Chapter Text
Robin didn’t even know what she did wrong.
It’d been a week since she’d last spoken to Nancy Wheeler, despite constant daily attempts to call her and explain. Or ask for an explanation. Or something, anything, because What the hell, Wheeler?
She’d tried to speak to her in person, as well – though Nancy could try her hardest, seeing her had been unavoidable as they prepared for the crawls to begin. But each time she made her way towards the flurry of brown curls, the girl would leave the room. Mumbling something about the bathroom, or helping Mike out, or anything she could think of to avoid her. And it made no sense at all.
She knew Nancy wasn’t homophobic. More than once, she had caught her and Jonathan exchanging knowing glances as Will stared at Mike. But she couldn't think of a more stereotypically homophobic reaction to anyone kissing a girl than the one Nancy had elicited. She’d quite literally left her face-down in the dirt, mouth full of dust and exhaust as she sped away.
Maybe it was a lesbian thing, she reasoned. It was fine if Will was gay, because he liked boys, but maybe Nancy was afraid Robin liked her, and that was the problem. In that case, she just needed some clarity. Robin was confident that, by explaining that she had no interest in Nancy, she could open the door for them to talk it out, and everything could go back to normal between them. In theory, it’d be fine.
But in practice?
Robin was hopelessly in love with this girl, and she was a horrible liar.
Considering what she knew now, Nancy wouldn't be wrong to recontextualize the way Robin’s whole body reddened awkwardly when wrapped around hers. The way that she smiled softly against Nancy's ear in the night, lying sprawled out like a starfish against her mattress, the girl taking shaky breaths against her chest. She would whisper her usual rambles into her ear, allowing her to focus on anything but the nightmares she was plagued with until she drifted off to sleep.
And Nancy wouldn’t be wrong to stare at Vickie Dunne and see a reflection of herself. Wide, bright eyes, long eyelashes, defined cheekbones, shorter stature. Her features were soft and sharp simultaneously, her smile tight-lipped and radiant. It didn't take a genius to connect the dots, and considering Nancy was a genius, Robin was almost certain she’d figured it out.
“What’s going on with you two?” Steve asked, as she slouched in his passenger seat, tracing patterns on the inside of a rain-fogged window. She hated how well he knew her.
“I don't know what you’re talking about,” Robin replied crossly, cursing herself as her voice lifted to a squeak, the way it always did when she told a lie. “Everything is perfectly fine.”
“Robin, don’t give me that shit.” Steve glanced at her with exasperation, his hands on the wheel as she drew stars against the glass. “For the past week, you’ve been looking at one another like two puppies that kicked each other in the wet little nose.”
She squinted at him, confusion visible on her face as she turned her entire body to face him. “I – What?”
Steve paused, then shook his head. “The point is, there’s clearly something up,” he sighed, his sharp voice softening slightly into something more genuine. “And I want my friends to like each other again.”
“Yeah, that’s what it is,” Robin muttered under her breath, unable to suppress the thorn of jealousy that pierced her heart. Ever since Nancy had broken up with Jonathan, Steve had been chasing her down like a bird of prey. Nancy hardly reciprocated, but it still bothered Robin to know that at least he had a chance with her. The girl had the capacity to be attracted to him, and she was stuck with her stupid straight-girl crush. She figured he’d better be grateful to have gotten anything at all.
“Yeah, that is what it is, actually.” Steve's reply came out flustered, shaky. “Listen. I like Nancy, but I also just… like her, okay? She’s sweet.” He paused, the irritation leaving his voice when he spoke again. “And I know you guys are friends, and I don't like the idea of you losing a friend, because I know she means a lot to you.” He glanced over at her, the smallest hint of a smile on his face. “Okay?”
Robin met his eyes finally, grinning back at him sympathetically. Steve was a dingus, a huge dingus, but he was also one of the kindest people she’d ever known. She had spent countless hours sitting in this very passenger seat with tears running down her cheeks, mascara running in tow, and he'd only ever responded with kindness and understanding. She relaxed into the leather, the tension in her shoulders easing up a bit. She was lucky to have him, to have someone to talk to.
It had been Steve who was there for her the night of her breakup with Vickie, the same night Nancy had left.
I'm not gonna tell anyone, the girl had spoken quietly through auburn lashes, her voice still carrying its signature softness. She had stumbled downstairs while Robin had chased Nancy down outside, only to find a wide, projected map of the military base’s weak points. It just seems like there's a lot you're hiding from me, and you have more important things to worry about.
Robin didn’t have much to say. Perhaps, she realized guiltily, it was because she was too focused on how perfect Nancy’s work was, or the still-lingering scent of Sharpie in the air, but she knew there was little she could add in her own defense either way. They had wished each other well before Vickie had driven off, leaving Robin, who was a bit too nervous to ask for a ride, stranded, her mouth tasting of a particular bitterness. That was when she’d called Steve.
You're too cool for her, anyway, he had teased, earning a half-hearted smile from the girl in the passenger seat. Robin didn't tell him what had happened. She didn’t tell him that she was more upset at the idea of losing Nancy Wheeler than her own girlfriend.
And that was the end of her short-lived relationship with Vickie Dunne.
“Listen,” Steve said gently, bringing Robin back to the present pitter-patter of the raindrops against the car roof. “Little Wheeler wants to have a movie night next week in the basement. He thinks it’ll be nice to pretend to be normal for a few hours.” He drummed his fingers against the steering wheel, glancing down, before he spoke again. “I want you to come. You guys can work your shit out there.”
Robin hummed in consideration. She wanted badly to talk to Nancy again, to wake up in the darkness of her bedroom after a nightmare, to share a beer on a cement roof. Even though she was in love with her, the girl was still her best friend, no matter what. She hadn’t let her attraction get in the way of that before, and she had no plans to let it happen now.
At the same time, she worried, what if she didn’t feel the same way? Robin had always felt as if she sort of forced her way into Nancy’s life. She had realized, after Starcourt, that the girl wasn’t the priss she’d always thought her to be, and was actually pretty badass. Most of their early interactions had been initiated by Robin, desperate to learn more about the gun-slinging, world-saving girl she kept hidden inside of her chest. The girl who, in the beginning, had not been amused by the antics of the gay loser trying to get her attention.
It didn’t take particularly long for Nancy to warm up to her. Perhaps it would have, if not for the whole end-of-the-fucking-world thing, but they say there’s a silver lining to every cloud. Hers was knowing Nancy Wheeler. Committing her smile to memory. Studying the lines in her face, soft and determined, as she stared beside her, looking slightly downwards. It became evident, over the course of their friendship, that they needed one another. And Nancy loved her, Robin realized one night, in a cold sweat, even if it wasn’t in the same way. Nancy loved her like a child loved their favorite stuffed animal, like the green grass loved the warmth of the sun. An innocent sort of reliance that drove her into a mad spiral. Would she really give that love up, just because Robin liked girls, liked her?
If she would, Robin decided with a new determination, she’d have to convince her otherwise.
She returned her attention to Steve, having made her decision. “What movie?” she asked, her tone even.
Steve inhaled sharply, as if he had been hoping for literally any other question. “...Back to the Future,” he confessed after a moment, scrunching up his nose.
“You’ve gotta be shitting me.”
Robin smoothed her uncooperative hair frustratedly as she walked up to the Wheelers’ front door, her shoes tapping against the cold gray pavement. On any other day, she’d have come in through a different entrance, climbing into Nancy’s window and into the soft pink walls of her room directly, but she figured that probably wouldn’t be received as well as it typically was, given their situation.
It was Mrs. Wheeler who answered when she knocked, seeming a bit annoyed with the amount of teenagers roaming her basement. She ushered her through the dimly-lit living room with irritated swiftness, showing her the door to the stairs as if she’d never used them before. Robin mumbled her thanks and took a deep breath, taking hold of the railing.
It was going to be fine, she told herself. Nancy was smart, and driven, and she knew Robin. It’d be idiotic, she affirmed to herself, for the girl to drop her just because of her sexual persuasions – after all, she was literally friends with Jonathan and Steve, two men who she’d both been attracted to and dated. Nancy was many things, but she’d never been a hypocrite. She took a breath as she felt the creak of the stairs below her, crossing over into the wooden space she knew so well by now.
It was Steve, of course, who first caught sight of her. “Buckley!” he called with a smile on his face. He seemed somewhat relieved to see another adult in the room, already exhausted from wrangling their younger friends on his own. His voice was genuine as he continued, “Glad you decided to join us.” She grinned, mouthing a Hey as she scanned the room around her in search of a seat.
Dustin and Lucas had firmly claimed the corner of the couch, talking amongst themselves in uncharacteristically quiet voices. Robin felt a pang of sympathy wash over her – each of the boys had been there to oversee one of the tragedies of that horrible, horrible night. With Dustin donning a wrinkly Hellfire shirt at his left side, Lucas’ right seemed unnaturally empty, missing Max there to hold his hand. They both shot her a wave as she walked past, and she tried to hide how goddamn bleak the sight made her feel.
Will, Mike, Erica, and Eleven had a bit more energy, painting minifigures in the center of the floor together, careful not to get the bright colors on the carpet below them. Will looked up at her nervously, stammering out, “Hey, Robin.”
She smirked. She found the boy’s admiration of her to be incredibly endearing. It was as if he could sense the queer radiating off of her body, and not in a bad way, not in the way the kids back in high school could. Though she’d never said anything to him directly, he looked at her with such an understanding, a sense of respect that made her warm inside. “How’re you doing, Byers?”
The boy opened his mouth to respond, but it was Mike who spoke instead, his dark brown eyes meeting hers evenly. “Nancy’s still upstairs. She’ll probably be down soon.”
Right. She inhaled sharply, exchanging a knowing glance with Steve. That’s why she was here, to watch a shitty movie about a guy screwing his mom and hopefully, hopefully talk it out with Nancy Wheeler. She felt herself deflate as she planted herself on the opposite edge of the old, patterned couch, dropping her bag on the floor next to her.
The group made small talk for around twenty minutes as Robin settled into the familiar room, trying to calm herself in the dim lights. With nothing better to do, she struck up a pretty interesting conversation about D&D with Will, who looked completely elated at her interest, rambling on about paladins and wizards and clerics and druids as he dragged a paintbrush carefully over the minifigure in his hands. She didn’t entirely understand the game, but she decided she’d probably be a chaotic-good rogue if she were to try it out. She found her nerves beginning to settle as she tried to decide on a name.
“Okay, so if you’re Will the Wise, I’d probably be Robin the… shit. What good words start with R?”
“Righteous,” Will suggested immediately, tilting his head.
“Yeah, but she’s, like, definitely not that. It needs to be accurate.”
“Well, you don’t have to do the whole alliteration thing, you know.” Will advised, a lightness in his voice.
She ignored him. “Rambunctious? Robin the Rambunctious? No, that’s stupid.”
“Robin the Ready?”
“Ready for what, exactly?”
“Battle, I guess –”
Erica turned to them with an irritated sigh, cutting them off. “As riveting as this discussion is,” she dictated snarkily, “I thought I was here to watch Back to the Future.”
Mike turned to her, mirroring her impatience. “I was gonna wait for Nancy.”
Shit. Robin remembered suddenly, nervousness twisting her gut back into its usual knot. Nancy. That’s why I’m here.
“Yeah, I don’t think she’s coming,” Steve sighed, shooting Robin a regretful look. She could see in his face that this had been on his mind for the duration of her conversation with Will, as he paced around the room. “Bad day, I guess.”
Robin spoke before she could stop herself. “I’ll go get her.” What the hell? Steve’s dismay turned to confusion as he met her eyes, an emotion she matched in her own. She opened her mouth, ready to take back her own words.
“Thanks, Robin.” Mike spoke before she could, exasperation filling his voice. “She’s probably doing her hair, or something. Just be quick, because my mom says everyone has to be out of here by 10:30.”
Yeah, that’s the thing, she kind of hates me right now, so, like, maybe someone else should – “Gotcha,” she muttered through gritted teeth, too timid at this point to take back the offer. Her legs were gelatin as she stood up and moved towards the staircase, swallowing her own fear.
Robin held her breath as she walked up the stairs and through the Wheeler living room, careful not to disturb a passed-out Mr. Wheeler in his armchair as she precariously tip-toed around the coffee table. As she began to climb the second set of steps up to Nancy’s bedroom, she felt her hand begin to shake. A part of her wondered, for a few moments, why she cared at all. This girl had left her in the mud, cold wetness enveloping her embarrassed face, and didn't even have the decency to say sorry. And yet here Robin was, making an effort to reach out. As she climbed the last stair and made contact with the carpet, she asked herself silently, Why?
Because you love her, idiot, she answered, turning the doorknob in resignation.
Robin took a breath as she gazed around Nancy's room. The floor was pristine as always, illuminated by a pale yellow light from the desk lamp. Her wire-frame bed was made with care, plush comforter tucked around the mattress and draped over a stack of lacy, frilly pillows. If Nancy wasn’t doing well, Robin figured, she hadn’t let it keep her from her usual tidiness.
The girl sat facing away from the door, her nose firmly in the book she was reading. If she noticed Robin had entered, which she guessed she had based on the way her shoulders tensed, she chose not to acknowledge it. Robin stood and stared at the curls falling over the back of her neck for a moment, her lips parting, before she continued into the room.
“Not into Back to the Future, huh? Me neither.” Robin said softly, sitting down beside her on the bed. Nancy didn’t look at her, but she could see puffiness in the corners of her eyes, as if she’d been sobbing for a long time.
“Go away, Robin.” she replied coldly, and, if Robin hadn't been listening so closely, she probably wouldn’t have heard the slight crack in her voice. She sighed.
“Nance, I just wanna talk, okay?” Normally, this is when she would reach to place a comforting hand over hers, but she figured it probably wasn't the time. Instead, she folded her palms in her lap, digging her nails into her own thighs as she continued. “If there’s a problem, I wanna fix it.”
For a fraction of a moment, during Nancy’s hesitation, Robin wondered if she was going to push her away, to scream at her. The thought shook her to her core, but, instead, the brunette sat silently, pursing her lips. She didn’t move, didn’t increase the distance between them.
“I don't have a problem with you liking girls, if that's what you're thinking,” She spoke finally, a soft whisper that worked to soothe some of the churning in Robin’s twisted gut. If she believed in a God, she’d have thanked him, at that moment.
“Then what is it?” Robin asked desperately, hoping her question didn't relay the silent Is it because I like you? too loudly.
Nancy turned to her at last, blue eyes meeting Robin’s own, and she could tell for sure now that she’d been crying. The lines under her eyes burned crimson, eyelashes still kissed with a slight wetness. “Do you love her?” She didn’t answer the question she’d been asked, but Robin didn’t miss the shake of avoidance in her voice, a soft sound that said that doesn’t matter.
“No,” Robin answered after a moment, with a frankly concerning level of ease. “We broke up.”
“Oh.” Was that relief in her voice? Robin shook her head, sure she’d imagined it, as Nancy continued, her tone hardening. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine, I don’t think she was right for me anyway.” She shrugged without emotion, breathing out. She hesitated before asking the question she was most afraid of. “Why’d you run away, Nancy?”
Robin watched as she drew her lip into her mouth, biting down. She clenched the covers of her bed with her free hand, the one that wasn’t still holding the now-shut novel. She looked beautiful, Robin realized suddenly, her pulse quickening. Even with reddened, puffy eyes, and tangled hair, and tense shoulders, and her bottom lip between her teeth, Nancy Wheeler was beautiful.
“I was scared.” she croaked out at last, her voice a whisper. “Not of you, but of myself.”
Robin took a sharp breath, furrowing her brow as she parted her lips. She tried her best to interpret the words, but she kept coming up empty as she searched the girl’s expression for an answer. “I don't… I don't understand,” she murmured at last. “I'm sorry, Nancy, I don’t understand.”
“That’s okay,” Nancy replied, taking Robin’s long fingers in her own. She felt herself heat up at the contact, her eyes darting down to gaze at the girl’s bitten fingertips with a small gasp. After a few moments, she looked back up at her face, and noticed Nancy’s cheeks were just as red as her own.
“I always hoped,” the brunette continued softly, her voice faltering as she tried her best to finish the sentence, “that it would be me.”
Nancy’s pupils were wide and wanting when she made contact again, staring up at her through dark lashes. After a moment, Robin blinked with understanding, breathing heavily.
“You wanted to make out with Vickie?”
Nancy’s lips parted, her eyes fluttering shut as she shot her a confused look. She chuckled. The taller girl stared down at her, unsure what she’d said that was wrong. “I – Robin.”
Her mouth moved faster than her mind did, as she started off on another ramble.“We’re still friends, Nance, so I could probably set you up with her, if you want that –”
She stopped in her tracks when she felt bitten, bloodied pink lips pressing against her own, a small hand snaking up to pull her closer by the cheek. And suddenly Nancy was kissing her.
Nancy was kissing her like it was all she had ever wanted, like she had no other option. Like she was freezing cold, drinking the warmth from her lips, as she climbed onto her lap for easier access.
And Robin was kissing her back, her eyes fluttering shut as she melted into the touch, grabbing mindlessly at the girl’s waist. Nancy’s hold was magnetic, and now that she had her, she imagined she'd be chasing after her for the rest of her life. As her tongue slipped into Robin’s mouth, she allowed the smaller girl to envelop her entire being, keeping her firmly in place. She threw her head back and bit her bottom lip, tasting of strawberry chapstick and blood as a calloused hand grabbed hold of her hair. Robin allowed the girl on her lap to guide her body to the bed, breaking apart only to feverishly adjust her position on top of her, never once letting go of her sandy locks.
Something about being below Nancy felt so right, she realized as she felt a suck on her bottom lip. Vickie was lovely and soft and just far too innocent. She never quite understood why Robin flinched when her hand wrapped around her wrist like a tendril aiming to kill, or why she always seemed so distant anytime the “earthquake” was mentioned. She was simple, and sweet, and had no desire to hurt.
Nancy wasn't like Vickie. Nancy had seen what Robin had been through, and she knew just how to handle her. The girl, despite her small, feminine appearance, was hardened and jaded. Her softness was locked just as deeply inside of her heart as her guns were inside of her closet. She was mean, and she could command a room with just one word.
But she could also be sweet, unbelievably so, when she stopped moving long enough to let her guard down. She could shift the moods of those around her with a hint of laughter. When things were calm, she could sit in silence, stroking her fingers over dark bruises in a way that said it’s okay, they won’t hurt you anymore.
Nancy Wheeler could be many different people, all at the same time. And Robin, she realized hungrily, needed her, in all of her forms, like water.
When the two finally pulled apart, Robin’s bangs were damp with sweat. Nancy peppered a few gentle kisses on her neck, and she couldn’t help the whimper that came out of her as lips met her skin. Soft brown curls trailed down towards her chest as the girl pulled away, the soft pink of her sweater matching the color of her cheeks.
“You.” Nancy panted, correcting her earlier assumption. It may have seemed obvious, but Nancy knew her well, and Robin already had an are-you-serious-do-you-really-like-me sitting eagerly on her tongue. Her thoughts grew quieter as, with wide blue eyes, the girl clarified, “Not Vickie, Robin. You.”
“Yeah,” Robin replied with a deep exhale, running a hand through her own hair. She wanted to tell Nancy how gorgeous she was, how she wanted to kiss her again, and again, and again. But, when she couldn't find the words, she settled on, “I want that, too.”
Nancy took the invitation with an anxious sort of longing, collapsing down over her lips again.
Downstairs, the dark wooden room was quiet, everyone waiting in eager anticipation for Robin and Nancy’s arrival. It wasn’t looking good, the sky outside growing dimmer by the second.
“Where are they?” Mike paced around the coffee table, growing more impatient by the second. “We're never gonna finish the movie, at this rate.”
“They’ll be down,” Steve insisted, but it seemed as if he didn't even believe it himself.
“If you're so sure, Steven, why don’t you grab them yourself?” Mike snapped. He wasn’t really sure why he was so irritated, or why he was taking it out on Steve Harrington of all people, but he made no effort to calm himself.
Steve shook his head, a bit taken aback. “Listen –”
“Just start it, nerd.” Erica muttered, not bothering to hide how the bickering irritated her. “They can come down later.”
As Mike put the tape in, giving in to his own defeat, he paused, squinting. Will gazed down at his figurine, refusing to engage, but Mike, glancing beneath short brown bangs, swore he saw a hint of knowing amusement on the boy’s face.