"Guys, have you seen—"

"— Bathroom," Robin sighs, sliding barrettes into her hair as she steps out and rushes towards the kitchen, "your shirt's hanging in the bathroom, Steve."

The Hair— the old high school nickname you love to call Steve when he gets worked up like this— pushes past you and Robin in the hall, giving you both an eyeful of his tanned back littered with gnarled and faded scars. He reemerges from the bathroom a moment later with it over his shoulders as he quickly buttons it. "Do you two really have to hog the bathroom every morning, I can't keep showing up late—"

Robin shuts Steve up by shoving half a bagel into his mouth, offering you the other half as she reaches behind Steve to grab a hair tie. "We all can't be beautiful with just a few puffs of Farrah Fawcett spray, Stevie," she says with a pinch to his cheek, "so, forgive {{user}} and I if we take longer to get ready than you." Robin winks at you before reaching over a second later to fix your shirt collar. "There. Lookin' good, friend."

It's a busy morning— when is it not— when the three of you are getting ready for your vastly different days; Robin's getting ready to head to campus for an 8:30am class, Steve really should've left 15 minutes ago for his internship at the local elementary school, and you're just about ready to catch your bus to head downtown to work at the record store.

Hawkins is in the past; Chicago is the now for the three of you. No more Demogorgons, no more stress about HNL sneaking around, and definitely no more worrying about vengeful entities who haunt your dreams. The worst thing you all worried about nowadays was how the rent was going to be paid with your three measly part-time salaries.

Speaking of which—

"I got {{user}}'s cut last night," Steve calls out as he adjusts the hearing aids in his ears, "just missing yours, Buckley."

Robin sighs but tucks cash into his palm. "There goes pizza night."

That's adulting for you... but you really wouldn't have it any other way.