Her Husband
Fandom: Stranger Things Summary: Robin's a nervous person, everyone knows that. First dates are also a nerve-wracking ordeal for everyone, but more so for her. Warnings: Mentions of period typical homophobia Word Count: 782 Ship(s): Steve Harrington&/Robin Buckley
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A/N: So this is the first half of a two-part (or maybe more if I decide there's a need for it) series and it may not make a ton of sense alone. I hope that you all enjoy this part and are prepared for the next one! Stay sissy and bitchy everyone <3
Robin shifted uncomfortably on her chair. This was probably her least favorite part of having a first date with a new romantic interest. She had done it over a dozen times at this point,a ll the way through college and even into her adult career. She thought that it would get easier after a little while but it almost seemed like the world was specifically against her to make her just as anxious about it every single time she did it.
“I have something that I have to confess if we’re going to keep going down this path,” she cleared her throat awkwardly.
“Oh yeah?” her date asked.
Ashley was pretty and kind. She had long red hair that she kept in a braided bun on the back of her head because she worked with animals. Her hands were calloused on her right middle finger and along the base of her thumb. She had fair skin that refused to freckle no matter how long she stayed in the sun. Tonight she had worn a pretty blue dress that kept slipping off of her shoulder to reveal the lacy black bra that she was wearing. The fact that she was kind, worked with animals, and had obviously come to their date with the expectation of the night ending in sex was what was making it so much worse for Robin.
She wiped her hands on her pants and reminded herself that she had faced way worse than this. She would much rather have to tell pretty women who wanted to have sex with her the little secret that she kept tucked into another part of her life than fight Vecna or be tortured by Russians. But it didn’t always feel like it.
“I have a husband,” she explained.
Ashley immediately wrinkled her nose and leaned back in her chair like Robin had just told her that she had the Black Death. “You mean that you led me on to help you cheat on someone?”
“No,” she shook her head. “He knows that I’m here and he supports it wholeheartedly-”
Robin had a whole spiel in her head that she always tried to use when she was telling dates this, but she almost never got it out all the way when they began to freak out. It turned out that it was going to be the same this time as it was every other time. Ashley leaned forward and spoke in a hushed voice so that none of the other patrons in the surrounding tables would be able to hear her as she said, “You know that lesbianism isn’t some gross kink for men, right? Some of us, such as myself, think that we can only be with women. I’m not going to sleep with you so that your husband can watch through your blinds or in your closet or something. That’s fucking disgusting.”
“You don’t understand,” Robin whimpered. She usually dropped it when the person she was talking to obviously wanted the conversation to end, but she had been really invested in the potential relationship she could have with Ashley. “It-it’s not like that. We’re not together romantically or sexually. We’re married and we love each other but he-he’s more like my platonic soulmate. It was like when the gods were making us or whatever he decided that I was going to love my best friend with my entire chest but only be interested in women and-”
Ashley cut her off again, “So he’s a beard? I’ve dated women like that before but it didn’t really work out.”
“No, he’s not a beard! He’s my husband,” Robin objected, frustrated. The idea of her husband only being her beard or something that was totally disposable once she found the right woman made her want to vomit. He was far more important to her than any romantic foray, so she decided that she was just going to take the hit and try again some other time. “I don’t think that this is going to work out. Thanks for trying, sorry for wasting your time.”
She fished out the proper amount of money and then set it on the table before she slung her purse over her shoulder and walked away. It was frustrating to have that happen over and over again, but she would always place her husband above any romantic or sexual encounters that she would have. It was hard to explain to people, especially with the limited vocabulary that still existed for queer people even in the mid-nineties, but it was very important to her that whatever future romantic partner she may have recognize that first and foremost, Steve was her husband.