"It's fucking red , Robin!"

Robin Buckley wasn't able to often brag about being right, especially to Willow Jenkins. And as both girls met each other's wild gazes in the mirror, they both knew this moment would go down in their history.

"I told you not to trust me with your hair and chemicals! What do I look like, a chemist?"

"No, but-"

"Maybe a hairstylist? I mean, I do cut my own bangs-"

"Buckley!" Willow snaps, looking miserably in the mirror. They had gone to the store this morning, buying up box hair dye that promised soft, autumn ginger. But Willow's hair, even though it was wet, was very clearly not the soft ginger promised.

It was firetruck red.

"It's not even that bad," Robin starts to reassure her, "I think it looks badass. It could have turned out like, green or something. So at least we stayed in the warmer color range!"

"It's red ," Willow continues to whine, absolutely stunned. A heavy pit of anxiety settled in her stomach as she realized she had to go out in public like this, that everyone at school would see. And her mother, her sweet mother had no idea what idiotic idea she and Robin had gotten into this time.

"What's the commotion?" With impeccable timing, Willow's mother, Anna, suddenly appears in the bathroom door frame.

Her fatigue is clear on her face, the hazel eyes she passed down to her daughter dreary with sleep. She had obviously just woken up, messy bed head and all.

"Nothing!" Robin squeaks as Willow grabs for a towel to cover her hair. She probably should have warned her mother of the drastic change she had planned.

It takes a moment before Anna registers her daughter's hair. "What did you do ?"

"Mom, listen-"

"Your hair!" she fusses, walking over and flinging the towel off of Willow's head, "I... Willow, please just tell me this is a wig."

Instead of answering with her words, Willow reaches up and tugs on a crimson strand.

"If it helps, we were going for ginger," Robin sheepishly defends, lifting the box out of the trash.

"H-how..." Anna trails off, shaking her head, "Well, at least tell me you like it?"

Willow responds with, "I hate it!" at the same time Robin chimes in, "I think it looks lovely!"

Anna groans, "Oh, my sweet, sweet Willow. I don't have the money to take you somewhere to get this fix-"

"What? No, mom. It's okay. I dug my grave, I'll lay in it," Willow rushes out, not enjoying the prospect of forcing her mother to spend any unnecessary money on her, "Maybe it'll fade ginger."

"Maybe," Anna murmurs, running her fingers through, cringing when the wetness left behind on her fingertips is tinged scarlett, "Be careful of going to bed with wet hair for a while, love. I don't think you want your pillowcases to match your hair."

"I will. Go back to bed," Willow insists, grabbing her mom's hand from her scalp.

Robin nods beside her. "Yeah, go catch up on rest, Miss J. I'll take care of her."

Anna gives a teasing look at Robin before humming a farewell, walking back out. Neither girl says a word until they hear the click of her bedroom door.

"Well, that went well," Robin chides.

Willow can't even argue with that, Robin's right. She had been bracing herself for a much worse reaction. "Yeah. It did."

A silence blankets over the bathroom as Willow maneuvers to find her blow dryer, pulling out a round brush and avoiding looking into the mirror at all costs until it's absolutely necessary. As she pulls her hair roughly, she watches the shades that burst to life in her hair. It's not that the color wasn't pretty – it simply wasn't her. It was bold and lively, something that begged for attention. Willow was none of those things. She had only survived high school thus far by being a complete wall flower, only focusing on two things: being Robin Buckley's best friend, and getting good grades. Starting off senior year with this hair was going to go against every routine she'd perfected over the last three years.

"Hey, so, last night before I rushed over here," Robin starts once Willow puts down the dryer, "Steve was talking about the three of us going out. Said after that shit show we deserved a drink."

"Sounds great, except for the part where none of us are old enough to get into bars," Willow huffs, before sarcastically adding, "Oh yeah, and the part where I look like a goddamn clown."

"You don't look that bad! And Steve said he knows a place," Robin walks over to Willow, already making puppy dog eyes.

Willow has a hard time saying no to Robin to begin with, and between the glossy eyes and the knowledge that she and Steve basically went to hell and back the night before, she knows she has no choice. "What's the name of this...place?"

She shouldn't be shocked when not even an hour later, Robin is dragging her out to Steve's car.

"Ahoy, ladies! Welco-" Steve cuts himself off at the sight of Willow, "Holy shit."

Robin is about to say something, probably in Willow's defense, but she immediately holds up a hand. "It's awful, isn't it?"

"I wouldn't say-" Steve begins to say but Willow interrupts him.

"Be honest with me, Harrington, or so help me God, I'll shave your head," she threatens.

"Hey!" Steve physically moves himself and presses into his driver's side door, putting distance between himself and Willow, "Just because you fucked up your hair doesn't mean you have to come for mine next!"

"So you agree? It's bad?" Willow questions, pressing closer over the center console of Steve's car.

Steve clearly contemplates his next sentence. Willow watches as his eyes move in panic between Willow and Robin, and the sound of Robin clearly mouthing something over Willow's shoulder reaches her ears.

"Robin, stop coaching Steve on what to say. Harrington, lay it on me."

"Honest truth?"

"Honest truth."

"It's kind of hot."

Out of all the responses to her hair she'd expected from Steve, it wasn't that one. Both immediately flush red. Willow has never turned her head to look out the window faster. She barely even catches sight of Robin, grinning giddily, in the rearview mirror. Steve, on the other hand, sees it as he immediately looks to Robin in panic.

"See! I told you!" Robin breaks the tension immediately, absolutely beaming at her two friends, "You're welcome. Tell all your friends about the accidental genius that is Robin's salon."

"Oh, fuck off," Willow mumbles as she finally gathers the courage to face her friends again. She was almost dizzy as she processed what had just occurred.

Steve called me hot.

She's sure he meant nothing of it, but it didn't stop her heart from racing and her palms from turning clammy.

"Alright," Steve finally awkwardly says, situating himself into a driving position, "Let's go celebrate, shall we, ladies?"

Robin bounces her knees excitedly and Willow forces a smile, hoping her blush can be blamed on the new hair rather than the thoughts piling through her head at the moment.

As Steve drives the three of them towards the outskirts of town, they mostly allow the silence to be filled with the radio. There's the occasional sounds of distress that come from Robin in the backseat, clearly meant to be complaints of Steve's driving without saying anything.

"Buckley, put on your seatbelt," Steve finally sighs as they reach a particularly bumpy stretch of road.

Robin doesn't respond, instead glancing outside the windows of the car at the scenery bathed in the golden light of the sunset. "Where are we even going?"

"Seatbelt, seriously," Steve presses further, glaring through the rearview mirror, "And the only bar in town I know that doesn't card. The Hideout."

"The Hideout? Don't they have live music?" Willow asks, the name of the bar sounding familiar. She just couldn't put her finger on where she'd seen or heard of it before.

Steve shrugs. "Eh, sometimes. But no one good, most people only go because it's cheap and the whole 'doesn't card' situation."

Willow nods, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth, still racking her mind for where she'd heard of the bar before. She doesn't even notice Steve's gaze linger on her until she sees a deer in the distance. She awaits Steve to start slowing down for the deer, which hasn't fully crossed yet, but he's still barrelling full speed ahead.

"Steve," she says softly, finally looking over, slightly worried. He looks to have just snapped out of a daze.

"Yeah?"

He's still not slowing down.

"Steve!" she finally shouts, reaching over for the steering wheel. Steve finally looks forward and gasps, his own hands covering Willow's as they swerve the car to narrowly avoid the deer.

"Jesus christ!" Robin screams from the back, flailing herself as they jerk back into their lane.

Willow doesn't remove her hands immediately, softly panting from anxiety. Her hair is overflowing her shoulders, now in her line of sight. She doesn't even see Steve as he begins to stammer, looking ready to keel over in embarrassment.

"Holy shit, oh my god. I'm so sorry guys! Fuck, shit," Steve rambles. He finally removes the hand over Willow's to run it through his hair, clearly stressed. It's only once the warmth is gone that Willow begins to miss it.

"Steven Harrington, you better have a damn good excuse for almost committing vehicular manslaughter," Willow finally says as her hands return back to her lap. The entire car is clearly shaken.

"I...I just got distracted. I'm really sorry-" Steve's face flashes with enough guilt that Willow is prepared to no longer scold him, but they both suddenly hear a soft click from the backseat. Willow turns, giving a warning glance at Steve to keep his eyes on the road.

There in the backseat, Robin is pale faced, but finally buckled in.

—

"Are you sure they're not going to card us?" Robin asks for the fourth time since they've parked (Willow was keeping count).

"Rob, I'm positive. Also, all drinks are on me tonight considering I nearly killed us on the way here," Steve is walking backwards to face the two girls as they walk through the parking lot towards the small bar. It's in the middle of nowhere, the forest surrounding it. It's shape resembles a single-story log cabin, the only thing giving away that it's a bar being the large wooden sign that sticks out of the top, purposely cut with jagged edges and a messy paint job spelling out "The Hideout"in larger letters and "dive bar and live music" in smaller script, all in obnoxious yellow paint.

"Damn right they are, Harrington. Also, aren't you drinking? Do I have your blessing to drive us all home tonight?" Willow asks, quirking an eyebrow.

"No, it's okay, I can be DD," Steve insists, waving his hands as if to physically dissipate that idea.

"I'm not sure I love the idea of you driving us back home without Jenkins sober enough to save the day when you try to finish what you started with that deer," Robin grumbles, and Willow throws her head back in laughter. When she recovers, she watches Steve stumble over his steps as he's so focused on his friends he isn't watching where he's walking.

"Alright, Harrington. First of all, walk like a normal person," at this, he immediately faces forward and falls into step on Willow's right. "Second of all, I'm DD tonight. After all the shit you guys saw this last week..." Willow trails off.

"Oh, yeah, speaking of, how much... erm, how much did Rob tell you?" Steve asks, clearly trying to stay casual.

"Enough, we'll all talk about it later," Willow reassures him. She wasn't in the mood to talk about monsters while in the middle of the woods, with a quickly setting sun to their backs. Besides, she hadn't forgotten her promise to Robin - Steve wasn't to know that Willow knew monsters existed.

"Okay."

She hadn't expected Steve to agree so easily. But she could still see the injuries Robin had described to her, the black eye still swollen and the busted lip still a sore shade of pink. It made her chest clench. Tonight, she really just wanted her friends to have a good time. And if that meant being sober, it was a small price to pay.

The moment they walk into the bar, Willow takes note in how the building is split. To her right, there's several round tables, even a few booths that had clearly seen better days. In the far right corner, the bar lays secluded, with plenty of seating wrapping around it. This side of the bar is lifted slightly, and spreads a little over halfway across the building. It ends abruptly with railing, that stretches all the way to nearly the entrance. On the left of the railing, there's a small stage, an empty dance floor with sparse standing tables closest to the railing.

"Wow," Robin says, not looking particularly impressed.

"It'll do," Steve mumbles, leading the girls to the bar immediately.

The space wasn't particularly large, especially with all the stools and tables packed in. Despite the bar seating space occupying more space, the area designated for live music felt larger simply due to the openness of it all.

"Is a band playing tonight?" Willow asks as she catches sight of a few guys on the small stage setting up a drumset.

Steve shrugs, "I'm not really sure. Like I said, most people don't come for the live music."

Willow took in the other customers already there. There were two older gentlemen sitting at the bar, both hunched over with several seats between them. Clearly, neither were here to socialize. As Willow's eyes looked at the standing tables at the other side of the railing, she noticed that older gentlemen were the primary audience tonight. Two were standing in conversation over beer at the tables, and another was talking to a woman about his age, seeming to be holding a glass of whiskey. The woman had on cut off shorts and a tight, cropped t-shirt.

It was an interesting scene to say the least.

"We could ask the bartender!" Robin suggests, starting to pass Steve, but he holds out an arm immediately.

" Or ," he pointedly says as he makes eye contact with her, both stopped dead in their tracks, "We just mind our business and find out here within, I'd say like, an hour? If a band's performing it won't be long before they take the stage."

Willow nods at Steve's plan, not in the mood to really talk to most of the characters surrounding them. They take their seats at the bar, in three seats close to the door. The bar is shaped like an L, the longest span having patrons sit with their backs to the stage. The two stools Robin and Willow occupy lay in the shorter stretch, where the stage is now in their left peripheral. Steve takes the stool on the corner next to Willow, his back to the stage.

She doesn't pay much mind as her friends order something once the bartender makes his way to them. She's watching the final pieces of a drum set be set up, and swears the back of the boy's head who's setting it up looks familiar. Once he moves out of the way and somewhere offstage, she looks at the logo on the front of the kick drum.

It's a coffin outline with a bat overlapping it, clearly hand painted by the faint smearing along the edges and an obvious drip coming off of one of the bat's wings.

"That's...cool," Robin comments from beside Willow.

Willow is sitting closest to the stage, with Robin peering around her. "Yeah, I guess."

Her attention is finally forced back onto her friends as the bartender places the drinks order in front of the three. Willow realizes that, just as Steve promised, no one was carded.

"I'm not drinking," she says, starting to push away the tall glass of dark liquid that was sitting in front of her.

"Relax," Steve chuckles, "It's plain coke."

"Oh," she mumbles, only partially embarrassed as she takes the straw in the drink between her two fingers and swirls it. Once the glass is closer, she hears the fizz and can clearly smell that it is Coca-cola.

"So, I guess you're wanting to know more about the mall incident," Steve starts once they're all clearly settled in and more comfortable.

Willow immediately shrugs, "Something about Russians, right? Like some crazy crime-ring underground thing went down and the mall got burnt down?"

"Yeah, yeah," Steve looks relieved, probably happy that Robin seemingly didn't mention the monsters, "Did she mention how the Russians god damn kidnapped us?"

At this, Willow immediately reaches over and brushes a thumb over one of the bruises painting Steve's face, scrunching up her face. "Yeah, she also mentioned how brave you were and shit. Please stop being so stupid, though, Harrington. I'd like to keep you around a bit longer, preferably without a severe concussion."

Steve waves her hand away, "I'm fine. It's fine."

It's not addressed how Willow just called Steve brave, or how her touch probably lingered on his injury a second too long.

Robin opens her mouth, ready to ruin whatever moment that had just materialized between the friends, when there's a sharp whine of an amp being hooked up to an electric guitar. The lights of the bar dim slightly, and Robin scoffs as Willow's hair whips into her face from how quickly she turns her head.

"Wow," Robin starts sarcastically, "Your hair almost tastes as good as it looks Willo-"

She's cut off by Willow's gasp. "Holy shit ."

The shock in her voice is enough to force both her friends to focus their attention on the stage as well. Just in time to see him push a hand through his hair before he clears his throat into the mic, an electric guitar strapped across his body as one hand clutches the neck.

"Hello, everybody! We're Corroded Coffin!" None other than Eddie Munson yells into the front mic.

a/n: short ass chapter but the last one where eddie will be so MIA :-) we love someone getting to enter their red hair era, accidental or not !