@genderthings Robin's Gender Week Day 1, prompt: "sharing pronouns", taken literally | Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 | Ao3
T | 594 | Genderfluid/Queer Robin(&Steve) | QPR Stobin, hinted Steddie and Rovickie | Modernish AU
I'll have what they're having
"How are we feeling today?" Robin asks the mirror, squinting at it like its holding more than just a reflection of an indecisive person.
Behind, a flurry of hair and blankets raises up from the unmade bed.
"Kinda fem, honestly," Steve says. "I want to wear these star earrings."
"Ooh," Robin's eyes sparkle. "Are we doing a space theme?"
Steve hums.
"But like, the night sky. Not the nerd NASA stuff."
Robin scoffs.
"Night sky is nerdy, you doofus." With a fond eye roll, the requested earrings get laid out on their old, thrifted vanity. "With that navy shirt with purple swirlies? It kinda looks like a galaxy."
"Paisley."
"What?" Robin frowns, already pulling the mentioned shirt out of the closet.
"The pattern. It's called paisley."
"Okay, diva."
At first, Steve scoffs at the jab, but then makes a thoughtful sound.
"No, you know what? Can that be our pronouns for today? Diva/divine?"
"Hm, are we feeling more this one, then?" Robin picks up on the mood instantly, diving deeper into the closet to pull out something with sparkling, puffy sleeves.
"Hell yeah, we do!" Steve grins, rolling out of the bed to join the outfit picking. Robin is the one to end up in the paisley shirt, thrown over a thin black turtleneck. The star earrings are a part of a set, and Robin gets to wear the moon necklace that goes with them.
"So, she/they?" Steve asks, hand hovering over the finishing touch—a small pile of pronoun pins, each in two copies.
"They/she for me, please?" Robin extends their hand.
"There you go." Steve plucks out the requested pin. They're all simple black-on-white bars, easiest to match with most outfits. And get the most pronoun combinations in.
"We should really get a display banner for them," she purses her lips, putting hands on her hips.
"Ugh, yeah," Robin scrunches their nose at the messy pile of too many, too similar pins. "Do you want to go thrifting today? We could—"
"No," Steve cuts them off immediately and grabs their shoulders to turn them around and walk out of the bedroom. "Absolutely not, we don't have the money or space for more stuff."
Robin huffs but doesn't argue. They know she's right.
"I guess we could ask someone. Eddie one hundred percent has some leftover fabric lying around. He's always working on something."
Stevie hums.
"Yeah, maybe he'll even make one for us, if we ask nicely."
"Ha! He will if you ask," they correct, quickly ducking out of their friend's grasp before she can use it against them.
"Well, maybe you should ask Vickie, then," she puts her hands on her hips. "Doesn't she help in the costume department?"
Robin's eyes widen, and Stevie knows it's not about Vickie anymore.
"No. No, no, no, no, no, we'll just go to Eddie. You know what happened the last time you went into the dressing rooms."
"Uh, I got eaten out within an inch of my life by a hot actress?" they try, pouring two cups of coffee and grabbing the pastries leftover from yesterday. Breakfast of champions.
"And brought home two bags full of scraps!"
Robin makes a 'hngh' sound deep in their throat and Stevie knows, she can relate. It was piles upon piles of treasure, but it took all of their friends to get rid of. They helped to clean up, and actually make use of everything. The glitter and feathers still lingered in the corners of their bedroom.
"Fine," they sigh, settling down by the table. "We'll go to Eddie."
For @genderthings Robin Gender Week Day 1: Sharing Pronouns
T | WC: 2123 | Genderqueer Robin (and also Steve) | Gender Identity; Fluff and Humor; Period Typical Discussion of Gender | AO3
The door of the Harrington house is unlocked when Robin storms through it. The only danger it would have any hope of delaying is seven unruly and unthankful children; today especially Robin appreciates that Steve has stopped making that effort. It makes it a lot easier to storm in and pull him off the couch by the hair and drag him into the nearest bathroom.
“Ow, Robin! The part is in the mail, the truck will be running by Sunday. Ow!” He doesn’t stop complaining until she has them in her favorite full-sized bathroom with the ugly tile and jacuzzi tub.
He’s Steve, Robin’s Steve, so he doesn’t glare so much as pout as he runs a hand through his mussed-up hair, pretending that he’s tender-headed even though he knows Robin knows better. “You’re worse than Henderson, you had to bike to work one day.”
“First of all, don’t ever say that to me. But do you think I dragged you in here to talk about our truck, this is serious.”
He crosses his arms in that way that tries for bitchy but these days lands closer to fondly disgruntled. Parental, maternal, in that way that suits Steve. “Okay well seriously start talking then. I think you ripped out a clump.”
Robin takes in a breath, using the exhale to force out the thing that had worried itself in there like a burr at 11:57 that Saturday afternoon. “Someone called me sir at work.”
Robin can feel the slow track of Steve’s eyes as they take in the outfit. The wide-shouldered blazer and the pants in a different but complementary plaid pattern. Underneath is a t-shirt and, with the biking, Chuck Taylors had been a must though the thrifted, wingtip, dress shoes had called out from the closet begging to be worn instead.
“How do we feel about that?”
Always we. Steve hadn’t even been there and it’s a them problem, it’s easier to think in terms of them and we.
“She wasn’t looking at me from the front,” Robin says. That feels important to stress for some reason. Do they look like a sir from the front? Probably not, and Robin isn’t sure what the emotion that’s sitting below the breastbone at the thought of that is.
“I was reshelving in Romance and she came up behind me and was all…” Trailing off all Robin can do is gesture, flapping hands leading away from a body that has become a source of confusion.
Arms still crossed, lazily now, relaxed. Cool and lean in the way Steve can be but only when the effort is accidental. He nods. “Oh, that makes more sense.”
“What does that mean?”
Steve’s hands on their shoulders, Robin is turned toward the mirror with Steve just behind in a blink. “From the back you have the same haircut as Byers.”
“You take that back right now.” Robin watches as their mouth moves in the mirror.
“It’s better, cause you steal my product. But when you don’t let me style it, it can get a little Byers-y.”
They’re in the ugly bathroom with the seafoam green tiles that have the print that makes no sense for a bathroom but Robin loves. That’s the only reason the counter beneath their fingers is bare. That it doesn’t have the accusing army of mousse and hairspray that has been slowly infiltrating the Buckley house.
“So you’re saying since I have a Byers-y haircut-”
“Not the whole haircut, just from the back and just sometimes.”
“That’s the only reason I’d be called sir.”
Steve slouches against the wall by the mirror. There’s a careful nothingness to the way he’s looking at them that means he saw something Robin didn’t mean to show. That he heard something in the forced sarcstic lilt in her voice.
“Do you want to be called sir?” The forced casualness extends to the question.
It makes Robin feel hysterical. Get prescribed a visit to the seaside, the real remedy is a good vibrator hysterical. “I’m a lesbian, Steve. That’s- I’ve always been a lesbian, it’s the one thing- So I can’t be a sir or a he-”
“Why not?”
The guidance-counselor-calm is infuriating, even as they make that mental note to add that to the list of things Steve could be good at if he wanted a traditional job. Robin could teach music, band, they wouldn't be broken up.
“Because..? Because it’s too much, isn’t it?”
He cocks his head to the side, circling Robin and their problem carefully.
“It’s not all the time, right? We’ll share.”
“What?”
“We’ll share.” Steve repeats, moving now to settle into the massive jacuzzi tub. Lounging for real in its dry basin now that, in their mind, the problem has been solved
“I don’t think that’s how it works.” Robin has to be careful in refusing. The two of them don't disagree. Trying to do it now tastes like ash on the tongue. Bitter and wrong.
“Why not?” Steve challenges. Brow raised in a way that hints at something bitchy like the girls at the last slumber party she’d been invited to, before she was too weird, right before someone got the dare that they’d asked for.
“That’s my shirt you’re wearing and you stole my favorite jeans last week. You’ll borrow my he and I’ll take your she and it’ll be fine.”
“Those aren’t the same thing, that’s not those words mean something.” Robin pleads. Begs Steve to be rational because Robin can’t be. Biked the five miles here faster than anyone ever has. Broke landspeed records and possibly the sound barrier powered by the feelings caused by a single word.
“Yeah, I know.” Steve says gently. But it’s Steve and gentle gives way to a catty eye roll and, “I saw that kangaroo song as a kid too, he will mean Robin sometimes and she can mean Steve and other times it’s the otherway around. It’s fine, Robbie.”
It’s Steve, Robin has to remember. Always remembers because Steve is something they are as aware of as their arm or leg or spleen. Intrinsic.
Steve would burn Hawkins to the ground for them: Robin, The Party, anyone close enough to be family.
What then would it be to him? To claim Robin’s errant she. He is Steve Harrrington. Hawkin’s perfect son. The Keg King, the reformed prep. Perfect in his John Hughes-ian glory. Everything a perfect corn-fed, Midwestern boy should be.
“But it has to mean something, you can’t just say that we’ll share because you want me to feel better.”
“When have I ever lied to make you feel better? I just told you when you don’t do anything with your hair it looks like Jonathan’s.”
“Yeah, and you’re the kind of freak who understands what Nancy sees in him.”
“And it isn’t his hair. Our whole friendship is based on saying what we really think, even when it’s annoying.”
“I thought it was based on you inability to resist doing your Miss Piggy impression.”
“Robin.” The stone seriousness of it drops Robin to their knees in front of the tub. Close enough to Steve that big hands can cup their face. “I love you. This is your moment, so you'll just have to believe me when I say it's fine.”
“It's fine.” Robin repeats.
“We’ll share.” Steve says.
“We’ll share.”
“You're a sir.” she says.
“I’m a he.” Robin says, “Today. Today I'm a he.”
“How does that feel?” She asks him.
“Good? Good. Oh my god Steve I don’t know how to be a he. This isn’t stealing your red sweater-”
She shrieks, “I knew you had my sweater!”
But it isn't going to distract him from the bigger picture. “I can’t just slip into your guy thing like it’s your clothes, you know that was the point.”
Arms crossed, she pouts, “The point sounds like you’ve been stealing my clothes.”
“Steve!”
“You don’t have to be anything to prove that you are something. Sometimes you’re a he, you don’t have to know how to shotgun a beer or something to prove it. I will show you the right way to do a keg stand, that’s a point of pride. And you should know how to fix up the truck, change a tire, to help you pick up babes.”
It's not the worst point ever made. Probably because some of it -- the first part, not the part about car maintenance as a tool of seduction though that has its merits too he supposes and it has a butch quality that is appealing -- is familiar.
“I hate when you quote me at me.”
“When did you tell me you were going to teach me to change a tire?”
“You know what I mean, dingus.”
“You’re the smartest person I know,” Steve says through her smile, “how else am I supposed to give you advice?”
“I love you.” Its the truest truth Robin can come up with at the moment. So true it's an understatement. Love too simple a word for what he feels right now and about Steve.
“I love you too.” She says back, and Robin knows its the same kind of feeling. “And you’ll love me even more when I teach you how to scale a trellis.”
“Why would I need to scale anything, why can’t I just go in the door?”
“It doesn’t have the same Prince Charming feeling. Girls love that stuff.”
“How many times have you fallen off the side of someone’s house?”
“Not as many times as you’re going to, Vickie’s house is laid out like a nightmare.”
He settles into the tub next to Steve. The oversized jacuzzi a tight fit for both of their bodies, but Steve lets him settle into her side like she doesn’t care that the faucet is digging into her shoulder. In sync, Steve lifts her head up enough that Robin can rest his in the space where shoulder and neck meet. The sound of Steve’s heartbeat in his ear gives his a steady rhythm to settle into after the flustered panic it had worked its way up to. Share, they can share.
Some things they can share.
He sits up enough to look Steve in the eye, a half-hearted glare that she wouldn’t buy for a second on his face. “Why have you been scoping out Vickie's house?”
“For you, obviously.” She says, rolling her eyes just like Robin had imagined. “I had to figure out the best point of entry.”
“It's not a siege.”
“It's breaking and entering, and it's embarrassing when someone catches you and it doesn't look cool. Trust me.”
“Some more expertise that you're sharing?”
“I'll share anything with you, Bobbin.”
He hears what's underneath that promise. Their bond forged in chaos, in danger, in blood, in fear. But it was honed in moments like these: honest, sincere, still frightened sometimes but touched by love and laughter.
“Even your green henley?”
He hopes she hears how he knows that Steve would do or give anything for him. His shirt, his time, his bathroom, his life.
Whatever life may mean at that time. The actual thing, defending and protecting them all from whatever the next great evil is, or the more metaphorical life, marriage and it's safety net that they’ve discussed.
“Even all my best clothes when you have nothing in your closet you could possibly share too.”
“Welcome to the time honored tradition of girlhood, the friend that’s borrowing clothes from you is doing it for a reason. I’ll teach you how dress sizes work next time we’re at the thrift store.”
“Yeah okay, but who’s going to teach you that?”
She’s smiling as she says it, and the tub is too small a space for them to get a good fight started. Grief, the teasing kind, something they’ve always been good at sharing. So he takes his lumps and settles back down into the cradle of the tub and Steve’s arms that he moves elbows first. Let’s them share how unappreciated that dig might have been, the truth in it neither here nor there.
They’ll lay here for a little bit longer, letting the moment settle. Sharing their space, their time, their breath, and probably the gossip from his day at Family Video without Steve. When the time is right, they’ll leave the bathroom and share a meal, maybe the couch or the bed. It’s just what’s right, like Steve so often is. What’s a pronoun or two among all of that.
“I know how to find a dress that fits. Just like I know that the kangaroo song is about pronouns. How do you remember a cartoon from when we were kids but not the thing they were singing about?”
@genderthings Robin's Gender Week Day 2, prompt: "safe" with a hint of "he/him lesbians" | Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4
T | 1570 | (G)Queer/Masc/GNC Robin | poor boundaries Stobin, pining or background: Steddie, Buckingham, Argyle/Jon/Nancy | 90s/00s AU (they're baby queers), STP packers, spicy seven, kayaking with friends
[title placeholder, brain empty]
It's a fun little getaway, planned after looking through dozens of local guides, until they found the nearest kayaking place. At this point, nobody is sure whose idea it was, but after his third time in the water, Eddie is ready to blame anyone.
"Never again is Steve picking a destination. Ever!" he yells, flipping wet hair out of his face as he scouts for the nearest clearing of the river bank. If he tries climbing on the kayak again, he risks dunking Chrissy as well. And frankly, his arms are tired.
"It was actually Chrissy's idea," Steve points out, calmly floating by in his boat. Robin, sitting in front of him, hums thoughtfully.
"Not Nancy's?"
"I'm pretty sure it was Steve's," Chrissy, Eddie's last friend, sides with him.
"Whatever. Do you guys see any place where I can climb out?"
The Robin-and-Steve team dips their oars in the water, pushing ahead, while Chrissy slowly drifts with the current, and Eddie hands limply off the side of her kayak.
"There's a camping place, come on!"
Eddie groans with relief when he hears Steve's voice.
"Finally!" He channels all the leftover strength in his muscles to push himself forward and swim to the makeshift dock. He hopes at least half of their group is tired enough to vote they take a longer break, maybe even take camp for the night. Surely his wet clothes deserve some pity.
The only plus of being in the water is not balancing on the wobbly vessel of a boat and trying to step on the dock. Eddie watches as Steve exits first with barely any grace and then helps Robin and Chrissy. When the girls are securing their kayaks to the pier, he helps Eddie climb on the dock as well.
"Thanks, man," he sighs, collapsing onto the old boards. "As much as I hate the Sun, I surely appreciate it right now," he grumbles, closing his eyes. He can feel his wet clothes steaming in the summer heat.
He yelps when something hits his face
"Dry yourself off, dude," Steve says.
He tentatively opens one eye, shielding his face with what turns out to be a towel. Not his, though, Harrington's. But he doesn't dare question it.
"Uh, thanks."
They flag down Nancy, Argyle and Jonathan, who are lagging behind while Jon takes nature shots, and together they agree it's time for a break. Eddie undresses happily, to leave his wet clothes in the sun, and wraps Steve's fluffy towel around himself.
"I gotta pee," Robin announces to the public, and Eddie's head snaps up to meet Chrissy's startled gaze.
Girls pee together, right? He tries to telepathically tell her to take the chance and offer her services, whatever they might be. Eddie isn't that well versed in female rituals and even less in girl-on-girl courtship.
"You coming?"
Chrissy almost opens her mouth to answer, but as she and Eddie look at Robin, they find her looking at someone else.
"You still need help?" Steve bitches back at her, but drops the bag he's been going through.
"Maybe," she answers half defensively, crossing her arms.
"Fine." Steve shrugs, following her towards the dilapidated toilets in the far end of the clearing.
Seeing those, Eddie thanks the gods for being born with a dick. He can just find a secluded, clean bush later.
"Well, I guess that makes sense," Chrissy murmurs as the two best friends walk away to pee in tandem. Eddie has to agree—even a bathroom door couldn't stop these two from bitching about their current job or a failed date, apparently.
He's focusing on detangling his drying hair with the brush Chrissy hands him, when he hears a loud lough that makes him look up. Just as expected, he can see his friends continuously talking while peeing by the line of tall weeds behind the toilets.
It doesn't register at first, but eventually, he does a double take.
"Do you see what I'm seeing?" he asks without looking at his friend, too afraid the sight before his eyes could vanish if he turned his head.
"What are you seeing?" Chrissy picks up without much thought, and as she follows his line of sights, it also takes her a moment to register what the issue is. "Huh."
"Yeah," Eddie nods, glad he's not losing his mind. "Does Robin—? You know."
"I don't know," Chrissy answers to whatever Eddie had in mind.
They both watch as Robin looks down to Steve's dick where, assuming from the motion of his shoulders, he's shaking it off, and mirrors the same movement with whatever is between her...his?...legs.
The unbreakable duo seems to be zipping up their pants so Eddie turns hastily to his best friend.
"Should we ask about it?" he whispers heatedly, eyes darting worriedly to see how much time they have left before they risk getting overheard.
"I don't think it's polite?" Chrissy cracks her knuckles nervously and he reaches out to stop her.
"Yeah, but it's not like they're hiding?" he points out. Whatever the deal is, Robin could have used the toilets, or go further away not to be seen.
"I guess so..." Chrissy trails off. She's playing with Eddie's fingers now, squeezing them beyond the comfortable levels of pain, but he lets it slide for now. "I mean, asking means we care, right?"
Eddie doesn't know the intricacies of gender issues that well, but nods his head nevertheless.
"Probably?" is all he can offer. Then, the Robin and Steve duo is walking back, and the Cali threesome is at the dock, and they aren't sure what would be a good timing to ask.
Steve holds his hands up to him and Eddie knows they were holding his dick minutes ago. He wants to bury his face in them.
He obviously doesn't register what Steve says, but Chrissy is the best and presses hand sanitizer into his palm. Eddie quickly gets the clue and squirts a generous amount on his friend's extended hands.
"Thank you," Steve smiles, rubbing the gel between his fingers. Without a word, Robin holds out her hands too, so Eddie squeezes out some for them as well.
"Hey, Robbie?" Chrissy pipes up, the brave girl. Eddie is too focused on the sounds the sanitizing gel makes between Steve's fingers. "If there's anything we should know, you can safely tell us, we won't judge."
"Yeah," Eddie nods.
"I mean, we're friends with Eddie."
"Yeah!" he nods more vigorously. "And don't forget the throuple over there," he throws a thumb at where their friends are unpacking their paddle boat.
Robin's face falls, going pale in the process as well. Eddie can sense his friend's panic so he squeezes her knee, letting her know she didn't do anything wrong.
Similarly, Steve lays a hand on Robin's shoulder. It calms down their jittering, and they look up to see the rest of their group arriving to the clearing.
"Well, since everyone is here," they murmur, inching closer to their best friend. Steve dutifully wraps his arm around his platonic soulmate for support. He gets elbowed for his efforts but miraculously, reads it as the call for help that it is.
He coughs, motioning for the last three to join.
"A quick group meeting, guys!" Steve calls out, calm as a cucumber so the others know no inter-dimensional demons are lurking in the shadows.
"What's up?" Nancy asks, leading the boys behind her.
"Rob has something to share," he says, nudging his friend gently.
"Uh, yeah," Robin stammers. "So you know how boys can pee easily wherever they want, right?" they ask somewhat rethoretically, but a few of them nod in acknowledgment. "So, I got a stand to pee packer, which is a silicone dick with peeing option, usually used by trans guys," Robin explains, avoiding everyone's gaze. "It was for convenience at first, but the more I thought about it and talked with Steve," their friend squeezes them tighter when mentioned in the rant, "while he was teaching me the intricacies of using a dick and keeping me company on bathroom breaks, I realized…" They take a quick breath. "It's actually nice to be perceived as a guy."
The silence stretches, but before it can get uncomfortable, Chrissy speaks up.
"So, how do you want to be addressed?" she asks.
"Uh, Robin is already gender-neutral, so I like that," Robin says. "And when it comes to pronouns, I don't think I mind any? He, she, they, all sound okay to me. The only thing, I still consider myself a lesbian?" Robin admits hesitantly. "Like, it's a community I feel comfortable in and associate with, and it might sound wrong when I'm—"
"Hey." Nancy stops them with a raise of her palm. "I don't think it's that weird, you don't have to explain. You just wouldn't want your relationship with a woman to be considered heterosexual, yeah?"
"Yeah," Robin smiles, relieved to be understood. "That's a part of it."
"So can I call you bro?" Argyle pipes up, to which Nancy scoffs.
"You call me bro all the time!" she points out.
"Yeah, but like, as a pet-name, you know?"
Everyone not involved in their little polycule look at them curiously. They are used to the weirdness, but every time something like this pops up, it's weirder than the last one.
"Yeah, do not call me bro," Robin decides quickly.
@genderthings Robin's Gender Week Day 3, no prompts I'm just continuing from the last day | Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4
Masc Genderqueer Robin | T | 343 | Pre-Steddie, Eddie being dramatic, Just silly shit
"Robin, we need to have a serious talk."
They look wary at first, and glance at their best friend, but Steve shrugs, not deeming Eddie a threat.
"Like, right now...?" he looks around at all their friends gathered in the clearing, eating sandwiches and drinking beers.
Eddie nods, standing up. Robin quickly shoves the last bite of his sandwich into his mouth and follows, grabbing the beer Steve hands over.
They follow a small path down the river, drinking their beers without speaking. Once they can't hear their friends anymore, Robin speaks up cautiously.
"So, what is it?"
Eddie takes a deep breath.
"Why are you stealing my time with Steve's dick?"
"Excuse me?" Robin makes a half-disgusted, half-confused face, freezing in place. Eddie makes another step before he stops and turns around, crossing his arms.
"Bathroom breaks were literally the only time to catch him without you. It was our little guy time," he sighs deeply.
Robin scoffs, also crossing their arms.
"Or you could just ask him out?" he suggests dryly.
"I don't—!" No," Eddie huffs. "It's not like that." His arms only tighten around his chest.
Robin rolls her eyes but doesn't argue.
"Well, you can ask him to hang out not like that, too. It's not like we're attached at the hip twenty-four-seven, you're just not shooting your shot."
"Ouch, Buckley." Eddie clutches at his heart like he's been stung. "That's a second hit in one day, do you want me to keel over?"
"Yes," Robin deadpans, and Eddie staggers on his feet. Assuming the main point of the conversation is over, they turn around to go back to the clearing. "And if you really just want to ogle Steve's dick while he's peeing, then you can always join us!"
Eddie makes a choked sound behind them as they are retreating.
"Critical hit!" he wheezes, then a thud of knees hitting the ground can be heard.
Robin shakes their head in disbelief, because they know this is actually working on Steve. If only one of them asked the other out.
@genderthings Robin's Gender Week Day 4 but if I was really stubborn I could say pants get mentioned once and that was yesterdays prompt so. Same universe as days 2 and 3 | Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 | Ao3
Masc/GQ Robin | T | 620 | (queer)platonic Hellcheer | there is no Robin in this just Hellcheer being gross about their crushes. A little hint of fwb if you squint
Eddie's old bed frame squeaks again, and the covers keep rustling, slowly driving him insane.
"Please go the fuck to sleep," he hisses at the ceiling, eyes shut while he's trying to strangle his friend with the power of his mind.
"I can't!" Chrissy whispers from above, and when he opens one eye, her head is hanging off the bed. He sighs.
"Well, since you can't sleep anyway, why don't you take the floor?" he suggests, voice dry like sandpaper.
"No." She rolls herself protectively into the blanket, back to the center of the bed. As if he would push his best friend off the mattress.
Well, now that he thought of it...
Eddie sighs. They should have just taken the pull-out, swap with Wayne for the night.
"What's bothering your blonde head so much that it won't let you, and therefore me, sleep?" he asks with the last of his patience.
Chrissy sighs wistfully, and he knows what's coming next.
"Girls," she says out of habit, before correcting herself hesitantly: "Uh, semi-girls."
"So, Robin."
"Yeah," she sighs, somewhat even more forlorn.
"And what did he do this time?" Eddie asks. "Wore a tie again? Kicked out a shitty customer?" That, even he had to admit was hot.
"No," Chrissy whines, shuffling on the bed some more. She better not be getting horny on his bed. Without him.
"Well, you wanna share?"
She sighs, and it better be good with how she's stalling with the answer.
"He wore these, these tight ass jeans, literally tight-ass, everything visible, the rolled up boxer legs and the, the..."
"The dick?" Eddie finishes helpfully.
"Yeah," she sighs. Again.
"Chrissy, for the love of Satan, please do not think about dicks while in my bed, okay? I just washed these sheets for you." And he doesn't do that for everyone. Steve has to sleep in his sweat, but he does have a hidden agenda with that, to be painfully honest.
"Well, that's why I'm wearing a liner, so fuck off."
Eddie gives up on sleep and sits up at that.
"You came into my bed fully expecting to get horny? Ew. Gross, Chrissy," he scolds her, and immediately gets a pillow in the face.
"I always wear them for sleepovers, you idiot. It's called common decency. Bet you leave all your—"She flaps her hand in the air. "Whatever, wherever you sleep."
The room is nearly pitch black, but it's easy to imagine her disgusted frown. He's seen it many times now.
"Duh," he rolls his eyes. "It's called marking territory."
Thankfully, Chrissy doesn't have any more pillows to hit him with.
"Disgusting," is all she says, but he only grins wider.
"Bet you'd like Robin to mark your territory, huh?"
He thinks he's safe with all the pillows in his possession, but then he gets boinked in the head with something else, though still soft.
"Lupus!" he gasps, darting for the small wolf mascot Wayne got him when he was a wee boy. When he's sitting back up again, he gets hit with a pillow Chrissy must have recovered when he had his back turned. "Playing dirty, I see?" he huffs. "Does that mean you don't want to talk about Robin's dick anymore?"
"Yeah, I'm good," she answers dryly. "All horniness gone, thank you Eddie." She finally settles into the bed with the intention to sleep, and not hump his mattress. "Goodnight."
"Goodnight," Eddie sigh with relief, pressing Lupus to his chest before settling back into his nest on the floor.
"Goodnight indeed," Wayne murmurs all annoyed from his couch in the living room.
The two friends snicker into their pillows. It's his own stupid rule to leave the door cracked open, after all.
Some flavor of genderqueer Robin | Prompts: bigender, gender euphoria, sharing clothes, coming out | T | wc: 689 | Platonic soulmates Stobin, Steve’s along for the ride, coming out, binding, Robins supportive parents
Dick Undercover | @fuctacles
Masc/GQ Robin | Prompt: pants | T | 620 | (queer)platonic Hellcheer | there is no Robin in this just Hellcheer being gross about their crushes. A little hint of fwb if you squint
Dick Talk | @fuctacles
Masc Genderqueer Robin | no prompts | T | 343 | Pre-Steddie, Eddie being dramatic, Just silly shit
*insert dick joke* | @fuctacles
(G)Queer/Masc/GNC Robin | Prompts: safe, he/him lesbians | T | 1570 | | poor boundaries Stobin, pining or background: Steddie, Buckingham, Argyle/Jon/Nancy | 90s/00s AU (they're baby queers), STP packers, spicy seven, kayaking with friends
never anything but sharing | @formosusiniquis
Genderqueer Robin (and also Steve) | Prompt: Sharing Pronouns | T | WC: 2123 | Gender Identity; Fluff and Humor; Period Typical Discussion of Gender | AO3
I'll have what they're having | @fuctacles
Genderfluid/Queer Robin(&Steve) | Prompt: sharing pronouns | T | 594 | QPR Stobin, hinted Steddie and Rovickie | Modernish AU
