So I wrote this mini fic back in January and never actually posted it but it was based on my own experience partly and an idea I had about how Robin and Steve's first few interactions at Scoops Ahoy might have gone and also hit on the autistic traits I see in Robin as a borderline autistic person with ADHD. So....here it is, my favourite Autistic coded lesbian telling you about...
The Beginning of a Beautiful Friendship
Fandom: Stranger Things (Season 3)
Characters: Robin Buckley, Steve Harrington, 'Mr Scoops'
Time: The weekend before Summer Vacation, 1985
Topics: Platonic soulmates, autism solidarity, hurt!comfort
"Welcome aboard, matey! You'll be paid by the hour, anything extra will come from tips which you will split with whoever else is on duty with you and one of you will need to lock up and open up for each shift!" Smiled Mr 'Scoops'. Roger his name is Roger. I dredged up a cheery grin as he waggled a set of keys in front of us, a key chain holding a miniature sailboat dangling rakishly from the bundle. I reached out to grab the keys just as my brand new coworker swiped them out of Roger's hand deftly.
"Thanks Sir, we'll take it from here. Just hand me a scooper and a register of cash and we'll make it rain ice cream in this mall!" Steve crowed, running a hand through his greased up, over styled hair. There are many young men on this earth that can turn my stomach but none more than Steve 'The Hair' Harrington. A man who once thought flicking boogers at girls was flirting, sloppy kissing in corridors was charming and having hair held in place by military grade hairspray, was the same as having a personality. I was just about to butt in when Mr Scoops suddenly held out two clothes bags.
"Ah, not so fast there! If you're working at Scoops Ahoy you'll need a uniform. So you can wear the colors of The Seven Seas with pride, me hearty!" I was already so over this swashbuckling nonsense but now there was a uniform? Whatever, maybe it would just be a blue vest right? Wrong!
"Come on out, Sailor!" Roger called, clearly starting to get impatient. I could almost see Steve's smirk as he spoke.
"Yeah, show us what you've got, Shipmate!"
I stepped out of the backroom glaring at Steve, dressed in the official uniform. I caught a glimpse of myself in the refrigerator door and saw the blue and white sailor shirt, the blue cropped vest, the white knee highs, the sailor hat and the awful, awful pleated white mini skirt.
"I look ridiculous!" I exclaimed as Steve stifled a laugh, trying not to explode. Roger looked me up and down, clearly impressed with his own efforts.
"Are you kidding? This thing barely covers my ass!"
"You expect me to serve ice cream and bus tables in a skirt that men will oh so delicately pick at just to get a look at my hiney?"
"Oh don't be like that! It's your uniform."
I scoffed, pointing at Steve's outfit of a navy blue sailor shirt, sensible knee length blue shorts with pockets, sailor hat and hockey socks.
"I look like I work in a Men's Only Club!"
"You'll wear the skirt and that's final. It's policy, wear the uniform or seek employment elsewhere."
I shut up at that remark. I really couldn't afford to quit this job, let alone get fired. I was worse than broke. And I wasn't gonna get money doing errands around the house. I needed the income if not for my own independence this summer. This was it. If selling my soul to the capitalist market to make my own way in shitty little Hawkins was the price for my financial independence then so be it. But I was definitely investing in larger underwear. Just to be safe.
The first day of work. Yay. Not yay. It was pandemonium. The heat wave hit Hawkins like a truck and the kids swarmed to Scoops for any lick of ice cream, any semblance of relief from the burning sun. In the first hour my skirt had already either stuck to my legs or been raised by curious teen boys hoping to see my fanny. My smile got tighter as the day wore on, Steve flirted like it was his goddamn profession, this one group of girls insisted on sampling every flavor on offer and guys couldn't help but leer at me anytime I stepped out from behind the counter. It was all way too much. I threw down my scooper at around 12, so done with this shit. Steve tried to stop me.
"Woah Robin, we've still got customers out here! Don't leave me stranded!"
"Robin, wait!" But I was already tearing off, trying to find somewhere silent. The noise in my head wasn't shutting off and the cacophony of talking, music, fountain sounds, machinery and everything else was sending my brain into overload. I couldn't talk, I couldn't move, I couldn't breathe, I just sat there curled up in the walk in freezer, silently sobbing and rocking, wishing it would all stop.
"Robin? Jesus, I thought we'd lost you.." I wasn't sure how much time had passed when he found me. The door of the walk in swung open hard when I came back to my senses, the noise seemed to have faded by a lot and seemed further away than before. I managed to lift my head and saw Steve walking towards me before crouching to try and help me up.
"Hey. You wanna turn into a popsicle in here? Cause trust me, I'm not so sure they'd like the taste of you."
Okay that was pretty funny. But I still couldn't find the words. It was like my tongue was frozen. And for some reason he seemed to understand.
"You don't wanna talk? Or...you can't talk right now? It's okay, I uh, I babysit these nerd- these kids sometimes and one of them...freezes up if they get a little overwhelmed. Doesn't wanna talk, goes kinda immobile, shuts down and stuff so what I learned was to let them know they're safe. They're okay. And that they don't need to worry. But if they want to worry then they can go right ahead. That's what you're feeling like, right?"
I'd never heard it put into words so perfectly before. Was this really the same Steve who had flicked fries at my head in Middle School? Who had deliberately broken Jonathan Byers camera in front of him? Also, Steve was a babysitter? I just nodded my head emphatically like a freak, my eyes widening as I tried to express myself without the power of speech. He smiled and helped pick me off the floor and as he did, I heard something rip when I stood up. My skirt...I tried to look at it but saw the cheap nylon had gotten stuck to the ice and therefore had torn when I tried to get up.
"I...am so sorry. Maybe there's a spare skirt in the bag?" I shook my head, knowing that I'd get fired for this. I was totally screwed thanks to my own stupid brain going into overload. Steve started rummaging around in the bags, looking for nothing in particular and then pulled out a pair of identical shorts, a size slightly smaller than his, pockets and all. I eyed them like they were solid gold, envious to wear them myself.
"You want these? This pair didn't fit me. You can have them, I'll explain everything to Roger." I took the shorts and went into the backroom, practically tearing off the skirt and pulling on the shorts, stroking the fabric and the gold buttons on the real pockets! I had pants with pockets. I flailed my hands like a little kid playing with them, grinning from ear to ear, squeaking a little. Steve walked in, an eyebrow raised when he saw me.
"So you like the shorts?"
"Ahem. Uh yes. I do. A lot. Very practical. Thanks."
"I won't tell if you won't. The whole babysitter thing isn't really something I brag about honestly. Truce?"
"Truce." I agreed, shaking his hand. Maybe this Summer wouldn't be so bad. Even if I had to share it with a total dingus like Steve Harrington. He handed me a scooper and smiled. Back to the grind we go.
Tagging: @jackiequick @gcthvile @blueboirick @cherrysft @meiramel
