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spicysix · 11 months

Text

now i don't hate California after all

“They arrived at the beginning of fall, and yet California was sunny, hot, and colorful. Jonathan saw it all gray. He hated the sun, the heat, the dryness. Hated how he was always sweating, bothered about the weather, about the place, about the people. Everyone was so nice, and cheerful, and happy. He hated it. He was miserable. Argyle was nice and cheerful and happy. He was sunny and warm and colorful. Jonathan hated him at first.”

rating: T

warnings/tags: it's a Jargyle fic, friends - there's weed. jonathan's POV, bisexual king johnny-boy byers, black cat VS golden retriever energy. he's just a lil grumpy guy :)

word count: 4k

author's note: HAPPY JARGYLE JURSDAY! and happy pride! 💛🏳️‍🌈 this is the first of a few fics i have planned to write and post this month, all with queer relationships. absolutely random note: I based Lenora Hills off of Barstow-California, based losely on the location shown on Murray's computer and the overview of the town. fic based on a song of the same name by my queen of queens, Carly Rae Jepsen. hope y'all like this, and hope i made justice by my dearly beloved stoners! 💛

↳ ao3

Jonathan hated it at first.

Of course he hated it. How could he not? It was his whole world changed from night to day. Seventeen years of his life packed in a single morning into a few boxes into a truck across the whole country. Away from the few friends he had, away from the girlfriend he loved, away from all of the only things he ever really knew.

Jonathan feared it at first.

Of course he feared it. How could he not? His mother was alone, no husband, no boyfriend, no friends. His sister was alone, no boyfriend, no friends, no father. His brother was alone. He was alone. All they had was each other. What if it wasn’t enough? What if they were alone forever, thousands of miles away, and each others’ companies didn’t suffice?

But he also understood. How could he not? It was safer. A fresh new start, away from the dangers that haunted them, the ones that found them and the ones still lurking. Far away enough, hidden enough that they wouldn’t be found again. His mom would figure it out, Joyce always did. They could adapt, they could find new friends, they could still call and send letters to the old ones. They could go back for spring break, or for summer, or the ones left behind could come visit. It could work.

Doesn’t mean Jonathan liked it. Jonathan hated it, actually.

They arrived at the beginning of fall, and yet California was sunny, hot, and colorful.

Jonathan saw it all gray.

He hated the sun, the heat, the dryness. Hated how he was always sweating, bothered about the weather, about the place, about the people. Everyone was so nice, and cheerful, and happy. He hated it. He was miserable.

Argyle was nice and cheerful and happy. He was sunny and warm and colorful.

Jonathan hated him at first.

Saw that guy, first day of school, wearing a ridiculous shirt with more colors than the human eye can capture. The baggiest shorts Jonathan had ever seen, and they had a different psychedelic print on each leg. Fucking rainbow socks with hideous square-print Vans. He attracted all the attention around and yet, somehow, people didn’t seem to care about him one bit.

He was everywhere, too. Not just at Jonathan’s Math, Science, English and History classes, but at his woodworking elective as well. He shopped at the same grocery store that sold the snacks El loved, at the same farmers’ market Joyce got the best fruits, at the same craft store with Will’s favorite items, he worked at the best pizza place in town. Jonathan couldn’t escape him if he tried.

It took them a while to share their first words. Woodwork elective, Argyle needed someone to help him with a big project he had — it didn’t work, at the end, and he cut the huge wood plank into smaller pieces and made smaller things. For some reason, he saw Jonathan with a scowl on his face, pure disdain of how colorful and cheerful Argyle was, and decided to ask for his help.

Jonathan might’ve hated the guy, but he was raised well and polite. There was no actual reason for him to hate the guy too, so he helped. And hoped to never have to talk to Argyle again after that.

Of course that didn’t go as he hoped.

Argyle, who was once just a dude in the background of every scenario Jonathan walked into, was now purposefully centering himself in front of Jonathan’s lenses (his metaphorical lenses, because his actual cameras were kept in his bedroom. He couldn’t find it in himself the desire to take pictures of Lenora, its dry hot deserts and cheerful colorful people). Argyle talked to him, constantly, sat by Jonathan’s side at every Math, Science, English and History class, chose Jonathan as his woodworking partner from then on. Was Jonathan’s shopping buddy at the grocery, called out to Jonathan at the farmers’ market, gave Jonathan tips on what to buy for Will, delivered the Byers’ pizzas personally every time they ordered.

As they reached the end of the year, the weather cooled down a little — nothing compared to what they had back home in Hawkins, of course. But it was easier for Jonathan. It rained a little too, which helped with the dryness. People went for neutral tones and colors, and the sun didn’t bother his skin as much.

Argyle was still just as colorful, warm and sunny. Jonathan hated him. No one else seemed to notice him.

Will and El still didn’t seemed to have find friends too, which didn’t help with Jonathan’s anxiety and hatred. He was worried all of the time. About himself, about his siblings. His mom was doing fine at least, it’s been a while since Jonathan had to worry about her, thankfully.

“My man, you gotta chill a little,” Argyle said one day as they were leaving their woodwork elective, somehow noticing Jonathan’s tension.

Jonathan didn’t talk a lot, Argyle did most of the talking. He didn’t seem to mind.

“Have you ever tried smoking?” he asked.

“How would nicotine help besides getting me an addiction?” Jonathan countered.

Argyle clicked his tongue, “Not regular smokes, man. Nature’s goodies,”

“The devil’s lettuce?” Jonathan asked, and Argyle cackled loudly. Jonathan had never seen him laugh so hard. It wasn’t even that funny. Jonathan smiled just a little at the sound anyway.

“That’s right, man! Have you?” Jonathan only shook his head. “You wanna try? I bet it’ll do you some good, you look so pent up all the time, man.”

Jonathan didn’t know how Argyle knew that. Not like he had seen Jonathan in any other state if not pent up to know the difference. Jonathan’s small, rare joyful moments always happened at home. When Will was excited about something at school, when El was excited about a letter from Mike, when his mom was excited about a sell. When he was excited about a letter from Nancy. Those have been scarce.

Jonathan shrugged as an answer to Argyle’s offer.

“Well, if you ever feel like it, I can set you up.” Jonathan liked that Argyle didn’t pressured him.

They parted ways at the parking lot. Argyle was always driving the Surfer Boy pizza van. Jonathan’s car was dying a slow agonizing death, and he had been fearing the day the car would stop working.

That day had arrived.

Jonathan tried to ignite the car while waiting for his siblings to show up from wherever they were. But it wasn’t working, the car wasn’t starting and Jonathan hit his head on the steering wheel a few times with all that pent up anger inside him.

“Jonathan, you’re gonna get a hole on your forehead,” Will spoke as he knocked at Jonathan’s window.

“The car won’t start,” Jonathan complained, leaving the vehicle and checking his wristwatch. “Mom might be able to come pick us in between calls, maybe. This piece of shit.” He turned around and kicked the front tire. El giggled behind Will, Jonathan didn’t think it was funny.

“Hey man, I can get you and the younglings back home. I know where you live,” Argyle showed up from somewhere, Jonathan hadn’t noticed he was still in the parking lot.

“You know that sounds creepy, right?” Will asked. “Who the hell are you?”

Jonathan almost laughed, “He’s the pizza delivery guy, and he’s also in my year. Argyle, these are Will and Jane, my younger siblings.”

“You don’t look like a surfer boy,” El commented, noticing Argyle’s Surfer Boy visor. He’d probably head to work after school.

“And I am not one, little friend. Couldn’t hold myself standing up on a board, not even for a miracle. Maybe sitting down, on a pool, not on the ocean with the waves. But then it wouldn’t be surfing, now, would it?” Argyle said, that cheerful happy huge smile of his. Jonathan huffed, El seemed amused by the answer. “Shall we?” he asked, already heading for the pizza van.

“I should get the car towed first. I’ll call from the public phone over there,” Jonathan said and did as he said.

Argyle entertained Will and El as Jonathan called and waited for the towing, and as he talked to the towing guy when he arrived. He asked for the car to be taken to his house instead of the garage, because Jonathan didn’t have the money to pay for a fix. He’d have to save up, or try and do the fixing himself.

He sat at the front with Argyle in the Surfer Boy’s van, Will and El went in the back and asked Argyle all of the possible questions to ask someone who works at a pizza place. He didn’t seem to mind answering them all. They also asked a lot about his hair, and Argyle told El he’d give her tips to grow her hair long and pretty like his. She looked radiant at the promise.

Jonathan kept it to himself all of the way back, but all of the rambling from his siblings and his colleague didn’t annoy him. They seemed to like Argyle, and that made the dude ease his way a little further into Jonathan’s own heart. That’s how it worked, isn’t it? The way into Jonathan’s heart was always going through his family first.

When Argyle stopped in front of the Byers’ house, Jonathan’s old Ford was already there, and he paid the towing people as Will and El entered the house.

“I can come pick you guys up tomorrow if you want,” Argyle offered when Jonathan went back to the passenger window to thank him for the ride.

“I don’t wanna bother,” he said.

“Nah, man, don’t worry, it’s all good. I’ll be here tomorrow then. See ya, dude,” he said and just took off.

Jonathan stayed there a little while longer, staring at the street where the van had rode by, confusion all over his face. That guy was the weirdest guy he had ever met. But he wasn’t so bad after all.

And then began their new routine. Argyle would always pick them up — most days on the brink of being late — and they would have all their classes together, and Argyle would drop them off after school. He kept easing his way in, and at some point Jonathan started easing his way out of the cave he had dug for himself, and Argyle wasn’t the one talking all of the time anymore. He didn’t seem to mind listening.

Jonathan talked about Nancy, and how she wasn’t sending letters that much anymore. Their plans to go to college together, and how Jonathan wasn’t feeling it as of lately.

Jonathan talked about his dad, and how he was an asshole.

Jonathan talked about his mom, and how she was working all the time, and how he had to be a responsible figure for his siblings.

“They’re twins, are they?” Argyle asked once.

“No, Jane’s my… well, sort of half sister. Her dad was a close family friend, and my mom adopted her when he passed, it’s… a long story.”

Jonathan didn’t talk about the Upside Down.

“They kinda look like twins, though. Wonder twins.” Argyle said, smiling. He didn’t ask. Jonathan was thankful for it.

Jonathan took Argyle’s offer for some weed one day, and after that it was… well, conservatives would call it ‘downhill from there’, but Jonathan finally felt at ease. He liked getting high, liked how his mind wandered away, how his fingers felt a little numb, how the bright colors didn’t bother him for once. How he started seeing some beauty in them.

Argyle’s clothes were still just as colorful, and he was just as warm and sunny. They smoked together, they laughed together, he talked to Jonathan and most important, he listened to him.

The worst of it all?

Jonathan didn’t hate him anymore.

Well, maybe not the worst. Maybe it was for the best.

Nancy and Jonathan broke up through the phone late November.

They didn’t call each other a lot. There were a bunch of reasons. Joyce worked on the phone, so it was busy most of the time. When it was free, either El or Will wanted to talk to Mike, and they could go on for hours. Bills could get expensive. And Nancy preferred the letters anyway. Jonathan thought the letters suited her well.

But they broke up through the phone. Maybe it was for the best. Not to taint the beauty of their past love letters.

Jonathan could hear the frown in her voice, and the tears. She could probably hear it just the same in his voice. He loved her, he did. But long distance was hard. And she wanted to go to Emerson, and Jonathan didn’t. His dream has always been NYU, and that dream might be all the way across the country very far away from him, but he could still dream about it. And Lenora Community wasn’t that bad, and Argyle would be there, and so would Joyce and Will and El. And god knows Jonathan couldn’t leave them, his family. Not even for the girl he loved. Not even for his dreams, much less for hers.

Argyle took him to an old junkyard and they smoked more weed that they ever had and they played ‘golf’, aiming the tiny balls into the old cars’ windows and whoever shattered more glass would win. Jonathan had a feeling Argyle let him win on purpose.

Argyle took him to Surfer Boy’s and baked a pie just for him and paid for it with his employee discount and sat across Jonathan on the table and told him insane stories about the kitchen staff and Jonathan had to hold his laughter or he would choke around a slice of pepperoni.

Argyle took him home in the van — Jonathan hadn’t fixed the car, because he didn’t have the money and because he didn’t have to, because Argyle picked them up and dropped them off and the kids liked him and Jonathan didn’t hate him either. As Argyle parked by the Byers’ house, he placed his hand on Jonathan’s shoulder, looked him straight in the eye and said:

“Plenty of other midwestern fish in the midwestern sea, man.”

Jonathan wasn’t so sure what to answer to that, so he just chuckled, left the van and went inside the house. Peered through the window as the Surfer Boy’s van took off, some weird dancy reggae loud coming from the stereo. He smiled to himself.

Christmas came, no colorful lights hung up on the Byers’ house.

Argyle gave him a coupon for a month’s worth of Surfer Boy’s pizza. Jonathan didn’t think they’d exchange gifts, but he ran as soon as he could to the little shop he knew Argyle got all his weed items from and brought him a new bong. Argyle loved it and they debuted it together on the back of the van, looking down on the town from the desert.

Some pine trees were decorated and the colorful lights on them weren’t as scary as they would be at Jonathan’s house. He didn’t hate them as much there. Argyle’s shoulder was pressed to his as they shared the bong, and his skin was warm and Jonathan tried not to think too much about how his lips were touching the same place as Argyle’s lips did when pulling in the smoke.

New Years Eve came, and Joyce wasn’t too mad about Jonathan not spending it with the family, not once he told her his plans. Him and Argyle traveled to Santa Barbara, to a New Years Eve Luau, of all things. Argyle had a bunch of friends there — Jonathan was his only friend back at Lenora. He wasn’t bothered by that. He could use some other friends too — Argyle was his only friend back at Lenora.

They smoked, of course, and they listened to music and Argyle even danced with a few other guys. He wasn’t too terrible. He tried to make Jonathan dance too, of course that didn’t happen, but Jonathan was content to just watch. It took him by surprise, that realization: he was content. The moon was in her full glory, it was weirdly cold for a night in California, the sound of the waves were soothing, Argyle’s dark brown hair flew around him and his dark brown eyes twinkled by the fire, and Jonathan was content to just watch him.

Some friend of Argyle lived there and he and Jonathan crashed at the dude’s living room pull-out, heater on blast and Argyle’s back pressed to Jonathan’s back helped too, because the guy was always so damn warm.

Argyle let Jonathan put on some of his cassettes on the ride back to Lenora, and Jonathan sang out loud along with The Clash and the Sex Pistols, and Argyle bobbed his head to the rhythm even though he didn’t seem to like that genre of music, and he said: “These dudes are kinda pissed at stuff, man. They suit you, and all that pent up anger of yours.”

Jonathan reassured him: he wasn’t as pent up, or as angry anymore. Argyle smiled wide at that.

School started again and even their woodworking teacher noticed Jonathan’s change of demeanor and came to tell him how happy he was that Jonathan was finally adapted to the move. The teacher kinda hated Argyle — well he was a menace in class, and his projects were always terrible ideas — and Jonathan wanted to tell the teacher he should thank Argyle for that. He kept his quiet, though, but Argyle seemed to understand the funny look Jonathan threw his way after the pep talk.

Jonathan took his camera — that same one Nancy had given to him on Christmas of ‘83 — out of its box for the first time mid January. Some biology project, and he decided to take pictures to illustrate his work about the local low desert shrubs. Lenora High also had a photography room, and it was better funded than the one in Hawkins High, and once Jonathan revealed his photos and showed them to Argyle, he looked incredibly admired, and asked Jonathan to take some pictures of his mushrooms — of course his project was about mushrooms. He payed Jonathan back in pizzas, of course. Jonathan didn’t mind.

Apparently Argyle gushed about Jonathan’s photos at work because later that month he had a gig with Surfer Boy Pizza’s marketing team. He was also booked for the opening of that roller skate rink downtown. And some early-thinking students hired him to take graduation pictures for them when the time came. Word ran through school and he joined the Yearbook staff, and oh god the school paid well. He could even fix his car if he wanted to — but he didn’t. He liked the van.

He used the money to buy more film, and he used the film to take pictures for himself like he used to. His passion was back, and suddenly he saw so much beauty in the California sun, deserts, colors. He saw beauty in the junkyard, broken, abandoned cars with windows crashed. He saw beauty downtown, the colorful storefronts and the busy colorful people passing by. He saw beauty in the suburbs, kids with their bikes reminding him of home but in a nostalgic way instead of the heartbreaking way he used to miss Hawkins when they had just arrived in Lenora.

Argyle, who was once just a dude in the background of every scenario Jonathan walked into, was now purposefully centered in front of Jonathan’s lenses — his actual camera lenses, and Jonathan was the one centering him there.

He saw beauty in the way Argyle chose his ice cream flavors by which one looked more colorful that day. He saw beauty in the way Argyle’s body would twist when he made a powerful throw with the gold club, strong enough to hit the furthest car in the junkyard. He saw beauty in the way the sun would hit Argyle’s long hair as El braided it for him when they went on a picnic for Joyce’s birthday. He saw beauty in Argyle’s wide laugh when Will said something snarky about a teacher, and he saw beauty in Argyle's soft smile when he noticed Jonathan was taking a picture of him.

“Gonna want to see that one, man,” he said and Jonathan only nodded. Argyle didn’t seem bothered to be his muse, and Jonathan somehow didn’t feel embarrassed to be caught on the act.

He did show Argyle the picture later when he reveled it. He showed all of them, and Argyle looked at them with fondness and looked at Jonathan with even more softness and something warm was happening inside Jonathan’s body that he could name if he wanted to — but he didn’t. He just let himself feel it.

Jonathan took couples' pictures on Valentine’s day, and with the money he and Argyle went to Santa Barbara again on the weekend, and Jonathan took pictures of Argyle sitting in the sand, of Argyle with only his feet dipped in the ice cold sea, of Argyle pointing at something beyond the horizon line from the pier, of Argyle lit and glowing by another luau’s fire.

They slept on the beach that time, because that other dude’s pull-out was booked already, but someone lent them a tent and theirs was just one of many, like a big beach sleepover, and Jonathan never felt hippier, and he never felt happier. He laid on his side and faced Argyle’s profile as he snored softly laying on his back, and Jonathan wanted his eyes to be a camera so he could picture Argyle’s face as he slept peacefully. And Jonathan never felt sappier, and he never felt happier.

As Jonathan woke up the next day he was the one being stared at.

“I’ve seen you taking pictures of me, man, but I have none of you,” Argyle said before even bidding good morning.

“I’m more of a behind the cameras kind of guy.”

“Well that has to change at least for once, because if you’re gonna keep a loving portrait of me in your wallet I want the same honor.” Argyle was smirking, which wasn’t common, and Jonathan laughed loudly, which wasn’t common. He felt high, and he hadn’t smoked since yesterday afternoon.

“I don’t keep a loving portrait of you in my wallet, Argyle.”

“Now I’m just offended. You gotta.” They both laughed again before settling.

The sun was high in the sky already, its light peering through the tent fabric and illuminating the inside, but it was like a refrigerator lamp because it was still too damn cold. Argyle’s body heat was comfortable, though. Jonathan was content.

“I’m not reading wrong into this, am I, man?” Argyle asked after a while.

Jonathan could lie or pretend not to understand the question if he wanted to — but he didn’t.

“You’re not,” he answered. “I’ll let you take a picture of me when I look more presentable.”

“You look pretty enough,” Argyle said, and that warm feeling inside Jonathan’s body creeped up to blush his cheeks, but he was still smiling. “You’ll let me keep it in my wallet?”

Jonathan could answer with actual words if he wanted to — but he didn’t. He just reached forward, leaned forward, and pressed his lips against Argyle’s.

He was warm, and sunny, and even his pajamas were colorful, and all that color bled into Jonathan’s life and painted his gray off. Jonathan hated it at first. Of course he hated it. How could he not? Pack all his belongings into a few boxes in just a few hours, take him out of his comfort zone, change his entire view of the world.

But as Argyle’s hand cupped Jonathan’s face, he was warm. He made Jonathan warm, from the outside and from the inside. Jonathan didn’t see it all gray anymore, no, he had an explosion of colors and he didn’t hate them.

Jonathan loved it. Of course he loved it. How could he not?

#jargyle #jargyle fanfic #jargyle fic #jargyle oneshot #jonathan byers x argyle #argyle x jonathan byers #jonathan byers #argyle #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #lui writes

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spicysix · 11 months

Text

i was a no (never 'maybe'?)

"Robin takes her by the waist with one hand as the other reaches her face for a caress. Their eyes meet and Chrissy smiles before tilting forward. Her skin is silky smooth and as their lips meet there are fireworks- “Whatcha’ doin’?” Eddie’s voice is right by her ear. ❀ She’s pressed against a door, and Chrissy’s hands are on both sides of her head. She smells citric, her hair’s up in that cheerleader ponytail with the bow to make it better. Her lips are glossy, and Robin knows they taste of berries, and she confirms it once Chrissy leans in and their lips meet. There are fireworks- “What are you doing?” Robin wakes up from her daydreaming with Nancy’s voice behind her." or: Robin has a chronic problem of daydreaming about her crush.

warnings/tags: pining, friends-to-lovers, farmer market!AU, Robin is gay and oblivious, everyone else is gay and a meddler, fluff!! word count: 3.8k author's note: happy buckingham taking over jargyle jursday - so i guess it's Buckingham Bursday? anyway. and happy pride! 💚🏳️‍🌈 entirely based on the song and music video of 'chance' by Hayley Kiyoko (lesbian Mother yayyyy). you decided this one, remember that poll? heh, thanks for that. also shoutout to the ST rarepairs discord server for the help coming up with what everyone in this farmer market sells. hope y'all like it, happy reading! ♡

↳ ao3

Robin takes her by the waist with one hand as the other reaches her face for a caress. Their eyes meet and Chrissy smiles before tilting forward. Her skin is silky smooth and as their lips meet there are fireworks-

“Whatcha’ doin’?” Eddie’s voice is right by her ear.

“SHIT!” she shrieks, startled, before turning to face Eddie as he has a knowing smirk on his lips. Steve is behind him, trying to hold in his laughter. “I’m not doing anything!” she defends herself even if she knows they’re not gonna buy it.

“If you’d just let us meddle, you’d be together by now,” Eddie says as he shrugs.

Robin’s eyes go back to where they were just a few seconds ago. Chrissy is now talking to a client, a candle in their hand as she tries to make a sale. Robin knows that one, it’s the Lemon Meringue. Robin has three of them. The client should buy it, even if the delicious refreshing citric smell is not what makes them, Chrissy’s smile should do it. It’s what does it for Robin, anyway.

“I’m not gonna let you two idiots meddle. Either this will happen by god’s own will, fate’s written words, me growing metaphoric lesbian female balls, or it won’t happen at all!” she answers without taking her eyes off of the client putting down the Lemon Meringue and picking up the Passionfruit Martini. An excellent choice too. Robin once had six of them from when Chrissy started trying them out. She’s down to just one now, finally.

A loud bleat interrupts her train of thought, and Eddie’s screaming goat scares Hennifer Aniston and she starts cackling loudly as well.

“Jesus Christ, get out of here with your Baphomet,” Robin shoos Eddie and he laughs before pulling the rope around the goat’s neck. Robin picks up the chicken, Hennifer’s a very cuddly one so she calms down once she’s in Robin’s arms.

“This one’s Phillip, babe, you’re mixing them up,” Eddie says.

“They all look the same and you know it!” Robin fights back and he just waves a hand in the air, not caring about Robin’s antics. He knows she’s just mad because he’s a meddler.

“So do your chickens, by the way,” Steve notes as Robin puts Hennifer back in her little playpen.

“They do not! Stop siding with your boyfriend, don’t you have jam or pies or cakes to sell or whatever?” she retorts once again and Steve laughs. “You gay people don’t take care of your own lives and want to meddle in mine! Absurd!”

“We’re bisexual, don’t erase our sexualities! You’re gay people too, Bobbin, and my love life isn’t disastrous as yours is so I could be a good adviser.” He shrugs before leaving a few bills on Robin’s counter and picking up a tray of eggs she had separated for him earlier. “But you’re right, I do have jam and pies and cakes to sell. See you later, Bobs.”

She hums at him as he leaves for his own stall. The peak rush hours are closing in and Robin will get busy soon. She knows the chicken in a playpen gathers attention, and so does the little poster she has containing the chicken’s informations — name, age, personality. Kids love them. And the parents love the eggs, she’s been on the papers once with her high-quality chicken eggs. She’ll start getting her regulars in a few minutes and she’ll have to deal with her stall all alone because Nancy couldn’t help her in today.

Yet, she lets herself lose a few minutes more staring at Chrissy’s stall. The client is leaving with a Tangerine Drizzle — they clearly like the citric ones. Chrissy is counting the money and storing them away in her little detailed wood box, an Argyle Original. She doesn’t notice Robin staring, she never does.

A client approaches, and Robin lets out a sigh. She’s got work do to.

❀❀❀

She’s pressed against a door, and Chrissy’s hands are on both sides of her head. She smells citric, her hair’s up in that cheerleader ponytail with the bow to make it better. Her lips are glossy, and Robin knows they taste of berries, and she confirms it once Chrissy leans in and their lips meet. There are fireworks-

“What are you doing?” Robin wakes up from her daydreaming with Nancy’s voice behind her.

She squeals and turns around too fast, and the cornflakes in her bowl fly out and scatter around on the floor. The chickens are happy with that. Nancy is leaning against the fence, and the knowing smirk on her lips says it all.

“You really have to make a move, this is getting pathetic,” she says as Robin finishes spilling the corn.

Robin leaves the chicken coop and marks the tally on the mental note of tasks to be done.

“What’s with you bisexuals and your inability to stay away from my love life. I don’t wanna hear it from Ms. I Have A Boyfriend-In-Law.” She rolls her eyes as she starts going back to her house and Nancy follows after snorting.

“Jon and Argyle are pansexual, don’t erase their sexualities. And it’s called a polycule, by the way.”

“I’m not erasing-” Robin starts, but stops herself once she sees Nancy’s playful smile. She’s just teasing. “You people will be the death of me.”

Nancy just laughs again and they enter Robin’s house.

Chrissy’s there.

“Robin! Hi!” she greets excitedly when she turns around and sees them entering.

“Chrissy, hello,” Robin’s gotten better at not stuttering when she’s around her crushes. It took her half her life, yes, probably, but at least she’s got it now. She doesn’t ramble and babble awkwardly anymore. “Is there something I can help you with?” She’s also a professional.

“Steve asked me to get some eggs for him? Said he’s got a big order and can’t find the time to stop by himself,” she answers, that beautiful smile of hers still on her lips. Nancy is already heading to the place where the eggs are stored.

Robin narrows her eyes as discreetly as she can while her mind runs. Steve has no big orders this week. Robin knows that, because Steve lets her know every time he does, because she’s gotta separate the eggs for him. He would’ve told her about a big order.

Lying, meddling son of a bitch.

“Here it is, Chris,” Nancy shows up with two dozen eggs and Robin narrows her eyes again.

Chrissy hadn’t said how many eggs Steve asked for.

Lying, meddling sons of bitches.

“Thank you so much!” she says to Nancy before turning to Robin again, who’s just standing there acting weird. “Your birthday’s coming up, right? You’re gonna throw something?”

“Uh, yeah, next week. I don’t know, I’m not much of a partier. Maybe just a nice brunch,” she says, and Chrissy’s still looking at her with expectancy. “If I do, I’ll be sure to let you know, of course! You’re always invited.”

Robin’s answer widens her smile, and Chrissy looks down at her feet with blushed cheeks. Robin feels like screaming. She’s so fucking cute.

“What’s your favorite fragrance again?” she asks and Robin snorts.

Yours, she wants to say. She holds it in.

“Um,” she looks around.

There’s one of the Lemon Meringues on the table by the door. The last Passionfruit Martini is on her bedside table. She knows there’s a Cherry On Top somewhere in her office, and a Blackberry Cobbler in the living or the dining room. She’s been meaning to get a Tangerine Drizzle since she’s seen that client buying one that day, but she’s also been thinking a lot about a Banana Boat to replace the last one she had in the bathroom.

“Ambrosia Salad?” her answer is more of a question, because of course she can’t decide, but it seems to be enough for Chrissy. She tilts her head like a puppy dog — so adorable, really, Robin’s about to implode — and smiles again.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she says. Robin’s heart is about to flutter out of her chest.

She hands the money to Nancy, who’s the one now just standing there, but she’s not being weird like Robin was, she actually has that annoying know-it-all smirk. Robin wants to strangle her.

But then Chrissy comes closer and leaves a kiss on Robin’s cheek, and maybe Robin is about to defy every single rule of the universe and become a puddle, liquefy instantly to the floor. Her cheeks are burning, and her brain seems to have short-circuited and, seriously, it’s fucked up that a single little blonde girl has so much power over her. That shouldn’t be allowed.

Chrissy leaves and Robin watches through the window as Chrissy crosses her lawn. She throws kisses to the chickens and Robin feels like she has no more place in her heart to fall in love even more, and yet she still does. Robin stares until she hops up on her bike and leaves, and she doesn’t notice Robin staring, she never does.

“Bet you wanted to answer ‘her perfume’ or something sappy,” Nancy says behind her and Robin turns around too fast, head going dizzy.

“Will you shut up!” she yells, and Nancy laughs.

“Robin, seriously. Talk to her! I could cut through the tension between you two five minutes ago.”

Robin doesn’t answer, instead, she comes up with a random topic to talk about. Jonathan’s and Argyle’s woodworking, or whatever. How’s that going? Selling lots of wood… works? Nancy lets her change the subject, because she knows Robin sucks at talking feelings, and honestly, Nancy kinda sucks at it too. With each other, at least.

“I wanted to say her actual skin smell, which is much better than any cheap or expensive perfume on the market, by the way,” she still teases back before Nancy leaves later that day, and Nancy laughs loudly and Robin lets herself giggle too.

When it doesn’t hurt like a bitch, being in love is actually kinda funny.

❀❀❀

They’re lying side by side on the grass, and their fingers are intertwined in between their bodies. Chrissy rolls to her side and so does Robin, and their noses almost touch. She’s got that pretty smile of hers that makes her blue eyes shrink until they almost disappear, her little wrinkles show how much she smiles all the time, and it makes Robin’s heart beat so fast. She leans in to kiss her, and the stars above them twinkle and there are fireworks-

“What doing?” Robin’s startled by a tiny voice beside her.

She’s sitting on the park grass, her back against a tree and she could’ve been more undercover if she had just remembered to put her sunglasses on her eyes instead of resting them on the top of her head.

“Doing nothing, Holly,” she answers, and the smallest of the Wheelers just shrugs and sits beside her on the grass.

“She’s pining. As usual,” Dustin answers, and only then Robin sees that the entire Party is there.

Holly doesn’t mind the answer, probably doesn’t even know what the word means, and just starts ripping grass out of the ground. Will and El sit close to Holly and start playing with her. Mike stands and hovers above the three of them, all knight-in-shining-armor pose.

“Huh, the babysat become the babysitters. Steve handed you the business keys?” she asks as the rest of the teenage menaces approach. “It used to be the other way around, you know? It was one guy with a gaggle of children, and now it’s one child with a gaggle of guys,” she finishes.

“Yeah, world’s funny that way, don’t try and change the subject, your pining is disgusting,” Dustin retorts and Robin rolls her eyes.

“Now the teenagers are meddling too, what have I done to deserve that?”

Robin stops looking at them, puts her sunglasses over her eyes this time, and focuses back on her initial interest. Chrissy and Heather are a few feet ahead having a picnic, far enough not to listen but close enough that Robin has a privileged view. They had picked a few flowers and Heather had weaved a few of them into Chrissy’s braided hair. She looks beautiful, like a fairy or something. Robin wants to be Heather so badly, touching Chrissy’s hair so absently, handing her flowers and basking in the late winter sun with her. If she didn’t know Heather was painfully straight, she would’ve been painfully jealous.

She swears she’s not stalking. They got here after she did. She just lost interest in the book she was reading before they appeared. But Chrissy didn’t notice her staring anyway, she never does.

“You and Chrissy have made it the entire town’s problem with your longing and yearning and lack of action. We’re obligated to see it, so you’re obligated to listen to our complaints until one of you actually goes ahead and asks the other out,” Max is leaning against the tree but Robin doesn’t tear her eye from Chrissy to look at the redhead.

“You’d be such a cute couple,” Lucas says and Robin wonders what kinds of sins she had committed to be karmically pestered by a gaggle of teenagers about her private business.

She’ll talk to the others later, tell them to get a hold of their younger siblings. They are so out of line.

“Look, you children don’t understand, okay? I don’t want to risk our friendship, because I like her very, very much. And this is a small town, and we have to see each other weekly and if things don’t work out it’ll be very awkward. There’s so much at risk, things that you kids have no idea about, and I will not! Risk them!” I won’t risk us, she wants to say.

They all look at her for a while after her heart-gutting speech. She looks back, defying them to say anything, and she’s almost sure she’s won her made-up staring challenge when they look at her with sympathy. But Erica ruins it.

“This is not about the gay thing, is it? Because, like, half of our group is part of the rainbow community, birds of a feather or whatever. Girl, we’ve been knowing.” Lucas hisses at his sister for her lack of touch, and she shrugs. “Just the facts.”

Robin takes a deep breath and starts thinking how she’ll answer that without cursing or being very rude and possibly scaring the Little Wheeler forever. Holly doesn’t deserve her rage, she’s clearly the best sibling in that family.

“She doesn’t even like me back, okay? Just the facts,” she mocks through gritted teeth. “Let’s just drop this,” is the best she can manage in a really dry tone, and she thinks it’s enough when they all go quiet again. Until Will speaks.

How did Steve manage, honestly? The man’s a saint, he’s gotta be. Kids are infuriating.

“Robin, I promise we’ll stop talking to you about this, and you don’t have to do as we say,” he says. “But, really. Just consider the possibility of talking to her. If it goes well, and I think it will, it really pays off,” he finishes and Mike, who’s still hovering and looking around as if a monster is about to appear out of nowhere, actually blushes. It’s almost cute.

Robin gives Will the smallest of smiles, that woman-love-woman to man-love-man solidarity smile, but doesn’t answer him. Doesn’t let them know that she’s considering following the advice coming from fucking teenagers (who all seem to have better love lives than she does, but that’s not the point).

Damn you, Will The Wise.

❀❀❀

She’s coming in Robin’s direction, the sun making her blonde hair shine bright and her skin glow, but her smile’s the most blinding of it all. She smiles at Robin in a way no one ever had, and it makes her warm inside. Chrissy’s finally close enough to touch, and Robin doesn’t hold herself and takes her face in between her hands. She smells of chocolate chip cookies in the oven, of laundry softener, of a flowery garden, she smells of home. Robin’s eyes almost tear up simply at the thought of her, and she can’t keep it in, she say’s ‘I love you’, and Chrissy answers, ‘I love you too’ before leaning in to kiss her, and Robin knows there are fireworks-

“Robin?” Chrissy’s voice sounds uncertain and it snaps Robin out of it.

Okay, she really is pathetic. Daydreaming about the girl while she’s talking to her, wow, this has reached a new level of absurdity.

“I’m sorry, so sorry!” she sputters, cheeks burning, hands sweating. “You were saying?”

“Just… happy birthday,” Chrissy smiles, hands Robin a gift box, but it’s such a small smile. A shy one, not good-shy, but fearful-shy. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

Robin can only nod, and she hands the gift box to Steve so he can keep it safe for her. No one around her is making any noise, and she knows they’re being watched by all these meddlers, so she glances at Joyce before turning to Chrissy again.

“Inside,” she almost whispers, before turning around and heading for the Byers’ house.

They’re having her birthday brunch there because Joyce’s porch is the best and her backyard is one of the only ones without animals or trees or woodworking stations. She also loves hosting, so it’s a win-win situation. Argyle cooked, Steve baked, Hop’s working on the barbecue and everyone’s having a great time.

Or, was. Until Chrissy appeared, made Robin’s brain stop working and now there’s that weird tension in the air. Robin knows she fucked up, she fucked up big time, but oh god, Chrissy looked so beautiful. She looked so beautiful every day, but she had such a pretty dress on today, and her hair was up in that cheerleader ponytail with a bow to make it better, and she has a shiny lip gloss that makes her lips look so kissable, and she smells of honey and coconut, and Robin wants her.

Robin wants her so badly, and Robin dreams of her when she’s asleep and when she’s awake too, and she has never wanted someone this much. And she has never known so deep inside her soul, how she can’t have someone as much as she knows she can’t have Chrissy. Robin’s not a particularly insecure woman, but she knows Chrissy would never pay her any mind.

“Why do you hate me?” Chrissy asks once they’re inside, and when she turns around to face Robin her eyes are wet.

“WHAT?” Robin yells, then cups her mouth for a second. “I’m sorry, shouldn’t have yelled, but. What?”

“I don’t understand. I keep catching you looking at me sometimes, but then you look away immediately and sometimes you look almost angry. You don’t hold big conversations with me, you seemed pissed at me that day with the eggs, and just now you weren’t even listening as I was talking.” Robin is in total shock as Chrissy starts listing things on her fingers. “It wasn’t like this! We were friends, Rob, and suddenly you started being so weird. Why invite me to your birthday if you don’t want me here?”

Yeah, they were friends and then Robin caught feelings. And apparently made it weird. Maybe she wasn’t as good with the girls she liked as she thought she was. She stopped rambling and babbling awkwardly, sure, but now she apparently shuts them out. Definitely not great either.

“Chrissy, I want you here, I do!” she says, and her voice falters because Chrissy has no idea how much Robin wants her. “I’m so sorry I made it weird, I just…” She closes her eyes, takes a deep breath and remembers Will’s words. Oh wow, that’s pathetic for sure. “I don’t wanna be just your friend, Chris. I want more.”

She opens her eyes to face her demise because if she’s gonna be turned down she’s gonna take it proudly.

“You want… more?” Chrissy asks, and she takes a step further into Robin’s space.

“Yes. I like you. So much. So much, it’s pathetic.”

“You… like me?” she asks again, eyes wide open, and Robin gulps before nodding. Oh, god, here comes the blow. “Oh, Robin.”

Robin has no time to ask ‘what?’ because Chrissy throws her arms around Robin’s neck and their lips touch.

For real.

There are no fireworks, actually.

Fireworks are deafening loud, they’re bright and blinding. They jet, they spiral, they splatter. They can be scary, they’re everywhere and they’re overwhelming, and they’re too much sometimes. Just like Robin is most times. Loud, spiraling, everywhere, and overwhelming. Too much.

Chrissy’s kiss is not too much. It’s just enough.

It’s calm, and it’s relaxing, and it’s giving and giving and giving, but it’s receiving just as much. It’s stillness in a once stormy ocean, it’s silencing of all the high-pitched sounds that can be deafening, it’s thrilling in a way that makes Robin’s heart stump loud but rhythmically. Robin’s body loosens up, tension and anxiety leaving her, brain going quiet in, for once, a good way. She’s not overwhelmed, her senses aren’t screaming at her, she’s focused on the present moment. Chrissy tastes of fruit, of course she does, and she smells of home because it’s what she is. Her skin is warm as Robin holds her with no intention of letting her go, but it’s nothing like her dreams.

Because it’s real. And it’s so much better.

They separate their lips but their foreheads are still touching.

“You have no idea how much Eddie and Heather have been pestering me to talk to you,” Chrissy whispers almost against Robin’s lips, and she snorts.

“Oh, I sure do.” She wants to hate her friends for being right all along, but she can’t find it in herself to be anything but insanely happy.

“We’ve been two blind idiots, haven’t we?” Chrissy giggles, and it’s angelic as a sound can be, and Robin wants to crack Chrissy’s ribs open and live inside her chest. She nods at Chrissy’s question.

“I was so sure you didn’t like me,” she admits. “I looked at you all the time, daydreaming of this all the time. Reality’s so much better.” She tightens her grip around Chrissy’s waist to prove her point, to prove to herself it’s real.

“You didn’t see me staring right back.” It’s not a question, because the answer is obvious.

“I was too much of a blind idiot to see it, apparently.” She smiles and she leans in and she kisses Chrissy again. Because, oh god, she can do that now.

“But you see it now?” Chrissy asks.

“My eyes are wide open, Chris. And I see you now.”

#buckingham #buckingham fic #buckingham fanfic #buckingham oneshot #robin buckley x chrissy cunningham #chrissy cunningham x robin buckley #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #lui writes

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