trans rights or die

And, well, it’s not entirely true that it isn't going to end well. Robin Buckley knows full well what flirting looks and feels like, contrary to popular belief. It’s just that she’s never pursued this sort of thing before. She’s always been too afraid to have gotten it wrong. This time, she’s terrified, but Steve absolutely will not stop prodding her about it and she’s just about desperate to get him to shut up about her love life. She’s even willing to make a fool out of herself to do it. The plan is simple. They’re both supposed to finish their shifts at the shelter around two, and Robin is going to ask her to hang back after. Pretend Steve has forgotten to come pick her up, maybe suggest they go get some food together. Have a gut-sickening conversation about something Robin isn’t sure she knows. The thought of it makes her feel like she’s been crumpled up like a piece of paper and stuffed into her own mind, so that she isn’t sure how many times it’s been said when she hears; “Robin!” from Steve on her left.

“What? Jeez!” She counters, as if she wasn’t being totally ignorant.

When she looks over at Steve, he answers with an irritated raising of his brows and a curt gesture towards the gym. Robin sinks down into her seat, burying her face in her hands and muffling the already muttered curse that comes from her without her permission.

“Okay-” Steve says, exasperated, “First of all, sit up. You think girls like other girls who slouch? Second of all…”

Steve falls silent so long, Robin finally peeks out from behind her hands to look over at him, her brows knitted together and an expression that’s asking him to kill her right then and there so she doesn’t have to do this.

“You’re gonna be fine,” Steve tells her, a note more gentle than before. The tenderness of it makes Robin groan and fall forward onto the dash, “Vickie’s nice! And she’s totally into you, and she’s going to drive you home this afternoon instead of me. Though that’s really not a good look, you should probably think about getting your license.”

“Goodbye, Steve,” Robin intones as she opens the passenger door and pulls herself out of the car.

Then, there’s a short series of beeps as Steve pulls away, and suddenly she’s alone in the parking lot, and she really, actually has to go through with it.

Stepping through the doors makes Robin feel as though she’s stepping out onto the stage under the heat of a great big spotlight, and everyone’s eyes have turned towards her in some fucked up synchronised motion. She hasn’t, and they haven’t, but she nearly loses her nerve. There, across the floor, Vickie is bathed in the mid-morning light spilling in from one of the high up windows, and she looks like sunshine itself. She’s already smiling and chatting to someone across the table, and somehow when her gaze slides over to Robin by the door, that expression brightens even more. For just a moment, there’s no one else in the room. Just she and Vickie, glowing like some far away star, and she wonders how she’d ever been afraid. And, God, if she loses her nerve now she’ll never forgive herself.

Suddenly and without warning, Robin is marching across the room. She makes a beeline for Vickie’s table, picks something up and inspects it for half a second before speaking.

“Would you look at that?” she says, so quickly it sounds like one long word, “You’ve run out of this, looks like we need to go to the back immediately.”

“Hi, Robin,” Vickie starts, bemused. The jar of peanut butter in Robin’s hand is in fact empty, but it sure doesn’t warrant the way Robin puts a hand on her back and steers her towards the back room.

She doesn’t stop there, not when Vickie protests, not until they’ve gone out the back door tucked away in the corner and out into the field the shelter backs onto. She stops there in the middle of the wide open field, still feeling as if every eye in Hawkins is on her right there.

“What is going on? Hey!” Vickie protests some more, and Robin still doesn’t answer, she steers Vickie towards a tree on the edge of the clearing and finally, finally she stops for real.

“Okay,” she says, breathlessly, “I need to talk to you.”

“Right now?” Vickie asks, a little less heightened now that she isn’t being walked all over town.

“Yes, right now,” Robin tells her, “I’ve been keeping something from you, and it’s imperative that I tell you right now or else I’m never going to, and I’m never going to get my license, and I’m going to have to look you in the face every day knowing I’m a coward because I’m going to be stranded at this stupid shelter forever. All because I chickened out at the last minute, even though this really isn’t the last minute, because-”

“Robin!” Vickie shouts, bringing her back from that wild tangent.

“Oh, my god, you’re going to hate me,” Robin says, bracing her hands on her knees, “I think I’m going to pass out.”

“Jeez, Robin, breathe,” Vickie takes her by the shoulders, straightening her up so she can look her in the face. “I need you to calm down and tell me what’s going on right now because you’re really starting to freak me out, and we both know what happens when we’re both freaking out.”

“Okay, just-” Robin pauses for a second, looking at her. Just looking at her. The sun filters down through the leaves of the tree they’re standing under and makes her look like some kind of otherworldly thing, something ethereal and beautiful, and Robin might never get the chance to look at her the same way again. “Promise me you won’t hate me, or think of me any differently.”

Vickie, in the silence, looks back. Her mouth is open and poised to speak, but she’s afraid. Something has Robin scared, and it twists at her heart in ways she doesn’t expect.

“I’m not going to hate you,” she says, in such a gentle tone Robin nearly cries, “Obviously this is important to you, so I’m going to listen very carefully. And I’m not going to hate you afterwards.”

Maybe it would be fine. Maybe Robin is wrong, and that would also be fine. Because Steve’s right, Vickie doesn’t seem to have a mean bone in her whole body. Even if there was some kind of misunderstanding here, maybe it wouldn’t matter. So, here she is stuck between two worlds- the one where Vickie feels that same sickly sweet thing and the one where she doesn’t, and there’s a part of her who wants to stay here. In the not knowing, in the hoping.

“You know how you asked me a while back if me and Steve were a thing and I laughed in your face?” Robin asks.

Vickie’s hands stop gripping her arms so tightly, and Robin, who’d been searching for anything but Vickie to stare at, finally looks up at her.

“I remember,” Vickie tells her, her brows knitted together ever so slightly in confusion.

“Well, you were half right,” Robin offers, with a pitifully nervous laugh. “So- Well, it’s a long story, but Steve actually did like me, at one point. And when he told me, I thought, great… now I have to tell this guy something I’ve never told anyone, and to be fair I was- It doesn’t matter what I was, or what he was, or where we were. What matters is that I’m standing in front of you right now, and I think I have to share that same secret with you, or I’m going to go insane.”

“Robin,” There’s something almost pleading about the way Vickie says her name, all torn up with sympathy for Robin. “Please, whatever is going on, you’re my friend and I want to help you. Will you just take a breath and tell me because, if I’m being honest, I think I’m going to go insane too if you don’t spit it out.”

Robin who feels the words there waiting to be spoken, but she gets the air stolen from her first. Friends. What a terrible word. What a beautiful thing to be. It’s just too bad Robin doesn’t want it.

“I like girls,” she says, the words leaving her like a sigh. It’s the first time she’d ever said it like that. She’d let Steve figure it out, and the silence that had followed had been as torturous as it is right now. Here, behind the shelter, where Robin has just laid her life in Vickie’s hands.

“Oh, Robin,” Vickie finally speaks. Its pity in her tone, Robin thinks. The gentle murmuring of her voice, the way she says her name that makes Robin’s heart feel like its backflipping in her chest. She’s suddenly keenly aware of the warmth of Vickie’s hands, which are still gently resting on Robin’s arms.

“And I don’t want to be friends,” she forces the words out, though they’re somehow even quieter this time.

“Oh-” Vickie’s eyes widen, a sudden realization twisting her expression with shock.

“And if that makes you feel weird, or not want to be around me anymore,” Robin can’t help the way her voice suddenly comes an octave higher, the way her head falls back and her gaze turns skyward like some heavenly deity might be able to help her “I’ll walk away and I’ll never bother you again, it’s just you looked so beautiful when I walked in, and I was planning on telling you anyway, and I thought then and there if I didn’t say something I was going to combust right in front of everyone.”

“You think I’m beautiful?” Vickie’s hands still haven’t moved like Robin expects them to.

Robin drops her gaze and looks down at her, and Vickie’s eyes are shimmering with something that Robin can’t name but it’s like looking at blue, blue water on a sunny day and she forgets how to breathe. Slowly, her head sways, and finally makes a gesture resembling an affirmative nod.

“And you don’t want to be friends?” Vickie asks, in a tone that makes Robin feel the need to clarify.

“I want to be more than friends,” She says, her tone low and murmuring like the confession might stay sacred if she keeps it just for them, just for here and now and the tree she’d taken sanctuary under.

“You know,” Vickie starts, “when Dan asked me out, he brought me flowers. That was the first and only time he ever brought me flowers, but it was nice. Just that once. And it did convince me to date him, even though he turned out to be kind of a prick.”

“You want flowers?” Robin asks quickly, “Because I’ll bring you flowers. I’ll bring you flowers every day, you’ll have so many flowers you’ll be begging me to stop.”

Something shifts, and as Robin speaks, that sunshiney smile grows on Vickie’s face, and Robin is worried she might not be able to keep it a secret how much she adores that smile. It’s a cruel, cruel world where Robin can’t shout it from the rooftops. But what she can do, gingerly, tenderly, is lift the hands that have been hanging limply by her side and take a step closer so that she can rest them at Vickie’s waist.

“Okay, so, do you want-” Robin starts slowly, for once choosing her words carefully.

“Yes,” Vickie interrupts her question.

“You don’t even know what I was going to ask!” Robin protests.

“I think I can make a pretty well educated guess,” Vickie makes a face at her, like she wishes she could pretend to be indignant but she just can’t stop smiling. “You were going to ask me if I wanted to date, and I was going to say yes, and then you were going to ask me if I wanted to ditch the shelter so we can go do something fun together. Like… I don’t know, maybe go pick some wildflowers and watch a movie in my basement while my parents are at work.”

“Do you want to go- do all of that?” Robin asks, earnestly.