Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“That movie’s pretty scary so I wouldn’t recommend watching it alone.” Steve slid a VHS tape across the counter, cracking a roguish smile for the pretty girl with ash blonde hair who had just checked out A Nightmare on Elm Street. Robin watched surreptitiously from the rom com section as Steve pulled his favorite move of late: keeping his fingertips rested on the VHS a moment longer than necessary, to the effect that when the girl went to take the VHS from him, their fingers brushed against each other. Steve referred to it as “engineering a romantic moment.” Robin referred to it as “fingering.” She suppressed a snort of laughter as Steve gazed goofily into his victim’s eyes, waiting expectantly for a swoon to register on the girl’s face. 

Instead, she said matter-of-factly, “That’s why I’ll be watching it with my boyfriend.” She jerked a thumb behind her, and Robin watched Steve’s smile falter as he made eye contact with a tall guy in a brown leather jacket leaning against a Jeep Cherokee outside the front window. The girl with the ash blonde hair observed the suddenly crestfallen Steve with an expression of equal parts guilt and amusement. Slipping the VHS tape into her purse, she turned on her heel and walked out the door of Family Video. Robin allowed Steve a moment of respite before she pounced. 

“Are we on Elm Street?” She asked innocently, walking behind the rental counter with her hands clasped behind her back. 

“Don’t say it—“ Steve began, anticipating the ridicule that was coming.

“—because I just witnessed a nightmare,” Robin finished, undeterred. 

Steve made an irritated sound in the back of his throat and self-consciously ran a hand through his shiny, coiffed hair, as if confused as to why it hadn’t worked its old magic. 

“And man, was it gory.” Robin added helpfully. 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Steve waved her off, watching the couple climb into the Jeep together and pull out of the parking lot. “I’ll nail it one of these times. I just have to turn up the Harrington charm.” 

“And stop The Creation of Adam-ing them,” Robin suggested. 

“Huh?” Steve turned away from the front window to look at her, face scrunched up in total bemusement.

“Stop fingering them, Steve,” Robin clarified, waggling her fingers and eyebrows simultaneously. 

Steve threw up his hands in exasperation. “The fact that you can’t handle the word boobies but you say fingering with ease is just incomprehensible to me.”

“Lots of things are incomprehensible to you, Steve. Honestly, I thought you’d be used to the feeling.” 

Steve ignored the barb and returned to the earlier point, “I’m telling you, Robin, someday soon I’m gonna brush fingertips with a girl—” 

“—over a VHS tape.” Robin interjected. 

“Yes, over a VHS tape—ideally something romantic, maybe John Hughes, whatever—and she’s gonna feel a jolt of electricity, and I’m gonna feel it, too. And we’re gonna look at each other—” Steve acted out the moment, bowing his head and slowly looking up from the floor, a dreamy expression on his face, “—and we’re both gonna both realize that we’re looking at the love of our life.” Steve finished, self-satisfied, and leaned back against the counter with his arms crossed over his chest. “But we’ll go on a date first, of course—just to confirm,” he added thoughtfully. 

Robin smirked and mirrored her friend, leaning against the counter with arms crossed. “You know, Steve, it seems like you’ve given this a lot of thought. I hate to say this, but I’m worried that you’re spending too little time working and too much time thinking about fingering the customers. This is a family establishment, after all.” 

Steve laughed despite himself. “You’ve gotta help me out here, Robin. We both know you’re not working, either—you just shelved Scarface in the rom com section.”

Robin looked over her shoulder and found that she had, in fact, shelved Scarface between Romancing the Stone and Sixteen Candles. She turned back to Steve with a shrug: “It’s breaking barriers in the genre.” 

“My point is—” Steve threw his arms open wide, “I would like less judgment from the peanut gallery and more uncritical support. Please, if you can.” 

Robin was just about to explain why it would be so difficult to offer such uncritical support when she was cut off by the soft tinkle of the bell attached to the front door. 

Immediately, she and Steve straightened up and turned toward the counter, ready to greet the new customer. Robin heard Steve say—in a voice a register lower than his actual one—“Welcome to Family Video. Anything I can help you find today?” In normal circumstances, Robin would’ve sniggered and watched with raised eyebrows as Steve swung for the fences with another girl. This time, however, Steve’s lowered voice reached her as if from a great distance. She didn’t even crack a smile. Instead, she found herself immobilized as she stared at the girl who had just walked through the door.

You pondered the question. Your plan had been to slip quietly into the video store and wander aimlessly from shelf to shelf until you found something half-interesting. What you hadn’t expected was to be the only customer in the entire place, with the undivided attention of both of its employees. The one who had posed the question, a fairly handsome guy with shiny hair and a deep voice, had a slightly deranged look in his eyes, as if a lot rested on your answer. Despite the apparent gravity of the situation, you shrugged. “I guess I’m looking for something that will make me laugh. Any recommendations?” 

The guy’s face lit up, and he opened his mouth to speak, but the other employee cut him off. “—Oh, sure, we’ve got lots of stuff to make you laugh. Tons, like oodles.” You watched as she awkwardly sidestepped in front of the boy, edging him out of his central position behind the rental counter. She made a vague shooing motion in his direction, and he took a couple steps back, his hand moving up to cover his mouth. You could’ve sworn he was suppressing laughter. 

“—Almost too much really,” the girl continued, talking fast, “They could use some genre diversification here.” Abruptly, she stopped talking. You watched as she gulped, her wide eyes darting nervously to the floor and then up to your face again. You stared back at her. 

She was pretty—and obviously nervous—though what about you weren’t sure. New to the job, maybe? She had chin-length, light brown hair that looked almost golden under the store’s soft fluorescent lighting. Her cheeks were splashed with faint freckles that gave a summery warmth to her face in stark contrast to the cool autumn weather outside. She wore an oversized plaid blazer, a mismatched plaid button-up, and a too-long gray tie under her green Family Video vest. On anyone else, it might’ve been a strange combination, but on her, it somehow worked. 

Now that you were both looking at each other, you began to feel nervous, too. You felt heat creep into your cheeks as you struggled to form a response in your mind. Mercifully, she broke the silence. “Anyways,” she said, drawing out the vowels as if trying to put as much distance as possible between this new stream of thought and her musings on the excess of Family Video’s comedic offerings, “I can definitely help you out, is what I was getting at.” She gave you a tight, almost pained smile, her cheeks now pink. 

Appearing to realize that she had entirely forgotten to answer your question, she quickly followed up with: “What’s a comedy that you like? So I can get a better idea of your taste.” 

“Hmmm.” You broke eye contact with the girl, looking upwards as you spun the ring of your keychain around your index finger. What if this pair of unusually attractive video store employees judged you for your taste? If they made fun of you, you could always just never come back. You were sure there were other video stores even in this small town, though you hadn’t driven by another one yet in the month since you’d moved here. “Well, I like Tootsie, 9 to 5, Airplane. Does that help?” You lowered your gaze back to the girl to gauge her reaction. 

Her face was completely blank. Two long seconds passed. Then, haltingly, she said, “…Yes. I definitely have a recommendation for you…based on those movies.” She hoisted herself up to sit on the counter, spun around, and hopped off the other side. 

“Uhhh…great,” you said, watching her with interest and a touch of surprise. Despite the anxiety and stiffness in her voice, her movements were graceful and confident—cool, even. She gestured for you to follow her deeper into the store. You shrugged your tote bag more securely over your shoulder and walked forward to join her. 

The other employee assumed an amused expression and began sorting through a stack of VHS tapes on the counter. When you passed by him, he held up his hand beside his mouth and said in a faux-whisper, “You can trust her. She’s our Employee of the Month.” With his other hand, he gave a firm thumbs up before glancing over to his coworker to see her reaction. Your eyes followed his. For a split second, she looked both mortified and murderous. When she noticed you were looking at her again, however, her expression became instantly placid. 

You chuckled at their covert banter, coming to a stop beside the girl in front of a shelf in the comedy section. She had been right; it was easily the best-represented genre in the store. The girl stared hard at the shelf, unmoving. You began to feel conscious of the few inches between your shoulder and hers and to wonder whether you had stood too close. She smelled nice, like bittersweet citrus and something woodier. You instantly felt creepy for having inadvertently sniffed her and—as penance—stopped breathing through your nose entirely.

Suddenly, the girl’s hand shot out, and she plucked a VHS tape from the shelf eye-level with her. Without saying anything, she pivoted on her heel to face you and handed you the VHS. 

Fast Times at Ridgemont High. You cocked an eyebrow. You had never seen Fast Times at Ridgemont High , though you had certainly heard of it—mostly from your friends back home who “partoke,” so to speak. You smiled imperceptibly, mystified, as you looked down at the VHS, wondering how the girl had departed from Tootsie, 9 to 5, and Airplane and arrived at this stoner comedy. You only smoked occasionally, but maybe your alternative style had suggested otherwise. What the hell—it’s not like you were a movie snob. You just wanted something to make you laugh, like you’d said. You lowered the quizzical eyebrow and looked back up at the girl, who appeared to be holding her breath. You grinned at her, “Final answer?” 

She visibly relaxed when you smiled, letting out a breath. “Yes!” She answered, suddenly confident, “You’ll love it, I promise.” She appeared to reconsider that promise for a moment, but then reaffirmed, “…Yeah, you’ll love it.” 

“Cool,” you said. “I’m ready to check out, then.” 

“And I’m ready to check you out,” the girl said immediately. Her expression turned horrified, “—check out your movie!” She clarified, unnecessarily. Despite her assurance, her eyes flitted from your feet up to your face, lingering for a second too long on where the hem of your leather shorts met your sheer black tights. You felt yourself growing hot, and noticed with amusement that you weren’t the only one—the girl’s face was beet red. 

You laughed awkwardly and gestured toward the counter, “After you…Employee of the Month.” She let out a high-pitched laugh and walked quickly back to the counter, hoisting herself over the edge with a little less grace than before. You followed her and set the VHS on the countertop. 

“What have we got here?” The other employee spun around, planting his hands on either side of Fast Times at Ridgemont High. He raised his eyebrows, then glanced over at the girl who had helped you. He was smirking, and looked on the verge of making some kind of quip, but he just said, “Great choice, Robin.” 

The girl, whose name was apparently Robin, clapped her hands together as if to forestall anything else that the boy might have to say, and began to address you. “So! I uh, haven’t seen you in the store before. Did you move here recently, or just discover the existence of movies, or…” 

You gave a genuine laugh at that. “Oh, both, actually. Apparently, I have a few decades worth of cinema to catch up on. And, really, what better way to start than with the masterpiece that is sure to be Fast Times at Ridgemont High ?” Robin snorted, her eyes twinkling with amusement; the VHS tape sat idly on the counter between you both. “But really,” you continued, clearing your throat, “my family and I moved here last month, just in time for the school year. I don’t know that many people around here yet, so I thought I’d rent some movies to pass the time.” You felt a little embarrassed for having admitted to having practically no friends in Hawkins, but it was the truth. Besides the odd conversation about homework, you’d mainly kept to yourself in school. You usually just didn’t know what to say to people—or couldn’t get the words out in a way that you liked—but for some reason, you felt at ease in this practically deserted Family Video. 

If Robin and the other employee were deterred by your loser status, they didn’t show it. The boy flashed a winning smile. “Hey, well, welcome to Hawkins. I’m Steve. I graduated from Hawkins High last year, but Robin here,” he squeezed Robin’s shoulder, “is still a student. I’m sure she could show you around school, Hawkins, and the last half century of cinema.” 

You glanced over at Robin for her reaction; that seemed like a lot to commit someone to, especially someone who you had just met five minutes ago. “Oh, that’s very nice, but–” 

Robin cut you off. “Yeah, I could definitely be your guide to all things Hawkins. I mean, all things Hawkins is pretty much just shallow suburbanites and deep cornfields, though. We did have a mall—” she shot Steve a meaningful look, “—but it burned down this past summer, so now pretty much the only thing to do is—” 

“Watch movies?” you finished for her. 

She snapped her fingers and pointed at you, “Watch movies,” she confirmed. 

You liked Robin, you decided. She had a kind of nervous energy that made you feel counterintuitively calm. You felt nervous most of the time, but you usually kept it hidden with the impenetrable silence that your parents had advised you to ditch if you wanted to make any friends in Hawkins. To see that someone else was nervous, too—it was comforting. 

As if suddenly remembering it was there, Robin fumbled to check out the movie, then held the case out to you. You reached out your hand to take it from her, and your fingers overlapped for a moment over the VHS. You looked up at Robin as you gently pulled your hand away—your fingers brushing against hers, feeling briefly the cool metal of the ring on her index finger—and returned the shy smile she gave you. 

Robin was the first to break eye contact, her eyes darting down as her hand drew back to rest on the countertop. Still looking at Robin, you paid for the movie and nestled Fast Times at Ridgemont High safely among the folds of a sweater in your tote bag. “Thank you,” you said. 

“For what?” Robin asked automatically, looking somewhat startled. You could already see the comprehension dawning on her face—her mouth working just slightly faster than her brain—but you answered anyway. 

“For checking me out,” you said, laughter permeating your voice. Robin winced, though you hadn’t meant to make fun of her. You took on a more earnest tone, “Anyway, I would really appreciate a guide to Hawkins, if you’re willing—or just a friend, I mean,” you added, worried the request might have sounded too transactional. 

She lit up. “Yeah, for sure! I will be your Virgil, taking you through the nine circles of hell that is Hawk—” The other employee laid a hand on Robin’s shoulder and she changed tact mid-sentence, trading her dramatic analogy for a benign, “I’d be happy to.” 

The other employee cut in. “And let us know how that movie works out for you, huh?” 

“Yeah, will do.” Though you were aware that your purpose for being inside the video store was technically fulfilled, you lingered in front of the counter for a second longer. Your gaze fell to Robin, who was running her thumb over the ring on her index finger, twisting it back and forth, her hand clenched in a fist on the countertop. You regarded her curiously. 

“See you around, Virgil,” you said, your mouth quirking up into a teasing smile. Robin laughed—probably a little louder than your joke had deserved. She wiggled her fingers in a gesture of farewell, looking at you with a disbelieving kind of expression. Acknowledging Steve with a kind nod, you made your way out of Family Video, the bell tinkling your departure.

***

“You have got to be kidding me. You have got to be fucking kidding me,” Steve exclaimed, throwing his hands up in exasperation as he paced in a wide circle around the counter. “I mean, yes, it was extremely cute to watch—almost sickening, really—but did you have to do it with my move? It’s never worked for me, but the first time you try it—bam!—romantic moment engineered.” 

Robin had a dreamy expression on her face, her chin resting between the palms of her hands, her elbows resting on the countertop. Her eyes lazily followed Steve as he passed in front of her again. “What can I say, Harrington? You pioneered it; I perfected it.” Steve snorted in indignation, muttering something about a lack of justice in the world. “And besides,” Robin went on, “I didn’t engineer anything. It just happened.” Judging by the noise he made, this seemed to rankle him even more. Robin knew he wasn’t actually angry, though. 

“All right,” Steve huffed, stopping abruptly and crossing his arms tightly across his chest. “I’m your friend, and I have to give credit where credit is due. You’ve bested me in the art of fingering.” 

Robin wrinkled her nose in disgust. “Ew, gross, Steve.” 

“Oh, so now it’s not okay?!”

Chapter Text

By the next day, some of the giddiness had begun to wear off. In its place, doubt crept in. 

“I mean, when it comes down to it, I literally just rented out a goofy movie to her. She was in here for five minutes max,” Robin reasoned. It was Friday afternoon, and the store was busy. Robin and Steve spoke in hushed voices, interrupting their conversation every few minutes to greet a customer or check out a movie. 

“I don’t know, it felt a little flirty to me,” Steve insisted for the third time that hour. “And you didn’t just check out a movie for her. You also offered to be her guide around Hawkins. Not to mention you’ll probably see her in school on Monday. Lots of opportunities for further interaction.” 

“You mean you offered me to be her guide around Hawkins,” Robin reminded him. 

Steve shrugged. “I came in for the assist, that’s all.” 

He spun around to grin at a couple who had arrived at the countertop with Alien and The Thing and began to check them out. “Sci-fi fans, huh?” Steve grasped at his chest and contorted his face in apparent agony. With his other hand, he punched out from his chest. He made his face go slack and rolled his eyes back in his head. 

Robin rolled her eyes, too. It was physically painful to watch. The couple glanced at each other, then back to Steve, who was now holding the two movies out to them with the hand that had just seconds ago been a xenomorph. He searched their faces, looking for some sign of recognition. “Yeah, thanks, man,” the guy said, gingerly taking the movies from Steve as if afraid he would start miming again. 

Steve hadn’t given up yet. “Come on, the chestburster scene,” he offered hopefully. He glanced back at Robin for help, who quickly busied herself with typing gibberish into the computer. 

“We haven’t seen the movie yet,” the guy explained, giving Steve a weird look. The woman next to him tittered. A few agonizing seconds later, they were walking out of the store. 

Steve rounded on Robin. “Where were you with the assist?” 

“It was unsalvageable,” Robin deadpanned. 

Steve pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. “I didn’t use to be like this. I was cool, once.” 

“That must have been before I met you.” 

“Oh, ha ha,” Steve said bitterly. 

Robin turned away from the computer and fixed him with a serious look. “I mean, you were cool. But you were also an asshole. So…” She held her hands palm up, alternately lifting them up and down like a scale. When Steve didn’t respond, she said, “Steve, half your friends are children who play D&D. It was only a matter of time before you started knowing what a xenomorph was. Acting it out for customers though…” she burst into laughter, remembering Steve’s performance, “...that’s all you.” 

“Okay, enough about me,” Steve snapped, splaying his hands out in surrender. “We were talking about you. What are you gonna do about this girl?” 

Robin’s laughter died out. She sighed, twisting her ring back and forth. “I’m not gonna do anything, Steve. Did you realize that we didn’t even get her name yesterday? I didn’t ask! I have no idea who she is, I don’t have her number, I don’t know what grade she’s in.” She paused, “And she’s probably straight,” she added, lowering her voice. 

“You can ask her all of that stuff when she comes back. Well, most of that stuff. And she has to come back, to return the movie.” Steve directed a family toward the store’s collection of Scooby-Doo, Where Are You! episodes. He returned to the counter humming the theme song. “Speaking of that movie…” 

“Ugh, I know,” Robin buried her face in her hands, “I panicked. My mind was blank. There was just Mr. Hand saying ‘I don’t know’ over and over again in my head. And Phoebe Cates. I don’t even remember what comedies she said she liked.” 

Steve laughed. “Don’t worry about it; the movie’s hysterical. And besides, it’ll be a good litmus test.” He leaned in close to Robin, “It’s already established for us that Vickie likes boobies.” Robin mimed gagging herself. “Now we’ll just have to see if your mystery girl does, too.”

“Do you realize how dumb that—” Robin whirled around, plastering on a smile to point a man rapping his knuckles on the countertop in the direction of Halloween II . Robin turned back around, the smile dropping from her face instantly. “ So obnoxious.” 

“Every customer is a treasure,” Steve reminded her, waggling an admonishing finger. 

Robin ignored him. Steve checked out Amadeus to a woman that Robin recognized as a teacher at Hawkins Middle School. He then turned back to her. “How are things with Vickie, anyway? Any updates?” 

Robin didn’t look at him, keeping her focus on the pile of VHS tapes that she was organizing into three stacks. “Not really. Well, on Tuesday we were putting on our band uniforms and she asked me to hand her her shako because I was closer to it. And I did.” She sucked in a breath. “Well, I dropped it, actually, because I hadn’t been expecting her to talk to me. But then I caught it—by the chinstrap.” She mimed swiping something out of midair, looking wistful. 

Steve looked at her blankly. “What the hell is a shako?” 

“It’s a hat for marching band. Ours have got huge feathers on them.” 

“Ohhh, those.” Steve waved goodbye to a group of girls around their age who had left the store without buying anything. “Well, that’s…good?” There was obvious uncertainty in his voice.

Robin groaned, disassembling her stacks of VHS tapes and beginning five new stacks. Steve almost asked her what she was doing when he realized she wasn’t organizing the movies at all, just putting them in random order. “It’s not anything, really,” Robin admitted. “I get so nervous when I’m around her that everything feels like a big deal. But I literally just handed her a hat—badly.” 

“Hey, hey, hey,” Steve said softly, noticing the resignation creeping into Robin’s voice. “I’m sure it wasn’t that bad. And now you’ve got another prospect, too, so…” 

Steve watched as Robin smoothed out her stacks again. “Come on, you heard her, Steve. She said she wanted a friend. Just a friend.” 

“You can be a good friend,” Steve cut in, nudging her gently. “A great friend. And you know what they say: the best relationships start as friendships.” 

Robin rolled her eyes. “Yeah, you’re right, Steve. You aren’t cool anymore.” Steve opened his mouth to respond but was cut off by an elderly couple ready to check out. Seeing a guy out of the corner of her eye who looked to be on the verge of asking a question, Robin tried to make herself look busy, squinting at a VHS tape as if lost in thought about how to categorize it. The man slipped behind a shelf. 

When they had both finished their equally pressing tasks, they turned back to each other. “Okay, I get the message, we’ll stop talking about it,” Steve offered. “Now we’ll just wait for your…” 

“Dante,” Robin suggested, cringing slightly at the memory of her reference to the epic poem.

Steve accepted it, though Robin had a suspicion he had no idea what the reference was to. “Now we’ll just wait for your Dante to reappear.” 

*** 

You had watched Fast Times at Ridgemont High on Thursday, the very same night you checked it out. You had spent the next two and a half days thinking about Robin the Family Video employee. 

It wasn’t until Sunday that you forced yourself to go back to Family Video, to compare the girl you had thought about all weekend to the real thing. As you drove to the video store, you reflected on your time in Hawkins and on how it might soon change. You weren’t totally sure how to feel about the prospect of finally having a friend here. You had barely talked to your classmates at Hawkins High, had barely wanted to. You were aware that you would probably be happier with friends, but you didn’t make friends easily. It had taken years for you to build meaningful relationships back home. Now, you were in a new place with an entirely new slate of people, and only a year to get to know them both before you went to college. Sometimes you found yourself wondering whether there was even any point. 

Your trip to Family Video had made you feel like maybe there was a point. Robin and Steve were friendly and funny and their kindness toward you had felt genuine. Steve had already graduated, but in Robin there was the possibility of having someone to talk to at school: to meet up with after class, to sit with at lunch, to complain about teachers and assignments and other students. Although you hadn’t wanted to admit it, you were lonely in Hawkins; you needed a friend. 

But there was something about Robin that had seemed more than friendly. On Thursday, you were sure she had checked you out. You thought of the way she had looked you up and down, her red face, her sheepish expression. If she was a boy, you would’ve guessed with some certainty that she thought you were cute. But she wasn’t a boy, so it wasn’t that simple. By Sunday, you were starting to wonder whether you had imagined it. She had seemed so nervous around you—awkward in a way that you couldn’t help but find endearing—but you had just met her, you reminded yourself; it was possible she was that way around everyone. All the same, you couldn’t shake the image of the shy smile she had given you when your fingers had brushed against each other at the checkout counter. You couldn’t forget it, but you knew you couldn’t dwell on it, either—not if you wanted a friend. 

You’d been overthinking it—and distorting reality in the process. She was just a pretty, anxious girl. And she was straight—that was the most likely scenario. You set yourself on being Robin’s friend, but in the corner of your mind you allowed some curiosity to remain, and you tucked the electric feeling of her slender fingers against yours there with it. 

You turned into the Family Video parking lot and pulled into a space. You could see Robin and Steve at the counter through the front window, talking to each other. Steeling yourself, you turned off your car and hopped out, Fast Times clutched in your hand.