A/N - This chapter was inspired by the song So Good by Louisa Johnson. For this one, the characters are all in their early 20s, but Robin never left Hawkins in the finale. I hope you all enjoy it.
You'd just been about to give up on work and head out to grab a coffee break when the phone on your desk began ringing, a soft sigh immediately falling from your lips as you realised you wouldn't be getting your much-needed caffeine fix any time soon.
With a small shake of your head to clear it of the negativity that you were certain would be all too obvious when you began speaking to whoever was calling, you reached for the handset, answering the call.
"You've reached Y/N-"
A soft snort of laughter cut you off, and God, you'd rolled your eyes so hard that it almost hurt. "You answer the phone like such a nerd," Robin teased.
"This is my work line," you corrected. "You're supposed to be someone important," you added, listening as Robin continued to chuckle on the other end of the line. "What do you want?"
It seemed that your question had brought Robin back into the present, her chuckles softening. "There's a party over in Forest Hill tonight-"
"Robin, it's Wednesday," you uttered.
"Yeah?"
"I have work tomorrow," you pressed on. "I can't go to a party."
Robin let out a soft sigh. "But it'll be fun," she exclaimed, practically pleading already.
"You know I usually would, but-"
"Steve's going to be there," she interjected. "And we all know how much you love Steve," she added, drawing out the word 'love' like it was the sweetest thing she'd ever tasted, her voice all lyrical.
"Robin," you bit out, your jaw hanging open at your desk. "Shut up."
"He can't hear me; he's in his bedroom," she chuckled. "The walls here are thick-"
You scoffed. "That's a lie, and you know it. I'm still scarred from that time you had Vickie over whilst Steve and I were watching Dirty Dancing-"
"And I still can't believe he let you make him watch that crap," she interjected. "But here we are, huh?"
You released a soft sigh, and in that moment Robin knew, before you'd even said a word, that she had won. "I'll come, but I can't stay late. I have to be up early."
*Time Skip*
You'd gotten to the party unfashionably early, basically one of the first people to arrive, and had ended up finding yourself a spot in the living room as you waited for Robin and Steve to show up, a little knot of anxiety growing in the pit of your stomach.
It was silly, really, how after years, god, more than a decade, of knowing Steve, the idea of seeing him still made you so nervous. I mean, he was the sweetest guy you had ever met, and he was so nice to you, and still, your heart was racing like you were being hunted across the Serengeti, and your palms were clammy.
So, whilst you waited, you did what any sane woman would do, and lingered near the bar, slowly building up a thick barrier of Dutch courage. And, by the time your friends had arrived, you were already on the right side of tipsy, grinning like the Cheshire Cat when you'd spotted them weaving towards you through the crowd.
"Robbie," you cried out, throwing your arms around her when she got close enough, and squeezing her so tight that she let out a startled squeal.
"Wow, you've been here a while, huh?" she teased, untangling herself from your grip. "I would be horrified, but Steve decided that he needed to pre-game a house party," she pressed, nodding over her shoulder to where Steve was standing, fiddling with the sleeves of his sweater, looking like a lost kid.
His head shot up, like he suddenly realised that Robin was talking about him, his mouth opening and closing a couple of times before he let out a stunted sigh. "I only had a couple of beers," he corrected.
"Well, then, you guys have some catching up to do," you pressed on, your voice a little louder than you were intending as you caught both of their hands, dragging them over to the makeshift bar in the corner of the room. "Shots?"
Robin chuckled as you began setting out the little plastic shot glasses, lining them up haphazardly. "I thought you were taking it easy tonight," she teased, taking the bottle of tequila out of your hand before you could spill it all over the table, and pouring the shots for you.
"No, I said I was going home early; that's a different thing entirely," you corrected, grinning as you lifted one of the little cups, handing it to Steve and collecting one for yourself. "To drinking on a work night," you cheered before tipping it back, feeling the liquid burn its way down your throat.
"That's gross," Steve winced, his face all screwed up for a second before he sent you a small smile, before glancing over your shoulder as two guys went barreling through the crowd towards the back door, his hand shifting to the small of your back to pull you a little closer, moving you out of their way. "Careful," he hummed quietly.
His hand had lingered there as you and Robin made idle chitchat, his eyes roaming the party, like he didn't really know what to do with himself. And when Robin had made her excuses, ready to go in search of Vickie, the two of you had still been standing huddled together, his palm still pressed to the spot just above the waistband of your jeans, silently steering you out of harm's way when other partygoers got a little too close for comfort.
"How'd she convince you to come?" you finally breathed, and his eyes had fixed on yours in an instant, a soft smile on his lips.
"She told me you were coming," he confessed quietly. "Hadn't seen you in forever-"
"I saw you last weekend," you interjected.
Steve scoffed slightly. "We bumped into each other in a coffee shop, and you were on a date," he corrected. "We weren't exactly catching up." When a soft chuckle slipped out of you, he hesitated for a moment, still watching you carefully. "How'd it go with that guy?"
"I'm drinking at some random house party with you and Robin on a Wednesday night," you hummed, still smiling softly up at him. "How do you think it went?"
"I'd say probably not great, huh?"
You snorted softly, leaning a little further into his touch. "He got really weird after you left," you explained.
Steve's brow furrowed, his jaw tightening, his automatic protector mode activating before your eyes. "Weird?"
"Yeah. Said he thought it was weird that you and me are friends. Said he didn't think it was right for girls to have guy friends. Went on this whole lecture about how it's disrespectful to him, as a prospective boyfriend, for me to acknowledge you in public. It was crazy," you murmured, giving a short shrug. "I guess I should thank you; you coming over to say 'hi' saved me from wasting another date on him," you added.
A small chuckle slipped out of Steve. "You've dated some real douchebags, you know that?" he told you, watching as your mouth dropped open in horror at his comment.
"Because every girl you've dated was a fucking angel," you uttered back, drawing another laugh out of him.
"I'm not saying they were, Sweetheart. I know my dating history is a little sketchy in parts." He hesitated for a moment, considering his next words carefully. "You know you don't have to keep wasting time on guys like that, right?" he started. "I mean, just say the word, and I'll be right there to take their place."
Your soft chuckle slipped away as you came to the conclusion that Steve wasn't joking.
"Or, don't say anything, and in the morning when we're both completely sober, we can pretend this conversation never happened."
You reached out to grab his free hand, squeezing it lightly. "No pretending," you uttered, watching the corner of his lips tip up slightly. "I don't want to keep wasting time."
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