Dinner Date
For STWG daily drabble and, more importantly, for Goldie @steventhusiast. Happy Birthday, you deserve the world. I know you’re asleep right now, but it’s technically still your bday here.
“Dingus, this is a really fancy restaurant.” Robin leans back in her chair, but her hand plays with the fork on her napkin.
Steve sips his wine; some of it tips over the edge onto the tablecloth. “What? Can’t a guy take his best friend out to a fancy dinner?” He tilts his head and takes in his best friend. What was once an awkward teen now had a beautiful, but still awkward, woman in her place.
“Steve, I love our friend dates, but usually they take place in a greasy diner or dollar pizza.” Robin picks the fork up and starts twirling it into her napkin. Steve watches her get mesmerized by the wrinkles that wrapped around the silverware, even though they both know the napkin should be in her lap by now.
Steve smiles softly, moves his napkin from his lap to the table, and begins to mimic Robin. “Okay, maybe I wanted it to be a special occasion.”
Robin giggles at Steve's poor fork-twirling form and leans over the table to fix it for him. “All occasions are special when we are together, so that doesn’t really mean much.” Robin’s nose scrunches in concentration as she gently guides Steve’s hand. She has done this plenty of times before, guiding Steve where he needed to be. Like taking him to the bookstore near her college so he wouldn’t have to go into sex with Eddie blind, or when she taught him how to whisk eggs properly. Both are equally important skills he now uses in his everyday life. “But you seemed nervous. You keep sipping your wine, and I know for a fact that you hate dry wine.”
Steve puts down the glass that was halfway to his mouth, “It’s not my fault Moscato tastes like candy!”
Robin snorts, “Seriously, Dingus. It’s just me. What’s up?”
Steve puts down the fork and his glass and looks Robin in the eye. “I wanted to ask you to be my best man.”
Steve expects a lot of reactions out of her: excitement, an eye roll, hell, even straight-up rejection. Maybe a little speech about how weddings for them aren’t even legal. Instead, a look of betrayal crosses her face. “You asked Eddie to marry you, and you didn’t even tell me you were proposing?”
Immediately, Steve clenches his stomach in outrageous laughter, nearly having to bend over the table. Steve tries to take Robin seriously; he really does. But she is supposed to be the smart one out of the two of them.
Rage takes over Robin completely as she reaches over the table to start slapping Steve’s arm. “Don’t laugh, you asshat! I am actually mad at you!”
“Ow—” Steve laughs. “Ow, Robin!” Another giggle escapes him as he gets her to sit back in her chair. “I’m laughing because, of course, I didn’t propose to Eddie without talking to you first.”
Robin settles a bit at this, “I’m confused.”
Steve reaches for her hand across the table; Robin doesn’t hesitate to wrap her fingers around his. “I’m asking you to be my Best Man first, doofus. Before I even pick out the damn ring. Which I definitely need you to steal one of Eddie’s rings for me so I can get the size; man watches those things like a hawk.”
Robin squeezes his hand, “Wait, why would you ask me that first? Isn’t that kind of backwards.”
“I do everything kind of backwards, babe. Kinda the Steve Harrington special.” Steve rubs a thumb against the back of soulmate's hand. “Of course, I ask you about being my best man first. There would be no wedding without you, so if you say no, there would be no proposing.”
Steve could see tears beginning to fill Robin’s eyes, “What are you saying?”
“Whoever gets stuck with me gets stuck with you. We’re a package deal, babe.”
Robin throws herself across the table, knocking the wine everywhere. Steve laughs and clenches her tightly. “Of course, I’ll be your best man! Someone’s gotta make sure you don’t hurt yourself going down the aisle.” She sobs.
Steve’s throat gets thick, “Pretty sure that’s the father's job, Robs. And you’d have to fight Jim for that role.”
“Fine.” Robin sniffs, leaning back to look him in the eye. “But I get stand by your side as you make a complete fool of yourself with your vows.”
“Deal.”
Robin leans forward, placing her forehead against Steve’s. “You and me against the world, babe.”
Steve hugs her tight, “You and me against the world.”
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Dick is convinced that food always tastes better after a show.
His dad laughs and tells him it’s just because they’re acrobats and they can’t eat much prior to spending a few hours intricately twisting and flipping their bodies through the air over the dizzying roar of the crowds below. Hunger, he tells his son, has always been the best spice. But Dick thinks there’s more to it than that. There’s something about the buzz — the energy following a performance — that makes even the simplest of dishes special.
With so many different cultures and nationalities represented at Haly’s, Dick is used to eating all sorts of things, learns to tell who’s making dinner each night by the aroma of the various herbs and spices wafting out from the tent. There’s a Russian acrobat and a Taiwanese contortionist and a French wire walker and a clown from Cleveland, and the only common factor seems to be their insistence that the nine-year-old could use some more meat on his bones. He helps his mother stir cornmeal porridge and stuff cabbage leaves with ground meat and rice while his dad, grinning, juggles bell peppers and onions and cans of tomato paste in an arc above their heads.
It’s always late at night by the time they gather around the plastic folding tables with full plates, aching muscles, and weary smiles. Snippets from conversations in three or four different languages wash over Dick, and he doesn’t understand everything, but he doesn’t mind it either. The food and laughter warm him from the inside out, and he eats until his belly is full and his eyelids start to grow heavy. His mother pulls him into her lap and lets him curl up against her chest, and he’s lulled to sleep by the hum of the troupe members’ voices, perfectly safe and content.
The night that Dick’s parents fall to their deaths, there’s beef goulash simmering on the cookhouse stove and just the smell is enough to make him sick.
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Steve, Gareth and Chrissy are cousins AU (sad edition) [prologue] [part 1] [part 2] [part 3] [part 4] [part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [Final Part]
"Oh Boom!" Steve cheers, stepping though the plants, "Bada bing, bada boom! There she is, Henderson. Skull Rock. In your face, man. In your stupid, cocky little face."
"Doesn't make sense," Dustin mutters, following after him.
"Yeah, yeah. Even with it staring you in the face, you can't admit it. Can't admit you're wrong, you butthead," Steve says, one hand on his hip as he looks up at Skull Rock.
"I concur," Eddie's voice is preceded by the thump of his landing, which causes Steve and Dustin to turn around to, "You, Dustin Henderson, are a total butthead."
"You son of a bitch!" a different, familiar voice shouts, and Steve watches, to his increasing horror, as Gareth rounds the rock Eddie just jumped off and beelines for Steve. He's too shocked to do anything other than watch as Gareth plants his palms to Steve's chest and shoves.
Steve goes down hard, arms pinwheeling. He hears several people call his name but the white noise his brain is generating has blocked out everything except Gareth. Gareth, who stands before him, chest heaving in his anger, hand back to his sides and fists clenched.
"Where were you!?" Gareth screams at him, and Steve can see tears threatening to fall. "Where the fuck have you been?"
"Excuse me, but who are you?" Robin asks, stepping forward and into Steve's periphery. The white noise quiets just a bit as he watches Robin whip to Eddie. "Who is he?"
Eddie says something back, but Steve doesn't fully hear it before Gareth has taken a step forward, closer, pulling all his attention again and Gareth asks again, quietly, "Where were you?"
Steve swallows, looking Gareth up and down. He's dirty, much like Eddie, and not wearing shoes. Why isn't he wearing shoes? What happened to them? He looks back up to Gareth's face. To the anger he can see, is sure everyone else can see, too. But, also, to the sorrow, the fear, the hurt underneath it all. Steve opens his mouth, a thousand questions on his tongue. Where are your shoes? How did you get here? When? I tried to keep you out of this, I wanted to keep you out of this. Why are you here? But, instead, what comes out is, "I'm sorry."
Those words seem to break Gareth. A choked off sob rips from his throat and he drops to his knees, curling in on himself. Steve, always protective, moves to comfort him at the same time as Eddie does but Eddie beats him there, kneeling down to be at Gareth's side, concern etched in every line of him. Eddie places a hand on Gareth's back, near his shoulder, rubbing small, soothing circles there.
It makes something squeeze deep inside of him, to see Eddie caring for Gareth so much, even as Eddie is now glaring at Steve in defense of whatever slight he thinks Steve has caused. Or maybe he knows. Maybe Gareth told him. Told him how Steve is the worst cousin in the world, failed to protect Chrissy. Failed Gareth, too, since he's here, barefoot in the middle of the goddamn woods instead of safe in his home.
Robin's arm hooking under Steve's own breaks him from his thoughts. He lets Robin help him stand, and watches as Eddie does the same for Gareth, and for a moment, the whole forest is quiet.
But they have Dustin with them, so that doesn't last long. "Can someone explain what the hell is going on? Why's Gareth here?"
Steve doesn't even have it in himself to scold Dustin for his language.
Eddie and Gareth exchange looks, a silent communication so like how he is with Robin that it gut-punches him, and then Eddie says, "it's, uhh, quite a story."
"Start telling it, then," Nancy says gently but still with her usual no nonsense undertone.
They get a story told by both. When Eddie pauses, Gareth picks up the tale, and the vice versa. When Gareth gets choked with emotion, such as explaining that Chrissy is his cousin, Eddie takes over and explains. He says nothing about Steve, doesn't even imply he knows more, so... maybe Gareth hasn't told him Steve is also his cousin?
Then they talk about Patrick and Nancy wants to know the time, and soon it's back to dealing with the Upside Down. Something's up with Dustin's compass they have to go investigate now, and Steve thinks everyone's forgotten the weird tension of Gareth shoving him down and demanding to know where he's been.
Everyone but Robin, it seems, who hangs back to ask about it as they follow Dustin and his broken compass.
"So, how do you know Gareth?" Robin asks, uncertain.
Steve frowns at the back of Gareth's head, where he walks ahead with Dustin and Eddie. "He's my cousin."
"Oh!" Robin's eyebrows shoot up in surprise, looking from Gareth to Steve, as if she can spot a family resemblance from the back of Gareth's head. "How did I not know that?"
"Gareth asked to pretend we weren't related when he started high school," Steve shrugs. "Was afraid it would ruin his 'street cred'."
"What a nerd."
"Right?" Steve chuckles at that and they walk in silence for a bit longer before Robin gasps like she's dying. A realization.
"Steve," she breaths out, a hand flying out to grab onto Steve's shoulder in an almost painful grip. He's so glad she's keeping quiet, as she whispers, "was Chrissy your cousin, too?"
Steve swallows and nods.
"Steve, I-"
"No. Not now. Not the time," Steve cuts her off, prying his hand from her arm. "Please, Robbie. I can't think about that now. Please."
Robin doesn't look happy about the development but she gives a nod, swallowing around the lump in her throat now.
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Well damn, Mumbo was back.
Evil Xisuma didn't have a comms device of their own. They figured this out because the man himself flew up to them asking about diamonds.
"Uhh, hello, X?"
"What?" they asked, turning around to see a very nervous Mumbo (oh, who were they kidding, he was always nervous) standing behind them, holding a shulker box.
"Oh, you're not- my bad," he said, stepping backwards. "Sorry. I thought you were Xisuma."
"That's a first," muttered EX. "How the Hels did you fuck up that badly?"
"Right, you can swear," sighed Mumbo. "I'm sorry to bother you, but I just- do you know where X is?"
"Nope."
"Okay," said Mumbo. "Do you think you'd be able to help me with-" [he waved his free hand vaguely] "diamond stuff?"
EX had zero idea how this man found them, or what the hell he wanted, or even why he was talking to them at all. Most Hermits just avoided this part of the Nether, and let them do their thing. But here Mumbo was, just standing there, diamonds in hand. Sure. Why not.
"Elaborate," they said, leaning back against the wall.
"Okay," started Mumbo. "I left the server a few months back to go on a trip, right?"
"Allegedly."
"When I- when I left, I was the richest Hermit. And then I got back, and I thought well I'm definitely not the richest Hermit anymore, but then I checked in my vault and there was substantially more diamonds in there than I remember?"
"What does any of this have to do with me or X?" asked EX flatly. At this point, they were just considering telling him to shove off and let them continue building this wall. This was a waste of time.
"I was wondering," said Mumbo, looking anywhere but their face (did this man go to therapy for anxiety? EX sure hoped he did. This was embarrasing.), "if you had perhaps lost any?"
What the fuck?
"I know you haven't been around," said Mumbo with a sigh, "but this is why I was looking for X first, and I just got really lost on my way there, and maybe there might be a chance that you-"
EX paused him with a wave of their hand. "You are smoking warped mushrooms if you think I have been anywhere close to the Overworld," they said, walking closer. "If this had been any other person, or any other situation, I would have said that oh yeah, I took your puny little diamonds, but this? I'm not even going to pretend that I have. Come on. Seriously, how did you get all the way out here?"
"I thought it was worth a shot," said Mumbo, stepping back two paces and almost tripping over a dint in the netherrack. "Since, y'know, that was sort of your whole thing in season 8-"
EX sighed. "We don't talk about season 8."
"Sorry."
There was a dead silence of about 10 seconds in which EX turned back around and continued building the wall. Hearing no footsteps or rockets, they turned back around and raised an eyebrow. "X's portal is about three thousand blocks southwest of here. If you want to make it before the sun goes down in the Overworld- maybe it's already set, who knows- you should probably get on it."
Mumbo cleared his throat. "Uh. Yeah that'd be good. Thanks?"
"Do you go to therapy for anxiety?"
"What?"
"You need therapy. Get out of my swamp."
Mumbo nodded and, almost dropping the shulker box, flew off in the direction that EX had specified.
They watched him go for a while longer, hands on hips. What a guy. What a weird fucking guy.
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