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When Steve opens the door, Robin's first thought is that he actually looks worse now. A few days ago, the bruises on his face were bright red, with some purple around his left eye. Now they're purple all over. The worst of it around his eye is so dark it looks black.
"Are you okay?" she asks without meaning to. It's not just the bruises. His skin around them is pale, his hair is still wild but looks nothing like the controlled mess he made of it when he started working at the mall. Has he slept at all since that night? There are circles under his eyes.
He gives her a lopsided smile. She thinks he's trying to look casual, but it's clear he's avoiding moving his face any more than he has to. Not that she can blame him.
"Nice to see you, too," he jokes, stepping back to let her inside. "What are you doing here?"
The inside of his house is just as big as the outside suggests. Robin pauses for a moment to take it in. Her house is nice, but this is a lot. Shaking her head, she heads straight for what she assumes is the living room. There's a TV and a long couch, and vertical blinds drawn to keep the light from coming in. Dropping the bags in her hands onto the floor by the coffee table, Robin spins on her heels. Hands clasped in front of her, she points a finger at Steve.
"You lied to me."
Steve scrunches up his face in a way that looks painful. Not even a second later he smoothes it back out and crosses his arms in front of his chest instead. "What are you talking about?"
Mirroring his position, Robin shrugs, twisting her body to gesture at the house. "You said someone would be home."
"They were." When Robin raises her eyebrows, Steve drops his arms. "My mom was, that night. She left the next day."
"Dustin told me," Robin says. She doesn't know how she never noticed any of those kids around town before. It's only been a few days and she feels like she's seen them every time she leaves her house. Then again, maybe Dustin did that on purpose. He seemed a little over excited at the fact that Steve has a friend his age. Robin hopes he's not trying to play Steve's little wingman or something. Still, it's kind of cute how much the kid cares about Steve. Less cute how genuine his worry seemed when he mentioned that Steve's parents were going to be out of town this week.
Steve laughs. He shakes his head, walking the rest of the way into the room.
"Of course he did," he says as he sits carefully on the couch. Robin wonders how bad he looks under his shirt. Adrenaline is something else; she can hardly believe they managed half of the things they did after the lab. She's still sore, and even though she didn't see Steve's interrogation, she remembers the way he'd looked when they dragged him into the room with her.
"He's just worried about you, dingus."
"I'm fine," Steve tells her like she didn't see how slowly he followed her into the room. The way he's got one arm curled across his stomach like that might make it hurt less isn't fooling anybody.
"Sure," she says, reaching for the plastic bag on the floor. He isn't, but it's also been long enough that she's pretty sure a hospital visit isn't in either of their immediate futures. That's enough for now. "Hope you're up for movie night because I rented a bunch of them."
"You don't have to—"
"Dustin told me to get m&ms and popcorn. Was insistent about that, actually, so," she digs out a bag of candy large enough to share and one of the bags of microwave popcorn. Dropping a pile of movies onto the couch next to Steve, she points to another part of the house. "Kitchen this way?"
"Robin—"
"—Steve."
Seconds pass as they stare at each other. Then Steve sighs, picking up the movie on the top of the pile. "Yeah, kitchen's over there."
Grinning, Robin pats Steve— carefully— on the shoulder and heads for the kitchen. Steve is holding up one of the movies when she gets back, bag of popcorn in her hands. She felt weird searching through the cabinets for a bowl, and hell. They've been through worse things than sharing a bag of popcorn.
Or so she thinks before, after popping the movie into the VCR, Steve dumps a handful of m&ms straight into the bag. "What are you doing?"
"Why do you think Dustin told you to get these?" Steve asks, grinning with no regard for the wounds on his face. Robin shakes her head.
"You're such a dingus."
Sighing, Robin leans into his side. It's nice, finally having a person she can do this with. Sit close and watch movies and eat dubious snacks with, without having to worry about— any of it. Steve can't seem to sit still while they watch. One of his legs is constantly moving or he waves his hands around as he makes comments, but it's a relief more than an annoyance.
His skin might be pale and his bruises look painful, but he smiles through the movie like it doesn't hurt anymore and Robin is grateful for Dustin butting in to make tonight happen.