you are my center when i spin away

“That’s it?” Steve asks. “You’re not going to go to prom because you don’t know how to dance?”

“I’m uncoordinated enough! I don’t need to be out there making even more of an idiot of myself in some floofy dress,” Robin insists.

“Rob, no one at prom knows how to dance. Everyone kind of looks like an idiot, that’s half the point,” Steve says.

“Oh yeah, Steve, you’re really selling me on the experience,” Robin drawls.

“No, listen, I’m not done,” Steve says, giving her a nudge. “The other half of the point is just… going and having the memories, y’know? You get to dress up and take the dumb picture with your date, and avoid the punch because someone probably spiked it, and you get to dance and be close to someone and just, like, be carefree for a night.”

Robin says nothing. She doesn’t agree that prom night is paramount to the teen experience, she doesn’t tease the shit out of him for having such stereotypical expectations of a dumb high school dance, she’s just… watching him. She’s turned sideways on the sofa, one leg drawn up to her chest, and she’s looking at him like he’s something between a fascinating puzzle and the saddest thing she’s seen all day, and he knows what she’s thinking.

They aren’t high, but they might as well be.

It’s so late that it’s early, sitting in those odd hours of motionless night when exhaustion throws a ridiculous filter over everything and it’s an effort not to laugh loud enough to alert Robin’s parents to the fact that there’s an unauthorized boy in her room.

She and Steve have been lying side by side on her bed for the last hour, both knowing they should probably go to sleep if they’re going to wake up with enough time for Steve to sneak out and actually drive home safely, but they’re not quite ready yet. Instead, they’re content to be pressed together, shoulder to ankle, hands intertwined between them, content to feel the other secure and nearby.

Robin lifts their hands and uncurls her fingers, spreading them open like a star and prompting Steve to do the same, until their hands are pressed flat together with their fingers outstretched.

“Your hands are bigger than mine,” Robin says, looking at the way her palm fits into Steve’s with room to spare and the way his fingers extend past hers by almost a whole knuckle.

“Probably because I’m bigger than you,” Steve says, also lazily gazing at the way their hands fit together.

“Yeah, but they’re, like, way bigger than mine,” Robin insists. “You have really big hands.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “They’re not that big. You just have stubby fingers.”

“Rude. You just have giant hands.”

“I do not.”

“Like mittens.”

“No.”

“Banana hands.”

“You are literally the only girl who has ever said something bad about the size of my hands.”

Robin smacks her free hand against Steve’s chest. “Ew.”

Steve is laughing. “You started it.”

Steve as Hawkeye and Robin as Black Widow. Based on this post.

Omg perfection 😍

Steve and Robin often share a bed, it comes with the territory of being platonic soulmates. But no matter how many times they find themselves sleeping side by side they never sleep back to back.

They can't.

If they sleep back to back Robin will wake in the middle of the night a silent scream on her lips. She'll feel Steve's back pressed against hers. Her brain will ask her if he's still breathing, is his heart still beating, she doesn't know the answer, why doesn't she know the answer, why isn't Steve moving?

They don't sleep back to back because Robin will be back in that room, she'll feel the cut of the binds on her wrist, her legs will feel the cold metal of the chair, her face aching a phantom bruise. Why isn't Steve moving, why isn't he speaking.

Steve?

Please don't be dead.

What did they do to you Steve?

Don't be dead please don't be dead.

Are you breathing Steve?

Steve please please answer me.

Why is your body so still Steve?

Don't be dead.

Why did you go instead of me?

Steve please.

Why Steve?

His body is moving now, wrapping his arms around her tightly, pulling her into him. She can hear his heartbeat now, it's so clear, so alive. She can feel his breathing now,arch it with her own as reality comes back into focus. He's alive.

He'll hold her through the night and every night after that, never turning his body again, never putting her back in that room again.

When I tell you this man is so fine.

When I tell you this man is SCRUMP-DILLY-ICIOUS 🤌🏾

"am I being annoying" are you aware that my heart is trying to crawl out of my chest to get to you

Steve - Robin wip

Doctor Who (2005) The End of Time: Part Two

Steve helpfully offering his hand to everyone boarding the boat, only to get ignored or unnoticed every single time. that’s it, that’s the post

USELESS

#We all need a platonic soulmate like Steve 

The Craft (1996) dir. Andrew Fleming

#We all need a platonic soulmate like Steve