham.
warnings: infidelity, references to homophobia, angsty on robin’s end because chrissy has a boyfriend, masturbation (this is where the breeding kink comes in even though it’s a wlw ship hehe), dirty talk/bad porno language because robin’s mind is like that, workplace sex, unhappy ending
word count: 9k
a/n: a brand new ship that i’ve NEVER WRITTEN FOR IN MY LIFE :D but i love them so much and i can’t believe there’s not more content for them! sorry for not posting this on the 3rd, btw. the airport was chaos.
July 1985
Starcourt Mall was seemingly packed to the brim with people. Everywhere Robin looked, there were packs of teenagers in acid-washed jeans, moms with enormous perms wrestling babies into strollers, unsupervised kids in bowl cuts wandering aimlessly, and permeating the chaos, the overhead speakers blasted Madonna at a volume loud enough to drill a hole into her skull. Another Saturday in Hawkins, another summer of mall rats buzzing like gnats.
Used to the overstimulation by now, Robin moved through it easily, silently counting the days until school started up again and she wouldn’t have an excuse to wander through this fluorescent purgatory any longer. Every time she came in for her shift, she was painfully aware that this was not her scene.
Mercifully, though, Scoops Ahoy was just up ahead. Ever since school had let out, they’d had a daily trickle of customers, and it seemed like it was especially crowded today, judging by how many people drifted past her holding dripping waffle cones.
She already knew why.
Sighing internally, Robin stepped into the open storefront and the cool air instantly hit her — a mix of freezer chill, waffle cones, and the faintly sweet scent of whipped cream.
And amid it all, there she was.
Standing behind the counter like a walking, talking vitamin commercial was Chrissy Cunningham, her blonde ponytail perfectly in place, her laugh bright enough to make people stop and look. She was wearing the same humiliating sailor uniform Robin wore, but somehow it looked dazzling on her, like Chrissy had decided it was chic just by existing in it. Even that awful sailor’s hat didn’t look stupid on her, which was an achievement.
Jason Carver, naturally, was loitering nearby, because she didn’t go anywhere without him. Like every other time, the sight of him made Robin’s stomach twist. He leaned on the counter like he wasn’t blocking customers from the rows of ice cream tubs, slapping high-fives with anyone insufferable from school and laughing way too loudly, oblivious to himself. Robin’s first instinct was to glare at him.
Her second instinct kicked in just as fast: okay, yes, breathe. You are a professional. You do not stare. You are not twelve. You are not imagining building a life with the perfect head cheerleader in a sailor uniform. She does not want you.
“Chrissy, babe, you’re seriously gonna work here? You’re too good for this place,” Jason boomed, loud enough for half the food court to hear as Robin ducked behind the counter and swiped her badge at the clock-in machine, the electronic beep too cheerful for her mood.
Chrissy just smiled at him in that polite, practiced way that made everyone swoon.
“Didn’t you say you were meeting the guys at the arcade?” she asked lightly, like she was just reminding him, not nudging him out the door.
Jason blinked, thrown off for half a second, then laughed and slapped the counter. “Yeah, yeah, you’re right. Catch you later, babe.”
With that, he swaggered off to find someone else to annoy.
Robin let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Miracle of miracles, the room is quiet again.
Chrissy glanced up, caught Robin watching, and flashed her a quick grin — all sunshine and dimples, like Jason hadn’t just been hogging the oxygen supply.
Fuck.
Robin blinked, swallowed, and awkwardly nodded back. The sun itself had come to work at Scoops Ahoy, it seemed like.
She was supposed to be “serving smiles” or whatever management drilled into them at orientation, but so far she hadn’t put in more effort than a deadpan stare. As standoffish as she was, most of her coworkers had learned to leave her alone, and Robin liked it that way. But every time they were scheduled together, Chrissy seemed intent on smiling at her every time she clocked in.
And why? They barely knew each other. It wasn’t like she acknowledged her at school. She was a weird loner, and Chrissy was part of that perfect popular clique who were probably going to become lawyers or doctors or something once they left high school. It didn’t make any sense.
It also didn’t make any sense that every time Chrissy smiled at her, her stomach flipped. But she was an expert at shoving her feelings down by now: Tammy Thompson had given her a lot of practice.
Aiming for casual, Robin crossed her arms and leaned awkwardly against the counter. “How ever will you survive without your bodyguard, Cunningham?”
Chrissy glanced up, surprised, then laughed — an easy, musical sound that made her feel like her insides were about to short-circuit. “I think I’ll manage.”
//////
Hours later, Robin gratefully shoved the scoop back into the Rocky Road tub, wiped her hands on her apron, and announced to no one in particular, “I’m taking my break.”
She ducked into the break room — really just a cramped closet with a table, two folding chairs, and a Coke machine that ate quarters. Robin collapsed into one of the chairs, digging into her bag for the novel she pretended to read during breaks. The trick was to keep her nose in the pages so people wouldn’t try to talk to her.
CREAK!
Robin peeked over the top of her book just as Chrissy slipped inside, clutching a Diet Coke and a bag of pretzels, then sat across from her like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Of course. Of course this is happening.
“Hope it’s okay I sit here,” Chrissy said, unwrapping her pretzels. Her voice was gentle, almost tentative.
Robin flipped a page she hadn’t actually read. “Well, it’s either here or the floor. Can’t say I’d recommend the floor.”
Chrissy smiled. “I think I’ll risk the chair.” She popped a pretzel in her mouth, chewing thoughtfully. “You always bring a book?”
Robin tilted her head, wary. “It’s called self-preservation.”
“From what?”
“From people.” Robin gestured vaguely at the world beyond the break room door. “Customers, coworkers, humanity in general.”
Chrissy’s laugh rang out, bright and warm. “You don’t seem like you hate people.”
Robin raised her brows, deadpan. “You caught me on a good day.”
Chrissy just shook her head, still smiling, and for a moment, Robin couldn’t think of anything sarcastic to say.
Which was a problem, she thought, because sarcasm was her armour.
//////
By the time Robin got home, the house was quiet — her mom already asleep, her dad working late like always. She preferred it this way: no distractions to slow her down as she made a beeline down the hallway, shut the door to her room, dropped her Scoops Ahoy apron onto the floor, and flopped back on her bed without bothering to change. That could wait. Everything could wait.
She should’ve been exhausted. Instead, her head was buzzing, full of blond ponytails and sunshine smiles, because once again at the start of her shift, Chrissy Cunningham had smiled at her. Not just smiled — smiled like she saw her.
And Robin, idiot that she was, couldn’t let it go. As soon as she was alone, her imagination was already unspooling before she could stop it.
Not Hawkins, not Indiana — someplace warm and alive, where the air smelled like saltwater and fried food and no one knew their names. She saw them in a messy little apartment with peeling paint and sun-bleached curtains that never quite closed, the kind of place where you had to jiggle the faucet just right to make the water run. She saw Chrissy on the fire escape, eating shitty ramen in bare feet, laughing at something Robin had said.
In Robin’s head, it stretched on and on. Summer bleeding into fall, into winter, into forever. She’d thought about the tiny details of this over and over, after all. Sharing coffee over a rickety circular table in the morning, scribbling each other notes on grocery lists, falling asleep tangled together on the couch while some late-night TV show flickered in the background. Maybe one day they’d even get married — not a big wedding, not something perfect and church-approved, but something quiet and theirs. A courthouse, maybe. Or the beach at sunset. Chrissy in sneakers, Robin fumbling her vows on a napkin, both of them laughing through it.
And kids — of course there were kids in this fantasy, because Robin’s brain refused to quit while it was ahead. Curly-haired little gremlins who ran wild through parks and smeared popsicle juice down their shirts, Chrissy chasing them with wet wipes while Robin pretended to scold them.
A family. A whole life. Far away from shithole Hawkins and struggling parents who clearly regretted having her.
Her chest ached the longer she succumbed to this fantasy. It wasn’t like she didn’t know that this was stupid, impossible, absolutely ridiculous. But she lay there in the dark anyway, hugging her pillow, letting the dream wash over her.
She didn’t let her thoughts wander where her hormones wanted to take them. Not tonight. Not when the fantasy was already perfect in its own way.
Because in the real world, Chrissy Cunningham wasn’t hers. And Robin Buckley knew better than to hope.
//////
Management, in their infinite wisdom, seemed to think it was hilarious to schedule Robin and Chrissy together as often as possible. Maybe it was an accident, maybe it was cosmic punishment, but either way, every shift felt like a new test of Robin’s ability to act like a normal human being.
Chrissy played her part flawlessly — the golden girl in a ridiculous sailor uniform, smiling at every indecisive kid like she was born to sell ice cream. Robin, of course, couldn’t resist pointing it out.
“Your fake ice cream princess act is terrifying,” she muttered one afternoon.
Chrissy only laughed. “Says the girl with a permanent resting snark face.”
That was how it always went.
//////
Little by little, the moments built up. It was midafternoon, the rush tapering off, when Chrissy confessed she still hadn’t figured out how to make a float without creating an avalanche of foam.
Robin smirked, tugging the root beer bottle from her hand. “It’s all about physics. Which, apparently, they don’t cover in cheer camp.”
Chrissy rolled her eyes, but she leaned closer anyway, watching as Robin tipped the bottle at just the right angle over the scoop of ice cream. Their shoulders brushed, then their hands.
Robin’s heart promptly tried to beat its way out of her ribcage. She told herself it didn’t mean anything, but the warmth of her skin lingered long after the foam fizzled down.
“See? Easy,” Robin managed, her voice an octave too high.
Chrissy smiled, that beam of light that always undid her. “Guess I needed the right teacher.”
Another time was in the middle of a rush. Scoops clattering, kids shrieking, someone shouting for sprinkles. Robin bent down for the chocolate scoop just as Chrissy leaned in from the other side. Their shoulders collided, firm enough to notice but not enough to force either of them back.
Robin waited for Chrissy to move, but she didn’t. She stayed there, pressed against her, reaching for the tub like it was the most natural thing in the world. The scent of her shampoo — something sweet, apple maybe — drifted over, and Robin forgot how to breathe.
She forced herself to keep working, shoving ice cream into cones with more force than necessary. If anyone noticed, she’d blame it on the rush, on being annoyed at Jason still hovering around outside. Anything but the truth.
Chrissy only glanced at her, a flicker of a grin tugging at her mouth before she looked away again. Like she knew.
//////
It was almost closing time, the last of the Saturday sugar rush finally trickling out into the dimming mall. Chrissy wiped down the counter with practiced swipes, humming under her breath. Robin was half-watching her, half-fighting the usual Broadway show that never shut up at the back of her mind.
Then Chrissy hesitated — cloth stilled mid-swipe, her smile flickering like she was working up the courage for something.
“Hey, um… are you doing anything after work?”
Robin blinked.
Am I doing anything? Yeah, just the usual: going home, enduring her mother, collapsing in her room, maybe scribbling in her notebook about a life she’d never have.
“Not unless you count my thrilling plans with a frozen pizza and my Walkman,” she deadpanned.
Chrissy laughed, but it came out nervous. She twisted the rag in her hands. “Well, there’s this… pool party thing. The girls are having it. Nothing big, just — everyone hanging out, I guess. You should come.”
Robin’s stomach flipped. Her first instinct was hell no. She could already see it — a crowd of cheerleaders in neon swimsuits, guys doing cannonballs and flexing, everyone effortlessly at ease while she stood there like an extra from the wrong movie. The Weird Girl with her elbows sticking out, fumbling for jokes no one laughed at. She’d be way too vulnerable, and then she’d be talking way too fast to cover it up, and Chrissy would be looking at her like she was crazy, and — and —
Yeah, no. Not a chance in hell.
But then Chrissy smiled, softer this time, almost shy. “It might be fun.”
Curiosity wormed its way past Robin’s panic. Was this pity? Was this Chrissy being unfailingly nice, handing her an invite like she handed out smiles to little kids?
Or was it something else?
Robin swallowed. “Uh. Sure. Yeah. Pool party. That’s… exactly my scene.”
Chrissy’s grin widened, bright enough to make Robin’s sarcasm wobble. “Great! I’ll swing by after our shift, then.”
//////
Later
Robin lingered on the fringes of the pool, her arms crossed, her eyes scanning the chaos. Chlorine hung in the air as the cheerleaders flipped into the water, shrieking every time one of them splashed the other while Jason and his friends were loudly comparing who could cannonball the farthest on the opposite side of the pool.
Thrilling. A true pinnacle of adolescent achievement.
Chrissy, floating nearby on a pool noodle, caught it with a grin.
“Glad you’re impressed,” she called, her voice carrying over the noise just enough to pin Robin in place.
Robin’s stomach did a weird little flip. Did I say that out loud?
Instead of laughing, Chrissy started paddling toward her. Robin’s first instinct was to retreat, but Chrissy’s smile was disarming — open, amused, soft around the edges.
“Come on, don’t just spectate,” she said, nudging a spare noodle in her direction.
Robin hesitated. “I’m good, thanks. I — I melt in chlorine.”
“Guess we’ll find out,” Chrissy teased, still holding the noodle out. There was no trace of mockery in her tone, only warmth, and that was how Robin caved without much of an argument, bending to sit awkwardly on the pool’s edge and letting her feet dangle into the water.
It was cool against her skin, a shock after the sticky heat of the day. Chrissy floated closer, sunlight glinting off the water in ripples that danced across her shoulders. Her hair clung to her damp skin, tendrils curling near her neck. The sight made Robin’s chest tighten in a way that was both exhilarating and infuriating.
Focus, Buckley. Do not spontaneously combust.
“So… what are you laughing at?” Chrissy asked lightly, nudging her foot against Robin’s under the water.
Robin froze, realizing she must’ve muttered something too sarcastic. “Oh, nothing. Just, uh… admiring your coordination, I guess.”
Dry. Understated. Completely unconvincing.
Chrissy laughed again — that bright, musical sound that carried easily over the noise. She didn’t move away. In fact, she tilted her head, studying Robin with a curiosity that made her pulse trip.
“You’re funny,” she said simply. “Most people don’t get my jokes.”
“I think that’s because most people are… terrifyingly normal,” Robin said before she could stop herself.
Chrissy’s grin widened. “Maybe that’s why I like talking to you.”
Robin blinked. The world seemed to pause — the cheerleaders’ shrieks, the splash of water, even Jason’s obnoxious laugh fading into static. For one dizzy second, she forgot how to breathe.
This was Chrissy Cunningham — the head cheerleader, the picture of everything Robin was supposed to roll her eyes at — and she was sitting inches away, looking at her like she was something worth seeing.
And that was it. Robin was doomed. Completely, utterly, pathetically smitten. She'd stay in this moment forever if she could.
“Chrissy!”
It was then that Jason’s voice boomed across the pool deck, slicing through the air like a lifeguard whistle, and Robin flinched before she could stop herself.
Chrissy blinked, the spell between them breaking. She turned toward the sound, her smile dimming just slightly — not gone, just… smaller.
“Over here!” she called back, voice still sweet but thinner around the edges.
Jason jogged over, dripping from his latest cannonball, hair plastered to his forehead. He grabbed a towel off a chair, barely noticing Robin. “Babe, come race me. Loser buys Orange Juliuses tomorrow.”
Robin fought the urge to say wow, romantic. Instead, she sank her toes deeper into the water and pretended to be fascinated by a stray leaf floating near the filter.
Chrissy gave Jason a look — one that Robin caught but doubted anyone else would’ve noticed. It was polite; careful. The kind of look that said don’t make this a thing.
“I think I’ll sit this one out,” Chrissy said finally, still smiling that practiced, picture-perfect smile. “I’ve been in the water ever since we got here.”
Jason laughed, wrapping an arm around her shoulders anyway. “Come on, just one! You can’t bail on me in front of the team.”
It was a joke, but Robin saw it — the quick flicker of discomfort, the way Chrissy’s body stiffened just a little before she slipped out of his grasp and reached for her towel.
“Maybe later,” she said, still light, still golden. But when her eyes darted to Robin for half a second — brief, apologetic, almost pleading — Robin’s stomach did that stupid twisting thing again.
Jason didn’t notice. Of course he didn’t. He just shrugged and jogged back toward the diving board, yelling something about how he’d win anyway.
Chrissy let out a breath that sounded too soft to be relief and then smiled at Robin again, smaller this time. “Sorry,” she murmured. “He’s… enthusiastic.”
“That’s one word for it,” Robin said before she could filter herself.
Chrissy’s laugh bubbled up again, quiet but real. “You really don’t like him, do you?”
Robin hesitated. “I don’t… dislike him,” she lied weakly. “He just… has a lot of energy.”
“Yeah,” Chrissy said softly. “He does.”
Her gaze drifted toward the water, and for the first time, Robin caught something else in it — something uncertain. Something almost sad.
...
Was it possible she was lonely?
Robin had no idea what she was supposed to do with the ache that bloomed in her chest.
//////
As the sweltering summer went on, Robin tried not to think about Jason Carver. Really, she did. But it was hard when he was so loud, so oblivious, so… utterly unworthy of anyone who actually mattered. How the hell does Jason Carver deserve Chrissy Cunningham? she would often think to herself while scooping vanilla into a waffle cone. At that point, it wasn’t even jealousy, just confusion.
She started noticing the little things after that.
Well, she didn’t notice it all at once. It crept up in pieces, little cracks in the Chrissy Cunningham everyone else worshipped.
The way Chrissy’s smiles at him sometimes faltered, as if she were performing for the crowd rather than laughing with him. The forced brightness in her laugh when he said something dumb, the way her attention flicked toward Robin for the smallest second like a secret she wasn’t ready to share with anyone else.
Even the touches that seemed insignificant felt loaded now. A shoulder brushing Robin’s, a gentle nudge during a joke, hands almost lingering too long while handing her a towel. Each one made Robin’s chest tighten and her brain scream pay attention, idiot.
It all clicked together slowly, a mosaic Robin didn’t want to see but couldn’t look away from: Chrissy’s warmth, her care, her focus — rarely on Jason. And Robin, despite herself, found that her sarcasm melted away. She wanted to be the person who saw Chrissy the way she deserved to be seen.
//////
The cool tiles of Robin's bathroom felt like heaven against her flushed skin as she stepped out of the shower. She towel-dried her hair, humming softly to herself, and bent down to reach for her pyjamas — her usual sleep shorts and an old Beach Boys t-shirt that had long since lost its colour.
She shut off the bathroom light, crossed the darkened hallway, and flopped onto her bed, staring up at the ceiling fan as it spun lazy circles above her. Her mind felt like it was buzzing.
Her hand drifted down to her stomach, fingertips brushing the waistband of her shorts. She bit her lip, wondering briefly if she’d be able to to ignore the ache between her thighs, but she already knew it was no use.
Her mind kept drifting back to seeing Chrissy earlier, to the way she had leaned in close, too close, so close Robin could smell her sweet perfume. And she was just a ball of hormones right now. Nothing more, nothing less.
With that, Robin's hand slid beneath her shorts, fingers stroking through the slickness that had gathered there. She couldn’t help but gasp at the first touch — she was so pent up, she could almost immediately feel the ghost of Chrissy's hands on her, perfectly manicured fingers stroking her sensitive skin. It was all she needed.
She clenched her eyes closed and bit back a moan, rubbing faster. Her free hand came up to cup her breast, thumbing over the hardened nipple through her shirt. Chrissy's hands on her body, her mouth replacing her fingers between her legs…
This was so, so easy. It always was.
Robin's hips bucked against her hand, seeking more friction. She could feel the coil tightening in her belly, the pleasure building to a crescendo.
“Fuck,” she whispered, her fingers flying frantically over her clit. She could practically feel Chrissy's breath on her neck, hot and heavy with desire. She pictured Chrissy pushing her down on the bed, crawling over her, teeth grazing her earlobe as she whispered all the filthy things she wanted to do to her…
Her imagination was overloading her.
Instead of Chrissy on top of her, she imagined Chrissy beneath her, spread out on the bed like a feast, waiting for Robin to take her, to claim her.
“Please,” said Chrissy's voice in her head, breathy and desperate. “I need you. I need your cock.”
How else were they going to get the kids she always dreamed of, after all?
Robin's hand moved faster, hips rocking against her touch. She could practically feel Chrissy's hot, tight heat around her, could feel the way she would clench and pulse as Robin drove into her.
She wanted to fill Chrissy up, to pump her full of her seed until it took root in her belly. The thought of seeing Chrissy swell with her child, her body growing round and ripe with new life...it made Robin throb for reasons she couldn’t even name. She didn’t even have the right equipment for that, what the hell?
Robin could feel the coil tightening in her belly, the pleasure building to a crescendo. She was so close, so fucking close. Just a little more…
"I want you," Chrissy breathed, as Robin’s breath caught in her throat at the thought of it. "I need you inside me."
In a blink, she imagined Chrissy's hands on her breasts, squeezing and kneading the soft flesh. Imagined the way Chrissy's hips would rock against hers, searching for friction, for release.
"I'm going to make you feel so good," Robin would promise in response, and the number one indication that this was a fantasy was she sounded so sure. "I’m going to make you come so hard."
Chrissy whimpered, fingers digging into Robin's shoulders as she pulled her closer. "Please," she would beg. "I need it. I need you."
Robin's hand moved faster, fingers delving deeper into her own heat. She could almost feel Chrissy's walls clamping down on her, milking her for all she was worth. The thought made her throb, made her hips buck against her touch.
It was too much. Robin came hard, her release pulsing through her in waves just as she imagined flooding Chrissy's pussy with her cum, painting her insides white with her seed.
When it was over, she collapsed back onto the bed, her chest heaving. She was covered in a fine sheen of sweat, hair damp and sticking to her forehead, and she still felt boneless, sated in a way that made her want to curl up and drift off into blissful sleep.
Robin knew she should try to sleep — early shift tomorrow and all that. But as she rolled over and pulled a pillow close, all she could think about was Chrissy, surprise, surprise. Her smile, her laugh, the way she made Robin feel alive just by being near her.
She sighed, staring at the ceiling. She needed to get a grip.
But still...the thought of Chrissy's hands on her body, her lips on Robin's skin...it was enough to make Robin's blood run hot again.
She rolled onto her side with a groan, burying her face in the pillow. This was going to be a long night.
//////
Some time later
Robin's heart pounded as she watched Chrissy emerge from the backroom, her cheeks flushed and hair slightly disheveled. She knew what had happened in there — had seen the way Chrissy had been looking at her all day, all heat and want and barely concealed desire.
It had taken every ounce of her willpower not to pull Chrissy into that backroom and have her right then and there. But she had waited. Had bided her time until they were alone, until she could make her move.
And now here they were, the two of them. Chrissy stood frozen, eyes wide and lips parted, as if waiting for Robin to make the first move.
Robin didn't hesitate. She closed the distance between them in two long strides, her hands coming up to cup Chrissy's face.
"Chrissy," she breathed, her voice barely above a whisper. "I've wanted you for so long."
What was this, a bad porno?
Chrissy's breath hitched, hands coming up to clutch at Robin's shoulders.
“I...I don't know what to do," she confessed, her voice small and shy. "I've never...I mean, I've never been with a girl before.”
Robin's heart clenched at the admission, at the raw vulnerability in Chrissy's eyes. She leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to Chrissy's lips.
“Shh,” she soothed. “It's okay. I'll take care of you. I'll make it so good for you.”
Chrissy whimpered, melting into the kiss. Robin took advantage, tongue delving into Chrissy's mouth. Chrissy's hands slid into Robin's hair, holding her closer as she returned the kiss with clumsy fervour.
Robin smirked into the kiss, hands sliding down to grip Chrissy's ass. She gave it a firm squeeze, drawing a gasp from Chrissy's lips, but she couldn’t help but pause —
“Can — can I touch you?”
Brilliant, Robin. Ruin the whole thing by being awkward.
Miraculously, Chrissy nodded, eyes dark and blown with desire like she had actually been suave or something.
“Yes,” she hissed. “Please, touch me.”
Robin didn't need to be told twice. Her hands slid under Chrissy's stupid sailor shirt, pushing it up and off before tossing it aside. She took a moment to admire the view — Chrissy's breasts, heaving and full, encased in a lacy bra that left little to the imagination.
Was this really what she wore to work?
"Fuck," Robin breathed, hands coming up to cup the soft flesh. "You're perfect."
Chrissy blushed, squirming under Robin's touch.
"Robin," she gasped, arching into the caress.
Robin smirked, fingers dipping under the edge of Chrissy's bra to pinch at her nipples.
“You like that?”
Chrissy could only moan in response, head falling back. Robin took advantage, leaning down to suck at the exposed skin of her neck. She could feel Chrissy's pulse, could feel the way it kicked up at the contact.
“Please,” Chrissy whimpered, those delicate manicured hands clutching at Robin's shoulders. “I need more.”
She slid a hand into Chrissy's shorts, her fingers delving into her panties, and Robin would find that she was so wet, and her clit was so swollen —
“I can't wait to taste you,” Robin said, before she could help herself.
Robin didn't need to be told twice. She dropped to her knees, hands making quick work of Chrissy's shorts and panties. She pulled them down her legs, tossing them aside before leaning in for a taste, tongue delving deep into Chrissy's dripping cunt. Chrissy cried out, hands coming down to tangle in Robin's hair as she licked and sucked and nipped at Chrissy's sensitive flesh.
I want to feel her come on my tongue, she thought dazedly.
As though obeying her thoughts, Chrissy didn't hesitate. With a scream, she came hard, body shaking and shuddering as pleasure crashed through her.
Robin watched, transfixed, as Chrissy came undone above her. She looked so beautiful like this — flushed and panting and fucked out, eyes hazy and skin glistening with sweat. God, she could stay here forever if she could —
//////
Without warning, Robin jerked awake, her heart hammering like she’d been running laps around the mall. Her sheets were twisted around her legs, and that old t-shirt was clinging to her, damp with sweat. The last remnants of the dream — post-orgasm glow, Chrissy’s laugh, Chrissy’s hand brushing hers, Chrissy leaning in too close — clung like smoke, slipping away even as Robin tried not to chase after it. Because of course that had been a dream, her cruel brain constructing images so vivid for her just to laugh in her face as they dissipated into nothingness.
“Jesus Christ,” she muttered into her pillow, dragging a hand over her face. Her brain, traitorous as always, had filled in the gaps she’d seen at work: Chrissy in the stupid sailor uniform looking like she belonged in Vogue instead of Scoops Ahoy, Chrissy grinning at her like they shared a secret, the way she’d…
Stop.
Robin groaned, rolling onto her back and glaring at the ceiling like it had answers. “Get out of my head, Cunningham. I swear to God.”
With a grunt, Robin forced herself upright, her legs heavy as she stumbled toward her dresser. A glance at the clock made her stomach sink. Of course, another shift. Another day of pretending not to notice the way Chrissy’s smile made her want to melt into the linoleum.
She yanked her Scoops uniform off the chair where it had been crumpled since her last shift. Fucking fantastic.
Pulling the striped shirt over her head, Robin caught her reflection in the mirror — her hair wild, her eyes tired, her mouth tugged down in a scowl that was already halfway to sarcasm. Perfect. She could already picture Chrissy’s cheerful “Hi, Robin!” at clock-in, all sunshine and dimples, while Robin stood there like the human embodiment of a raincloud.
Awesome. Definitely not obvious at all, she thought.
Her stomach twisted, part nerves, part irritation, part something dangerously close to excitement. Robin shoved it down hard and headed out the door.
//////
Robin pushed through the Starcourt crowd, muttering apologies when someone’s shopping bag whacked her hip, clutching her bag like a shield. Her polyester uniform clung uncomfortably in the humidity, the stupid sailor hat tucked under her arm.
By the time she reached Scoops Ahoy, she was already sweating and twice as cranky as usual. The blast of freezer-chill air when she stepped into the open storefront should’ve been a relief, but her bad mood was stubborn.
And then, once again, there she was.
Chrissy Cunningham, already behind the counter, her hair in its perfect high ponytail, her eyes sparkling even under the fluorescent lights. She was laughing at something one of the younger kids had said, scooping ice cream like she was auditioning for a commercial about the joys of minimum-wage labour.
Robin nearly turned around and walked back out.
“Robin!” Chrissy’s face lit up the second she noticed her. She leaned over the counter, grinning like they hadn’t just seen each other yesterday. “You’re on register today, right? Thank God. I’m so bad at the buttons.”
Robin froze mid-step, hat dangling from her fingers, the dream flashing in her head so sharply it almost knocked her over: Chrissy laughing, leaning close, sunlight in her hair. Her stomach gave a treacherous flip.
She forced her voice into a flat monotone. “Yeah. Register. Buttons. My one true calling.”
Chrissy giggled — actually giggled — and Robin wanted to sink through the floor.
“You make it look easy,” Chrissy said brightly, already turning back to a customer, her smile dazzling.
Robin slid behind the counter and stabbed her timecard into the machine with more force than necessary. The cheerful beep felt like mockery.
She ducked her head, muttering under her breath, “Great. Eight more hours of this.”
But when Chrissy leaned toward her a few minutes later, whispering, “Don’t worry, I’ll bribe you with milkshakes on break,” Robin’s chest went tight and traitorous.
Because the truth was, despite everything, she wouldn’t rather be anywhere else.
//////
By the time the neon clock over the counter blinked 9:52, the mall had thinned to a hum. The last few kids stumbled out clutching cones, and the jangly music from the food court was muffled by metal grates pulling down one by one. Robin leaned her elbows on the counter, staring blankly at the blender as it whirred through their final milkshake of the night.
Chrissy was wiping down tables, still humming along to the radio — of course she was. Her ponytail had started to come loose, a few strands falling into her face, and the sight made Robin’s stomach twist like someone had reached in and wrung it out.
“Closing checklist complete,” Chrissy announced a few minutes later, bouncing back behind the counter. She set down the rag and smiled at Robin, eyes bright even under the flickering fluorescent lights. “We make a good team.”
Robin snorted, fiddling with the register keys. “Yeah, dynamic duo. You scoop, I suffer.”
Chrissy laughed, and for a second, Robin felt weightless — the kind of laugh that hit somewhere in her chest and made her forget she was wearing a dumb sailor outfit.
But then the silence came. The mall was too quiet now; just the hum of the freezer and the squeak of Chrissy’s sneakers as she stepped closer.
“You okay?” Chrissy asked softly.
Robin froze. “Yeah. Totally. Just, you know… tired of smelling like waffle cones and despair.”
Chrissy tilted her head, unconvinced. “You’ve been weird all day.”
“Me? Weird? That’s just my brand.”
“Robin.”
Something about the way she said her name — gentle, like she actually saw her — cracked something open. Robin set the scoop down and exhaled hard, pressing her palms against the counter.
“Okay, fine,” she muttered. “You really want to know what’s wrong?”
Chrissy nodded, frowning a little.
Robin looked up — and made the mistake of meeting her eyes. Green and gold and so open it hurt to look at.
“It’s you,” she blurted before she could stop herself. “You’re what’s wrong.”
Chrissy blinked, taken aback. “Me?”
“Yeah, you!” Robin’s voice came out sharper than she meant. She threw up her hands. “You’re just— you’re everywhere. I close my eyes and it’s you smiling or laughing or— I don’t know, being all… perfect and nice and you. And it’s driving me insane, because I can’t stop thinking about you, and I don’t know what to do with that.”
The words hung between them, echoing faintly in the tiled air.
Chrissy didn’t move. For a long, agonizing moment, she just stood there, her hand still resting on the counter, eyes wide and unreadable.
Robin felt her throat close up. “Forget it,” she said quickly, turning away. “I didn’t— that came out wrong, just— pretend I didn’t say anything, okay?”
“Robin.”
Her voice was soft — not scared, not angry, just soft.
Robin turned halfway, heart hammering.
Chrissy’s cheeks were flushed, but she wasn’t looking away. She stepped closer, slow and careful, until they were a breath apart. “You didn’t say anything wrong.”
Robin’s brain short-circuited. “What?”
Chrissy gave a tiny, nervous smile. “I… think about you too.”
For a second, neither of them moved. The air felt thick with sugar and static and something electric that had been there for weeks, maybe months, waiting for one of them to finally name it.
And then — before Robin could think or panic or talk herself out of it — she leaned in and kissed her.
It wasn’t perfect. Her hat nearly fell off, the counter dug into her hip, and the taste of strawberry milkshake lingered between them. But Chrissy kissed her back — soft, sure, trembling just enough to make Robin’s knees weak. Jason Carver be damned.
When they broke apart, the mall was silent again, the world holding its breath.
There was an awkward beat.
Robin and Chrissy stood facing each other, hearts pounding, hands trembling slightly as they tried to process what had just happened.
"Um,” Chrissy said finally, breaking the silence. Her voice was breathy, barely above a whisper. "That was..."
"Crazy?" Robin supplied, trying for a light tone even as her stomach twisted into knots. What had they just done? Chrissy had a boyfriend, for God's sake.
"No, I mean... it was good," Chrissy said quickly, her cheeks turning an even deeper shade of red. "Really good. I just..."
She trailed off, biting her lip nervously. Robin nodded, unable to find words. It was clear that now they had to deal with the consequences. Robin wondered how she was going to face Jason’s loitering at work tomorrow, and guilt twisted like a knife in her gut.
Safe to say the kiss left both of them a little stunned, breathing in sync, hearts racing somewhere between panic and euphoria.
Chrissy glanced around the darkened shop. The mall lights were dimming outside, and the only sound was the low hum of the freezers. She let out a nervous laugh that sounded half-thrilled, half-terrified.
“We probably shouldn’t—” she started, then stopped herself. “Someone could walk by.”
Robin swallowed, more awkward than ever. “There’s the back room.”
Chrissy hesitated, eyes flicking toward the door behind the counter. Her hand was still on Robin’s sleeve. For a long beat, neither of them moved — and then, without a word, she nodded.
Robin flipped the “closed” sign, locked the front latch, and led the way. The door swung shut behind them with a THUD that felt louder then it should have.
For a moment they just stood there — too close, the air heavy with sugar and something unspoken. Robin tried to speak, to make a joke, to ease the trembling in her hands, but Chrissy reached out first, fingers brushing hers in a question that didn’t need words.
Robin exhaled, something like a laugh catching in her throat. “You sure?”
Chrissy hesitated --- was she going to bring up Jason? -- but nodded once, her smile small but certain.
Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god.
//////
Robin’s fingers fumbled with the buttons of Chrissy’s uniform blouse, her hands with a mix of nerves and excitement. She'd never undressed anyone before, and the weight of the moment wasn't lost on her.
"Sorry," she mumbled, her cheeks flushing red as she finally got the last button through its hole. "I'm just... I've never..."
Chrissy gave her a reassuring smile, her own cheeks flushed pink. "Me neither," she admitted. "But I - I really want to.”
Robin’s heart skipped a beat at Chrissy’s words. She knew she shouldn't be doing this - she had a boyfriend, after all. But the way she was looking at her, with such raw desire and longing, made it hard to think about anything else.
Tentatively, almost shyly, Robin reached out to push Chrissy’s blouse off her shoulders. It slithered to the floor in a soft rustle of fabric, leaving her standing there in her skirt and bra, her creamy skin glowing in the soft light of the back room.
Chrissy’s smooth and perfectly manicured hands, in turn, found the hem of Robin’s shirt. But instead of simply tugging it up and over her head like Chrissy had expected, she seemed to hesitate, her fingers brushing against Robin’s waistband.
"Is this okay?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "I don't want to do anything you're not comfortable with."
Robin bit her lip, feeling a sudden surge of affection for this sweet, considerate girl.
"It's more than okay," she said softly, holding her gaze. "I mean - we should probably get out of here soon.”
Robin raised her arms to help her, and soon the garment was gone, leaving her standing there in her bra and shorts, feeling more exposed than she ever had before.
Chrissy's hands trembled slightly as she reached up to remove Robin's stupid hat, setting it aside on the counter. Her fingers brushed against Robin's cheek, lingering there as she gazed into her eyes with a kind of warmth that she wasn’t sure had been there before.
"You're so beautiful," Robin breathed out before she could stop herself, and Chrissy blushed. Not smiling in the polite way — she must’ve gotten a thousand compliments per shift — but like the compliment had actually meant something to her.
Chrissy reached out and tugged Robin closer, pressing their bodies together from chest to hip. She could feel every inch of Robin's soft curves against her own, the warmth of her skin seeping into her own.
"Kiss me," she demanded — holy shit. "Please."
Robin didn't hesitate. She captured Chrissy's lips with her own, kissing her with a desperate, almost frantic intensity that sent sparks shooting through her veins.
Chrissy's hands roamed over Robin's back and shoulders, mapping out the lines of her body through the thin fabric of her bra. Robin mirrored her movements, sliding her palms down Chrissy's sides to rest on the flare of her hips. The air around them seemed to grow hotter and more charged with each passing second.
But then Robin's hands slid around to the front of her body, cupping her breasts through the thin lace of her bra, and all rational thought flew out the window.
She could feel their weight, their warmth, the way they fit perfectly in her palms as if made for them. Robin rolled her thumbs over Chrissy's nipples, feeling them harden under her touch, straining against the confines of her bra.
Chrissy let out a breathless moan, her hips rocking forward as if seeking more friction. Robin could feel the need building within her own body, a throbbing ache that demanded satisfaction.
With that, Robin's hands slid down to the waistband of Chrissy's shorts, dipping beneath to caress the soft skin of her lower abdomen. She could feel the tremor that ran through Chrissy's body at her touch, the way she tensed and then melted into her hands.
Chrissy's hands mirrored Robin's, sliding beneath the hem of her shirt to trace the contours of her stomach, her sides, her back.
Feeling weirdly like she was about to pass out — holy shit holy shit this is actually happening — Robin hooked her fingers into the waistband of Chrissy's shorts, tugging them down inch by inch, revealing more of her body to her hungry gaze. She wanted to savour this moment, to commit every detail of Chrissy's body to memory so she could call them up later, when she was alone and had all the time in the world to explore the memory properly.
As the last of Chrissy's clothing fell away, Robin paused to drink in the sight before her. Chrissy Cunningham — shy, radiant, and everything she ever wanted standing there under the dim lights of the backroom.
But then reality came crashing back in, like a bucket of ice water dumped over her head. This was Chrissy -- Jason's Chrissy. She had a boyfriend, and Robin knew she shouldn't be doing this. It felt wrong, like a betrayal of their friendship, of everything they'd built together over the years.
"I... I don't know if we should be doing this," Robin said, her voice shaking as she took a step back. "I mean, you have a boyfriend. And we work together. What if someone finds out? What if--"
"Stop," Chrissy said, reaching out to grab Robin's hand. Her touch was electric, sending a shiver down Robin's spine. "I know it's crazy. I know we shouldn't. But... I want this. I want you."
Robin's heart pounded in her chest, a war raging within her. She wanted this too, more than anything. But the guilt, the fear of what might happen if they got caught, it was all too much.
"I just... I don't want to hurt you," Robin said, hating how weak her voice sounded. "I don't want to ruin our friendship. Or our jobs."
Chrissy nodded, biting her lip. "I know. Believe me, I've thought about this too. But..."
She shrugged weakly, clearly meaning something along the lines of I don't want to ignore this feeling anymore.
Robin swallowed hard, her resolve wavering. Part of her wanted to run away, to hide from this complicated web they were spinning for themselves. But another part of her, a part she'd kept buried for too long, yearned to lean into the passion burning between them.
"I'm scared," she admitted, her voice barely a whisper. "But... I want this. I want you."
Chrissy's face broke into a radiant smile, her eyes sparkling with joy and relief.
"Then let's do this," she said, pulling Robin close again.
Robin nodded quickly, unable to stop herself. Ever since she’d finally kissed her, Chrissy pulled at her like they were sewn together with invisible thread. She couldn't get enough of her, couldn't touch her enough to sate the hunger that had been building inside her for so long.
Okay, she told herself. Okay. Don’t fuck it up now, Buckley.
Chrissy arched into her touch, her own hands sliding under Robin's shirt to caress the smooth skin of her back. She could feel the heat of Robin's body seeping into her own, the way their bodies seemed to fit together like two pieces of a puzzle.
Blindly, feeling vaguely like this was probably what she should do, Robin's mouth moved from Chrissy's lips to her neck, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses along her throat.
Chrissy tilted her head back with a soft moan, giving Robin better access as her hands fisted in her hair.
"Please," Chrissy gasped out, not even sure what she was begging for. She just knew that she needed more — more touching, more kissing, more everything.
Robin didn't hesitate. Her hands slid down Chrissy's sides to her hips, gripping them possessively as she pressed their bodies even closer together. With shaking fingers, she reached for the back of Chrissy’s bra, fumbling with it in her haste.
Chrissy helped her, shrugging out of the garment and letting it fall to the floor. Then Robin was running her hands over the smooth expanse of her chest, marvelling at the softness of her skin and the hardness of her nipples against her palms.
Chrissy let out a sharp gasp as Robin rolled and pinched the sensitive buds, sending jolts of pleasure through her body. She bucked her hips forward, grinding herself against Robin’s thigh as if seeking friction.
She leaned down to capture one of Chrissy’s nipples in her mouth, swirling her tongue around the hardened peak as her hand continued to play with the other. Thankfully, Chrissy gasped a little, her fingers digging into Robin’s shoulders as she arched into the contact.
Robin lavished attention on Chrissy’s breasts until she was trembling with need, then trailed hot, open-mouthed kisses down her stomach. She could feel Chrissy’s muscles quivering beneath her touch, the way her breath hitched in anticipation.
When she reached the waistband of her skirt, she hesitated for the millionth time. She hadn’t forgotten that they were in the backroom of Scoops Ahoy, and everything about this was terribly wrong, after all.
But as she looked up at Chrissy’s face, flushed and panting with desire, all hesitation melted away — this was what she wanted. What they both wanted.
With that thought in mind, Robin hooked her fingers into the waistband of Chrissy’s skirt and tugged it down, along with her panties. Chrissy lifted her hips to help her, kicking the garments away once they were clear.
And then there was nothing between them but skin on skin, heat on heat, need on need. Robin ran her hands up Chrissy’s bare thighs, marveling at the smoothness of her skin and the way it quivered under her touch.
She could smell Chrissy’s arousal, see the evidence of it glistening on her inner thighs. The sight made Robin’s mouth water with want, her own desire pulsing hot and heavy between her legs.
Unable to resist any longer, Robin leaned in and pressed a hot, open-mouthed kiss to her inner thigh. Chrissy let out a quiet gasp, her hips bucking forward as if trying to pull her closer.
Feeling like she’d done something right, Robin obliged, burying her face between Chrissy’s legs and lapping at the wetness gathered there. She tasted sweet and musky, a flavour that made her head spin with need.
At that point, Robin’s thoughts weren’t even thoughts anymore, just a fireworks show of panic-joy-lust, like every nerve ending was screaming THIS IS HAPPENING, HOLY SHIT, CHRISSY CUNNINGHAM WANTS ME, I AM GOING TO ASCEND THROUGH THE CEILING TILES, and it felt impossibly good and terrifying and perfect — she could stay right here, forever, buried in Chrissy’s warmth, never clock out again, never speak English again because her brain had been replaced by horny dolphin squeaks —
//////
The hum of the freezer was louder now, or maybe Robin just couldn’t stop hearing it — a steady drone under her heartbeat. The air in the back room was thick and sweet, smelling faintly of sugar and sweat, of something that shouldn’t have happened but did anyway.
Chrissy was quiet beside her, hair mussed, her Scoops Ahoy shirt half-unbuttoned. She was tracing shapes on Robin’s wrist with one pink-painted nail, slow and absentminded, like she was trying to memorize her. Robin didn’t dare move, didn’t even breathe too loudly.
For a second, it was perfect — the kind of moment you’d bottle up if you could, hide it in a drawer to open years later.
Then Chrissy exhaled.
“Robin…” Her voice was small. “We can’t—”
“I know,” Robin said too quickly. She tried to make it sound casual, like it didn’t already hurt. “Trust me. I know.”
Chrissy smiled at that — soft, sad, guilty. “You’re really bad at lying, you know.”
Robin laughed, quiet and hollow. “You’re really bad at pretending.”
That got a look — something raw flickering across Chrissy’s face before she glanced away, pulling her hair back into its neat ponytail like a reflex. Outside, the muffled jingle of the closing music played, the mall’s way of saying time’s up.
Robin sat up first, tugging her shirt into place. The air felt cooler now, like everything between them was already evaporating. Chrissy stayed sitting for a moment longer, her knees drawn up, her eyes fixed on the floor.
When she finally stood, she leaned in — just enough for Robin to feel her breath against her cheek.
“Don’t tell anyone,” Chrissy whispered, and it wasn’t a threat. It was a plea.
Robin nodded. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
She meant it.
Later, as she locked up Scoops Ahoy and the lights flickered off one by one, Robin looked back at the counter —the half-melted ice cream in the sink, the empty space where Chrissy had stood.
Maybe it was just summer, she told herself. Just heat and sugar and too much hope.
I find it funny how people characterize Robin as the rational one and Steve as the weird one when canonically Steve is the one insisting that they sit and chat about what to do instead of running off and getting into trouble- the only reason he's in danger is because he has a hero complex- and Robin is the one antagonizing Russian soldiers, breaking windows, and doing her very best to talk to serial killers and hunt down suspected murderers. Steve is such a rule follower lmao, did you see his face when he realized they were stealing an RV? Did you see Robin's? That girl has no chill, stop pretending otherwise. Steve is trying to keep her from cursing out customers on the reg, she's reminiscing about the time she crashed a car and got chased by the cops at prom.
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