“gooood morning hawkins, this is your host of the squawk, rockin’ robin” robin starts off, just as she has every morning for months now. steve winks before making your favorite sound effect, a rubber chicken squeak. you giggle. ever since hawkins went into quarantine after the upside down debacle, you’ve been around him all the time, and he’s become such a flirt. once the broadcast gets shut off unexpectedly, he hands you the manual, leaning over your shoulder.

“what’s up with it, honey?” he asks, right next to your ear. robin is on your other side, but not nearly as close.