He was used to waking up feeling like shit by now. Between all the times he'd been beaten half to death, pain was like his shadow. Luckily, no one had laid a hand on him this time. All he'd done was get some water in his ear when he went swimming (in the public pool-he'd been too weirded out to use his own pool ever since Barb disappeared in it). The sensation had been driving him crazy, and yesterday it had turned into pain.

The light streaming in through the window was too bright. Shit, what time was it? He looked at his alarm clock, and bolted upright, aggravating his headache. It was ten in the morning. He was an hour late to work. How had he slept through his alarm? Granted, his ears were ringing, but surely he would have heard it anyway.

He peeled himself out of bed and threw on his work clothes. He was just starting on his hair when the phone rang. He raced down the stairs, nearly falling flat on his face as he missed a step. "Harrington residence-"

"Steve, where the hell are you?" Yep. Robin was pissed.

"Uh…"

"The entire A.V. club is here."

"I'm on my way."

"Do you have any idea what time it is?"

"Yeah, yeah, I said I'm coming." He hung up the receiver and looked for his shoes. He really did feel like shit. But Robin needed him. Not bothering to eat breakfast or finish with his hair, he grabbed his keys and started up the car.

Through his muffled hearing, he could just make out the sound of the door jingling as he entered the video store.

"Harrington!" Robin called out from behind the counter.

"I'm sorry, I…" He paused, unsure of how to proceed. He didn't have a good excuse for being late, now that he thought of it.

Robin looked him up and down, taking in his bedhead. "Did you just wake up?"

"Maybe."

She applauded him sarcastically. "Good. Good job. Whatever, can you handle the register for a minute?"

He swiveled to follow her as she started walking away. "Where are you going?"

"Um, to pee? Is that not allowed?"

Steve rolled his eyes, and replaced her at the register. He'd never seen this many people in the store at once. Some kid he vaguely recognized from his time at Hawkins High approached, ready to check out. Steve rang him up, struggling to calculate the change. He swore he wasn't stupid, it was just hard to think for some reason. Not to mention he was sweating from rushing to get here.

When Robin returned from the bathroom, she stocked shelves, letting Steve handle the last of the A.V. club. When the crowd finally thinned out, she leaned against the counter. "You're not hung over, are you?"

"No? What the hell?"

Robin shrugged, apologetic. "You look like crap. And you were late. And I've never seen you without your hair done."

"I'm not hungover!"

"I believe you. I'm just saying." She looked around, making sure the last of the customers were out of the store, then hopped onto the counter to sit. "So, why were you late?"

"Overslept."

"Why?"

"I don't know. What's with the third degree, Robin?"

"We had a line out the door this morning. Can you believe it? Something about May fourth."

"It's a Star Wars thing. May the fourth be with you." When Robin gave him an amused look, he added, "Dustin told me."

An hour passed, and only a handful of customers passed through. Having finished their meagre duties, the two were left to slack off and merely hold down the fort. Steve leaned forward, resting his head in his arms.

"You okay?" Robin asked with surprising softness.

"Yeah," Steve said, panting for breath. The room was spinning.

"Are you sick?"

"No."

"Liar. Go hang out in the break room, I've got things under control out here."

"You sure?"

"Let me check." She pretended to survey the empty store. "It'll be rough, but I think I can handle it."

"Thanks, Robin." He lifted his head slowly and waited for the spinning to stop before he made his way to the couch in the break room. Uncomfortably hot though he was, it didn't take long before he was asleep. A lot of nights he dreamed of the monsters, and this nap would be no exception. He tossed and turned restlessly in his sleep, fighting the garbled suggestions of beasts that made his way into his subconscious.

He awoke to Robin shaking his shoulder, a worried look on her face. "Hey, Harrington."

"Was I asleep?" He asked, rubbing the grit from his eyes.

"No duh." She was kneeling on the floor besides the ratty sofa, a first aid kit in her hands. "I think you have a fever."

"Huh?" He couldn't quite make out her words, and at this point he wasn't sure if it was the ringing in his ears or something else. Regardless, she sounded far away, like a scratched record playing in another room.

She held up a thermometer. "Open up."

Trying to spare himself a little dignity by taking his own temperature, he reached for the thermometer with trembling hands. Robin glared into his very soul while they waited. It was unnerving, to be honest.

"Your eyes are bloodshot, you know," she said.

"I was just asleep," he mumbled around the thermometer.

"Shh, no talking." She went to the fridge in the corner and took out her lunch, a fast food burger, which she popped into the microwave. "You can talk when that's done."

He let his eyes droop shut while they sat there quietly. He was nearly out again while Robin plucked the thermometer from his mouth.

"Yup, I was afraid of this," she mused.

"What?"

"You have dumb dingus disease."

Steve scoffed.

Robin said, "I'm gonna call somebody to pick you up."

He began to protest. "Aww, Robin-"

"You can't drive home and one of us has to finish this shift. Come to think of it, did you even clock in?"

Steve thought for a moment. "Shit."

"Right. Get some more beauty sleep, you need it. I'll be back in a jiff."

He sat up and called after her, "can't I just-"

"No!"

"You don't even know what-"

"Nope. Nice try."

Steve huffed and plopped back against the couch.

Robin came back a few minutes later and opened the microwave. "Forgot my burger."

"Who did you call?"

"The CDC. Bad news, they said dumb dingus disease is incurable."

"Shut up."

"Just kidding. I called Mrs. Beyers. Jonathan picked up."

"Oh, come on. They're at least going to take me back to my own house, right?" Nothing. "Right, Robin?"

She shrugged, noncommittal. "Up to them." She put a hand to Steve's forehead and he flinched, taken aback. "The A.C. is up too high," she lied. "I need a hand warmer."

"Is it that high?"

"101." She wiped her hands on her pants and tucked into her burger. "I had a fever of 103 once when I was a baby. My parents took me to the hospital."

"Were you okay?"

"I'm here, aren't I?" She sighed, and looked at her best friend. "I hope you're okay."

"I am."

"You always say you're fine. I've seen you say you're fine with a face like a busted tomato. How do you feel?"

"Not as bad as I did after the Russians."

"Geez, I hope not. Seriously, though?"

He took a mental stock of his body. "I think I'm okay."

"Okay." She patted him on the head. "You want a burger? I got sliders."

His stomach turned. "Nah. Thanks, though."

"Welcome."

They sat there together until Jonathan arrived. Robin insisted on seeing Steve out to the car, not leaving until after he was buckled in. "I'll come check on you after work. Be a good patient."

"Yeah, whatever. See you, Robin."

"See you, Harrington." She turned to Jonathan. "You better take good care of him."

Jonathan nodded, and closed the car door. "Why did that sound like a threat?" He asked Steve.

"It probably was."

"Remind me not to piss her off."

Steve watched her stand in front of the video store, her arms crossed, until they pulled out of the parking lot and she went back inside. He wouldn't admit it, but he hoped she did visit after work. He was still getting used to this whole people caring about you thing. It was a learning curve, but he could get used to it.