𝐷𝑜𝑝𝑎𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑒, 𝑆𝑒𝑟𝑜𝑡𝑜𝑛𝑖𝑛, 𝑂𝑥𝑦𝑡𝑜𝑐𝑖𝑛- 𝑅𝑜𝑛𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑒

𝑇𝑤𝑒𝑙𝑣𝑒- 𝑆𝑢𝑝𝑝𝑜𝑟𝑡 𝑏𝑒𝑎𝑚𝑠

Now, naming the whole operation 'The dating game' was possibly a bit overkill- Robin agreed on that one- however, she came to the conclusion that it fit quite well. Steve had always treated the world of dating like it was some sort of game, almost a fantasy, and if only he treated his fantasy as sacredly as the Hellfire Club treated theirs... then maybe everything would be a lot simpler for the man. The day of action was looming overhead, reaching them at almost top capacity. It was now or never- make the call, or simply just don't.

The thought of crashing Steve's privacy had been greatly considered, but after laying on her bed for a moment too long remembering all of the headaches that he had caused, the guilt of the matter had flown out of the window long before it could walk. The plan was practically set into concrete, and all that was needed was the support beams to hold it in place.

Evening light seeped its way through the closed curtains. Robin was sprawled out completely, one hand ruffled in-between locks of knotted hair. The other, however, was hovering over her bedside table, ghosting the touch of the telephone which rested on its surface. The plastic of the cradle glinted slightly as the stream of sun reflected from the smudged fingerprints, but Buckley didn't turn to look or even feel as she plucked it from its base.

There were a few numbers plastered permanently in her mind; most being locations of the party members, the odd being take-out services or mechanics incase of emergency- but fortunately, although she hated to admit it in the given moment, the cabin in the woods was a staple location. She raised the telephone up to her ear, tapped in the numbers through muscle-memory, and waited for the tone.

It buzzed.

And buzzed again.

And then someone picked up- and it reminded her of the last time she had called the Byers'.

"Hello, Joyce Byers speaking."

Robin smiled against the sound.

"Hey, Joyce. It's Robin."

"Well, hello again, sweetheart. What can I do for you on this fine evening?"

Her voice sounded warm, welcoming- just like it always did.
Buckley paused, biting back her tongue from forming any plausible words.

Now or never.

Now.

Or.

Never.

"Well, you see, I was thinking about what you said when we last called... about going for coffee? I've, erm, got a time and location for it, if you're free?"

"Yes! Yes, of course!" She chuckled. "Apart from the usual mom duties, I'm free anytime!"

It was going to be a success.

"Okay, great... I know it's slightly short notice- but would tomorrow be okay? Lucy's Café, the one just off of main street?"

Silence.

"Oh- yes, Lucy. Lovely woman. Have you any idea on a time yet, dear?"

"Twelve? Lunch time."

"Sounds like a plan. Perfect time to even sneak some cake in- if we're lucky!"

Robin liked Joyce's enthusiasm for the smaller things. She had totally mastered the typical (but trying to be cool) mom behaviour. It always ended in being quite a comfort; something Robin pined so desperately.

"Great- well, I'll meet you at, like, quarter to? Just outside of Melvald's?"

"Tomorrow, quarter to twelve. Perfect- see you then!"

"See you."

And just like that, Robin rolled herself over and put back the phone. The support beams had been set, and meeting just before the set time would give her the well needed chance to sneak into the far corner of the tiny establishment and hide in the shadows until the main event arrived. She was happy with the arrangement that had been made.

Robin laid her head back. The ceiling was strangely textured. Thousands of tiny bumps, spaced and squished together on the flat of the roof. She had never liked it much, but it gave her something to do when boredom took ahold. Count the bumps; ten, fifteen... three hundred, three thousand. Once she started she just couldn't stop.

It was the simple things like that that captured Robin's attention; the small quirks, differences, changes... which is probably why she struggled with change as much as she did.