𝐖𝐄 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐒! [𝐫𝐨𝐛𝐢𝐧 𝐛𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐞𝐲]

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐢𝐱

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐈𝐕𝐄

The next morning, Margo pulled a shift at her dad's shop, despite knowing it was the last thing she should be doing with the giant black shadow of Vecna looming over the town of Hawkins. She leaned over the open hood of a Toyota Camry, oil stains streaking her arms and her old t-shirt she'd stolen from Jonathan before he'd left. "Yeah, it's gotta be an issue with the carburetor," she called to Conor, laying on his back underneath the car. "I think it's jammed." 

"Yeah, you're probably right," said Conor, rolling out from under the Camry and getting to his feet. "You know how to fix it?" 

She nodded. "Yeah, go work on the Murphy's truck." She gestured to the Ford pickup on the other side of the garage. "I have no clue what to do with that kind of faulty engine." 

"It's not hard," said Conor, scooping up his tools and moving to the truck. "It's all about troubleshooting, kid." 

"Right..." Margo leaned over the Camry again and taking a wrench to the carburetor. "Troubleshooting..." 

They worked in contented silence for a few minutes, invested in their respective jobs. "Hey," said Conor, looking up from the engine of the truck. "I just wanted to say I'm sorry for flipping out on you over the murders and stuff." He poured himself a glass of water and handed one to Margo. She set it on the workbench next to her, too focused to take a break. "You're an adult now, and if you wanna try and save the world, I can't stop you. I just worry." 

Margo straightened up, a glimmer of a smile resting on her lips. "That has to be the strangest sentence I've ever heard from you." 

"Yeah, might be," Conor said with a shrug. "But I mean it." 

"I know," said Margo. "It's fine." She went back to working on the car, then looked over at her dad again. "Hey Conor..." 

"Yeah?" 

"Um- what would you do if... if you really liked a girl- like- really liked her... and then you kissed her... and now you don't know what to do because dating seems impossible, but you like her a lot, but you also can't tell anyone you like her because you'd be burned at the stake by a bunch of hicks who hate girls who like girls?" 

Conor choked on his water and coughed into his arm for a solid minute. Margo set her wrench down and leaned against the hood of the car, watching him expectantly. When Conor finally caught his breath, his shoulders were shaking with laughter. "Yeah, see, I've never exactly been in that situation, kid." 

"Well, I know that," she said impatiently. "But didn't Mom's parents, like, hate you? I mean, you have to kinda know what I'm talking about." 

He shrugged. "Yeah, Jackie's parents wanted to kill me, but all I had to do was buy us a house across town from them and forget they existed. Your situation's a little more... difficult." 

"Right," said Margo. 

"Who's the girl?" 

She looked at the ground. "Robin." 

"Goddamn." 

"Is that a good 'goddamn...?" 

He smiled. "Yeah, yeah, it is. I like her. I'd say... if I were you, and if you really like her... don't give a shit about the rest of the town. You'd be surprised by how little most people actually care. And if anyone tried anything, you've both got a number of people willing to beat the everliving shit out of them." 

"Oh yeah?" 

"Me, Steve, I'm sure Jonathan would fly back to Hawkins just to stick up for you, those kids you're always hanging around-" Conor ticked them off on his fingers as he went.