CHAPTER FOURTEEN
ABOUT A GIRL/ABOUT A BOY

        Erica Sinclair is a handful.  Abby knows this from experience.  She has a lot of people wrapped around her little finger as she prances around Hawkins. Robin Buckley, Abby has discovered is not one of those people.  The aforementioned pours over her notebook with headphones secured tightly over her head as the Russian transmission plays on repeat.  Abby, caught up in her own thoughts as she stares down at the translations in Robin's notebook leans across the opposite side of the counter, effectively tuning out the incessant ringing of the bell on the counter.

Abby and Robin had fallen into a rhythm, alternating between customers while Dustin and Steve stake out the mall in search of Russian spies.  The girls doubt that they'll actually get any leads.  It's not like they'll actually be able to spot a Russian spy, but they need peace and quiet.  Without Steve or Dustin around to check in on them every five minutes, slowing their progress considerably, they're able to get much more work done. 

Finally, Abby's thoughts are shattered by Erica who calls, "Excuse me?!  Ahoy?"

 Abby lets out a groan reaches up and pulls the headphones off of Robin's head.  Robin's head snaps up. "What?"

"You're up," Abby tells her as she inclines her head towards Erica who stares at them impatiently with her arms crossed over her chest.  "Good luck, sailor."

Robin releases a heavy sigh and throws her head back as she turns around to face Erica Sinclair.  She's flanked by her two friends who smile smugly at Robin and Abby.  Erica gives Robin a forced smile and tilts her head innocently as she rests her hands on the counter.  She'll use whatever card she has to pull out of her sleeve to get more samples. 

"I'd like to try the peanut butter chocolate swirl, please," the girl says through her forced smile.

Robin isn't having any of this.  Not today.  She shakes her head.  "No.  No more samples today."

"Why not?"

"Because you're abusing our company policy."

The perfect angel facade washes away from Erica's face in an instant as she realizes that Robin is a lost cause.  She cranes her neck around in search of someone that she knows she still has wrapped tightly around her finger.  She gets a lot of things from her sickly sweet voice, and Steve has always been the staff member to crack first and Erica knows this.  Abby has grown a tolerance to her whines and general obnoxiousness after months of watching her with a keen eye when both her parents and brother aren't available.  Erica doesn't even try to catch Abby's eye.  She's much smarter than she lets on, blinded by the vehement denial that she is not a nerd like her older brother and his friends. 

"Were's the sailor man?"

"Sorry, he can't help you, he's busy," Robin tells Erica, though she doesn't sound very apologetic.  Instead, there's a smug smile on her face.

"Busy with what?" Erica demands.

Robin only gives Erica a sly grin.  "Spycraft." 

✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.☆.*｡･ﾟ✫*

The spycraft in question consists of ducking behind the bushes that surround the food court and looking around at the amplified world through Dustin's binoculars.  Steve raises the binoculars to his eyes and squints through them as his eyes pass over the brightly dressed men and women as they gorge themselves on the food.  But no Russians.   At least, he doesn't think so. he's not entirely sure what an evil Russian is supposed to look like in the first place.  They don't notice the stares that linger on them by the passersby, or the way they cup a hand over their mouths and whisper to each other, still staring.  They're both too fixated on the mission before them. 

"You see anything?" Dustin asks in a whisper.

"Uh," Steve pauses.  "I guess I don't really know what I'm looking for."

"Evil Russians," Dustin reminds him.

Steve rolls his eyes.  "Yeah, exactly.  I don't know what an evil Russian looks like."

"Tall, blonde, not smiling," Dustin answers.  "Also look for earpieces, camo, duffel bags, that sort of thing."

This goes unheard by Steve whose heart sinks as eyes land on Anna Jacobi—the Perdue girl—and Mark Lewinksy from the basketball talking with each other as they lean their arms on the landing above them.  He narrows his eyes as he watches them interact.  Mark Lewinsky has a hand on Anna's arm while Anna reaches up to brush a strand of hair out of Mark Lewinsky's face as they both laugh.  Steve rolls his eyes and lets out a disbelieving scoff.  He doesn't know why this upsets him so much.  Robin's right.  He never stood a chance.

"Oh, you've gotta be kidding me."

"What?" Dustin questions.

"Anna Jacobi's talking with that meathead Mike Lewinsky!" Steve exclaims, watching in some mixed feeling of horror as Mark leans forward the whispers something into Anna's ear.  Anna only seems to laugh harder.  Dustin says something else, but Steve is too captivated—and horrified—by this new sighting.  "Aw, Jesus Christ, whatever happened to standards?"  Mark imitates shooting a basketball and Steve lets out another sigh.  "I mean, Lewinsky never even came off the bench."

"Dude, you are the worst spy in history, you know that?" Dustin groans.  He grabs the binoculars from Steve's hands as protests erupt from his mouth.  He's still watching Anna Jacobi and Mark Lewinsky closely.  Dustin raises the binoculars to his own eyes as he continues, "Besides, I don't get why you're looking at girls anyway.  You have the perfect one right in front of you."

Steve lets out a groan.  He admits that he enjoys Robin's company a little bit more than he lets on.  Even when she manages to belittle him for breathing in the wrong direction.  He laughs at her jokes from time to time, trades music suggestions with her because Abby doesn't seem to like his music choices, and engages in petty arguments with her.  But that's all she is, and that's probably all that she'll ever be to him.  Good company.  And besides, she was in band.

"Seriously, if you say Robin one more time—"

"Robin," Dustin interrupts, ignoring Steve's protests.  "Robin.  Robin.  Robin, Robin, Robin.  Robin."

"No, man, she's not my type!" Steve exclaims.

"Well, good because I wasn't talking about Robin anyway," Dustin replies. 

"What do you mean?"

Dustin lowers his binoculars to stare at Steve for a few moments.  Steve blinks and stares back with his brows furrowed as Dustin lets out a sigh and rests his hand between his pointer finger and thumb.  "Jesus, how oblivious are you?  I was talking about Abby."

"What?"

Here's the thing about Steve Harrington and Abby Foster: if you were to ask one about the other, without an ounce of hesitation they would both instantly say that the other is one of their best friends.  Abby might leap into a tangent about Steve's music taste, or how obsessed with his hair he is, or how his most prized possession is the keychain his sister had made for him in first grade.  She may even mention the warm feeling of friendship that she gets when he's around.  Steve might tell about how determined Abby is, or talk about how she always underlines phrases that stand out to her when she reads, he'll mention the smile that inevitably forms on his face when he's in her company.  But neither of them seem to want to admit that they see a little more in the other than just a friend because they'll always be best friends first.  And so, they remain painfully ignorant to the other.

"Come on, it's pretty clear that you like each other," Dustin tells Steve.

Steve responds by shaking his head and punching Dustin lightly in the arm.  Abby is one of his best friends.  Sometimes he does wish that there was something more between them than the spark of friendship, but Abby's not the kind of person that would be interested in someone like him.  She's going to make it out in the world while he stays stuck in Hawkins because there's nothing out there for him, but there's still that small hope that maybe there is something more than friendship there.

"Dude, no, we're just friends," Steve tells him.  "It's not gonna happen."

"Who says it won't?" Dustin presses.

"Well, nobody," Steve admits.  "But she has no reason to even be remotely interested in me like that."

"And why not?"

"Well, she's like, super-smart for one thing, and for another, she's going to college next year and like meet frat boys or something and forget about me," Steve lists.  "Plus she was like, really weird in high school."

Dustin snorts.  "Steve, this is Abby we're talking about.  I don't think you'll have to worry about frat boys.  Besides, now that you're out of high school which means you're technically an adult, don't you think it's time you move on from primitive constructs such as popularity?"

"Primitive constructs?" Steve repeats.  "Is that some stupid shit you learned in Camp ... Know ... Nothing." 

"Camp Know Where," Dustin corrects.  "And no, it's shit I learned from life.  Instead of dating someone you think is gonna make you look cooler, why don't you date someone you actually enjoy being around.  Like me and Suzie.  Or, uh, I don't know, you and Abby?"

"Oh, Suzie," Steve responds sarcastically.  He still has yet to fully wrap his head around the concept of Dustin having a girlfriend, but he goes along, regardless.  "Yeah, you mean 'hotter than Phoebe Cates'?  Yeah, that Suzie.  And, uh, let's think about it.  How exactly did you score that beautiful girlfriend?" He scratches the side of his forehead, pretending to be in deep thought.  "Oh yeah, with my advice.  Because that's how this works, Henderson.  I give you the advice, you follow through.  Not the other way around, all right, peabrain?"

Meanwhile, Abby sits on the counter in the backroom, headphones over her ears as she stares down at Robin's notebook while she serves the next customers.  Together, they've managed to decode the rest of the phrase.  The week is long.  The silver cat feeds when blue meets yellow in the west.  A trip to China sounds nice if you tread lightly.  Even with the completed phrase, the words still muddle and swirl around in her head.  Each word can have several different meanings.  She's learned from Isla that codes can be infinitely complex, or something simple enough to go unnoticed, but they have no leads, no clue what any of the words can mean.

Robin plops down across from Abby with her own headphones hanging around her neck.  "Whatcha listening to?"

Abby looks up and pulls off the headphones.  "Iron Maiden."

"I thought you didn't like Iron Maiden," says Robin as she rests her chin on her fists.

"Oh, I don't," Abby answers.  Robin's eyebrows are cinched in confusion but she nods anyway.  Abby's quick to explain, "but music helps me concentrate and Steve won't shut up about them, so I thought this would be a good time to give them a second chance and know what the hell he's talking about."

There's a knowing smile on Robin's face as she lets out a sigh.  "Abby, some boys are completely stupid.  Steve is one of those boys."

"Yeah, I thought that was common knowledge."

"What I mean to say is," Robin interrupts, "if you want a chance at something with guys like him, you gotta make the first move."

"Make the first move?" Abby repeats.  "Robin, what are you talking abou—oh!  No!  No, it's not like that.  I don't think.  We've just happened to have been through the same things.  You know, bonding over trauma or whatever."

She's not entirely sure where she and Steve truly stand.  There's a line between friendship and something more, they've been toeing the line for so long.  There are moments throughout the where they just barely cross that line, but they're back on the other side just as quickly as they had crossed over.  Abby doesn't know whether or not she wants to cross the line with Steve Harrington.  She thinks she likes where they stand where she can confidently say that he's one of her best friends.  After all, she has found an unlikely friend in Steve Harrington and the feeling of friendship is warm. A warmth that she doesn't want to lose just yet.  But she does think about what it would be like to cross the line once and for all. 

"Well, the question isn't what you two are, it's if you want something with him," Robin responds.  "So do you want something?  Because I'm pretty sure he wants something with you."

Abby shrugs and buries her face in her palms.  "I don't know, Robin.  There's too much on my mind right now and even if something does work out, I'm going to college next year and—oh my god, I still haven't even made a decision on a college yet."

"Hey, you'd work something out," Robin assures her as she reaches out to put a comforting hand on Abby's wrist.  "Just tell him that you like him, what's the worst that could happen?"

"He could hear me."

author's note: was this completely cheesy because i have no fucking idea how to write this stuff?  yes.  do i care?  also yes.  am i posting this regardless?  you bet.  they pain me, but i love them regardless.