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“Eddie and I are hosting Thanksgiving.” There’s no space for argument in Steve’s tone, his mind already made up. He’s not asking for permission, just letting Robin in on the plans.
“Shut the door, dingus, you’re letting in the cold air” Robin replies, and then frowns. “I thought you were having the dinner from hell with the family on Thanksgiving?”
“Okay, yes, I mean more of a Thanksgiving do-over, you know. Like the day after so we can heal from the collective trauma that Thanksgiving will give us.” Steve pauses. “Well, some of us.” Another pause. “You and me mostly.”
“That’s actually a good idea Steve,” she says, her tone making Steve roll his eyes. “Just us or the whole gang?” Robin busies her hands with the pile of tapes on the counter, picking at the label of Footloose.
If Dustin were there he would groan and scold her for saying the gang instead of The Party. Capital T, capital P.
“I was thinking the whole gang. My parents are taking off the next morning,” he scoffs. “Just long enough to keep up appearances. I want to have my real family around me to celebrate.” Steve ducks his head at the vulnerability of the statement. He hasn’t quite gotten used to outward confessions of affection for others yet.
Robin doesn’t let him steep in his discomfort for long. “Gross Steve, don’t get all mushy on me at 8 am on a Wednesday.” She pushes his shoulder and fake-gags.
“Fuck you Buckley.”
“Fuck you too.” She smiles. “Now are you going to help me open or are you just gonna stand around looking pretty?” Steve gives her a shit-eating grin and she regrets her words immediately.
“Awww you think I’m pretty?”
She shoves him again.
*******
Robin’s Thanksgiving is miserable, as expected. She tries to be comforted by the fact that Steve is probably suffering just like her, but it only serves to make her feel worse.
She counts the number of homophobic slurs her father uses while talking politics with her grandfather (five), how many glasses of wine her mom drinks before her eyes glaze over and she’s lost to the world (three), and how many times her existence is acknowledged besides being ordered around or yelled at (two - and one of them is a question about boyfriends from her grandmother).
When she lays in bed hours later, her jaw aches from the hours of it being clenched. There are crescents etched into her palms from clenching her hands for hours, a small distraction from the yelling and soft clinks of forks against plates tearing at her sensitive ears in equal measure. She has on her softest shorts and a t-shirt Nancy had left one day that she now covets. Still, every brush of her skin against the covers makes her feel raw.
She glances at the phone, debating if it’s acceptable to call Nancy.
She wants to hear the girl’s voice, even if she has to ignore the clench of fondness in her chest that she’d pushed and prodded at months ago, trying to form it into a platonic shape. She’d failed and done the next best thing, forcing it down deep and swallowing it every time it threatened to bubble up and suffocate her. It’s enough to have her around, she’d repeat over and over like a mantra. It’s been choking her anyways. She’s running out of air.
Her hands move on their own accord, grabbing the phone and dialing the Wheelers’ number before she can think about it too hard. It rings for a moment.
“Wheeler household,” Karen’s voice comes through the phone, pleasant and high-pitched.
“Hi, it’s Robin. Sorry to be calling on a holiday, I was just wondering if Nancy is available.” The formality in her own voice feels weird on her tongue. It makes her cringe.
“Oh, Robin! One moment.” There are a few muffled sounds from the phone as Robin plays with the cord, twirling and untwirling it around her fingers as she waits.
There’s a click and then, “hey Rob, what’s up?”
All it takes is the nickname and Robin’s voice is suddenly stuck in her throat. It feels like a thick mass, restricting her airflow and threatening to make her sob if she tries to say anything. She takes a deep breath around it.
“Robin?” Worry tinges Nancy’s words now.
“Hi.” Her voice sounds unnatural. She clears her throat. “How was Thanksgiving?”
It’s like Nancy picks up on the fact that Robin just needs a distraction, just to listen and not talk for a moment, because she launches into a story about Holly and mashed potatoes and Mike being an asshole.
The fondness she feels for this girl is overwhelming. She thinks she might cry for an entirely different reason now, and this, this is why Nancy can’t know the true scope of her feelings. She can’t afford to lose this brilliantly wonderful girl who takes the time to understand her, to take notice of Robin’s little cues and say exactly the right thing.
She lets herself get lost in Nancy’s re-enactment of dinner, and by the end there’s a small smile on her face.
“I take it yours went as poorly as expected,” Nancy says in a soft voice when she’s done. Robin laughs humorlessly.
“The only good part about it was the relief I got to feel when it was done.” Robin bumps her head lightly on her headboard, eyes tilted towards the ceiling.
Nancy hums and is silent for a moment. “Would you like me to read to you?” She asks, and Robin shuts her eyes against another wave of deep affection.
I want to sneak out and climb through your window, like you’re my girlfriend and I’m not allowed to be in your room with the door closed. I want you to read to me and card your fingers through my hair, and when you get sleepy I want to hold you through the night.
“That sounds nice,” she says instead. The unsaid words pile up like bricks on her chest.
“Ok, let me see.” There’s the rustling of sheets as Nancy moves, presumably to grab a book from her nightstand. Robin tries really hard not to think about the girl in bed, probably wearing her pajamas, maybe with hair damp from a recent shower. She really tries, but the image of Nancy in a nightgown flashes in her mind and her heart rate picks up entirely against her will.
“So all that I have on my nightstand is Hamlet, but I can go grab something else if you have a suggestion…” Nancy trails off and Robin rolls her eyes fondly. Shakespeare. Of course.
“Only you, Nancy Wheeler, would have Shakespeare an arms length away for some light reading.” The girl makes a small, defensive noise on the other side of the line but Robin continues. “Hamlet is fine with me. As long as I don’t have to be attempting to make heads or tails of what that man is trying to say. Thank God sophomore English is behind us.”
“I liked sophomore English,” Nancy responds, a hint of a smile in her voice.
“Of course you did, Wheeler. Of course you did.” Robin sighs. “Sometimes I can’t believe that we’re friends.”
“Well, shared trauma and all that,” Nancy pauses. “But I like to think I would have found you without it. Even though you thought I was a priss.” Robin opens her mouth to deny it. “And don’t try to say you didn’t. Steve ratted you out.”
“That asshole,” Robin curses.
“Even though you thought I was a priss,” Nancy repeats. “And we lived in two separate worlds. I like to think we’d get paired up on a project, or I’d have some story to write about the band and I’d interview you. I like to think we would have found each other.”
Found each other. God, if Nancy keeps talking like this she’s going to fall deeper. She wasn’t even sure that was possible.
“Me too,” Robin says after a pause. “Who knew you were such a romantic?”
Nancy laughs, and Robin can hear the rustling of pages as she opens the book and begins to read. She slowly drags herself back into a laying down position, one ear to the pillow and the other to the phone, locked in on Nancy’s smooth voice even though she barely understands the words that are being read.
It’s soothing in a way Robin doesn’t want to think about too hard, and pretty soon her eyelids begin to feel heavy, sleep pulling at them.
“That’s the end of act three,” Nancy says at some point, while Robin is drifting in that place halfway between wakefulness and sleep. “A good place to stop?” It’s a question and an offer in one. Are you ok? I will read for as long as you need me to, just say the word.
Robin hums in assent. “You know, maybe the Shakespeare unit wouldn’t have been so painful if I got to listen to you read it.” If sleepiness wasn’t clouding her mind, Robin would be mortified by her words. Instead, she flushes lightly at them while fighting to keep her eyes open. “Thanks for reading to me, Nance. G’night, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
The nickname slips off her tongue on its own accord.
“Goodnight, Robin.”
She’s asleep as soon as she hangs up the phone, one arm resting limply on the bedside table.
*******
(Robin’s voice is even raspier when she’s close to sleep. It’s things like these that Nancy tries hard not to notice, because she’s not supposed to get a squirming feeling in her stomach thinking about Robin’s voice.
Robin being upset isn’t supposed to make her want to climb out the window, curfew be damned, just to hold the other girl in her arms.
It’s things like these that Nancy tries hard not to notice, because it’s things like these that make her think maybe, just maybe, being friends with Robin isn’t enough, and that’s terrifying.)
*******
Robin leans her bike against the trash cans at the top of the driveway, making her way up the hedge-lined steps to the front door. She knocks, rocking back and forth on her heels as she waits.
After a moment Steve opens the door, brilliant smile on his face, one hand up in greeting and the other in his boyfriend’s back pocket.
Boyfriend. Robin is so mad that Steve is in a serious gay relationship before she is. She built that man, coaxed his bisexuality out of his dark spaces and into the light, told him that no Steve, it’s not normal to ogle other boys in the locker room, that’s actually pretty gay.
After all that, newly armed with knowledge of the word bisexual and his stupid, perfect hair, he had the absolute audacity to go find himself a boyfriend in less than a month. She’ll concede that Eddie had already been brazenly flirting with him, coloring his skin pink with an exaggerated wink or lude comment. Robin really shouldn’t have been surprised.
Any true sourness she may feel at the situation is wiped away when she’s pulled against Eddie’s jacket. He smells like cigarettes and leather and comfort, and suddenly the hell of the previous day seems a little more distant.
“Damn Buckley, you look like a true queer if I’ve ever seen one.” He grins at her and she mirrors it, doing a little twirl.
She’d put in an effort. A navy blue button down is tucked into gray slacks, the top few buttons undone to toe the line between scandalous and family-friendly. She ignores why exactly she needed to toe that line, who she’s trying to impress. Layered necklaces hang from her neck, matching the silver rings that adorn her hands. She does look queer, and she loves it, that feeling of finally having a place to be unabashedly herself.
“You really know how to flatter a girl, Munson. How’d you end up with that dumbass?”
The dumbass just gives her an unimpressed look and pulls her in for a hug of his own, ruffling her hair in the way he knows she hates.
“Hey Robs.” His eyes are soft and vulnerable in the way they always are after an interaction with his father. Like it’s cracked him open and he’s in the process of mending the little fissures. A look of understanding passes between them. I see you. It hurt, and now we are going to heal.
Robin smiles and looks past Steve and Eddie into the kitchen. “Am I the first one?”
“We may have told you to come an hour before everyone else…” Eddie gives her his trademark smirk.
“Fuck you guys, I was only,” she looks down at her watch. “Forty eight minutes late,” she finishes and then sighs. “Fine, point taken.”
As if to add salt to the wound, a car pulls into the driveway behind her. Nancy, arriving twelve minutes early. Of course.
She makes eye contact with Steve and suddenly the two of them are laughing, laughing because Robin is infatuated with this girl. This girl, who makes it to parties early while she’s pulling up almost an hour late. This girl, who is grabbing a casserole dish from Mike’s hands when Robin hadn’t even considered bringing something. This girl.
“What are we laughing about,” Nancy asks when she makes it to the front steps, Mike trailing behind. She’s wearing a dress that’s a little shorter than usual, and Robin has the insane urge to trail her hands along the hem, to touch the soft skin of Nancy’s thighs that she usually doesn’t get to see. God she’s hopeless.
Eddie shakes his head. “Fuck if I know,” he says and then turns to walk back into the house, leaving the two laughing idiots behind.
Steve takes the casserole dish from Nancy, thanking her and following his boyfriend in, and soon Mike is passing Robin and yelling out a question to Eddie about their newest campaign.
Robin turns to follow suit when Nancy’s hand grabs hers. It’s warm, all slim, dainty fingers and soft skin. Robin shudders in what she hopes is an unnoticeable way and contemplates her own, calloused hands, perpetually cold due to bad circulation. Not nearly as appealing.
“Hey,” Nancy says softly and Robin wants to melt into a puddle right there in Steve’s front entry. “I know yesterday was hard. Are you okay?”
That’s the thing about Nancy. She cares about people, unthinkingly, like it’s in her nature, the same way Steve does. It’s why she had tried to push them together months ago when they were trudging through the upside-down. Well that, and the terrifying spark of a crush she desperately wanted to snuff out before it grew. That fucking failed.
“I’m getting there,” Robin replies, and she realizes it isn’t a lie. This, being here, it’s helping wash away the disappointment she could feel in the eyes of her parents with every glance yesterday. Steve can be a genius sometimes, when he isn’t being a total idiot.
“Good,” Nancy says. “If you need anything…” She trails off, leaving the offer standing in the air between them. Her eyes dip to where Robin’s necklaces hang and the buttons of her shirt begin before snapping up to meet Robin’s gaze again.
“Thanks Nance,” Robin says softly. “You’re the best.” She smiles, a bright genuine smile, and gets one in return. It feels like a gift, one she maybe doesn’t deserve but will accept with open arms anyway. Maybe, like Steve, she too has cracks. And maybe Nancy Wheeler’s smile can pour cement into them, can make her good as new.
“Even when I make you listen to Shakespeare for night time reading?” Nancy’s smile grows impossibly wider and brighter.
“Well now that you mention it, maybe I’ll have to revoke that ‘best’ status.”
Nancy rolls her eyes and laughs, and the two make their way to the kitchen to join the boys.
*******
An hour later, the party is in full swing.
Steve and Nancy are manning the kitchen, and there’s a scary number of pots and pans on the stovetop. All four burners are going, and something is simultaneously in the oven. Robin thinks it’s the uncooked lasagna Nancy had brought in the casserole dish to take the place of a turkey. It smells really, really good, and Robin adds cooking to the long and ever-growing list of things Nancy Wheeler is good at, right under ‘handling guns.’
Eddie is sitting on the counter, swinging his legs and just generally being a pain. He occasionally steals Steve for a kiss or makes a comment about Steve’s ass in the jeans he’s wearing. Robin is very much into women but she will admit that those jeans really work for him, even as the thought makes her want to gag.
The living room is full of life and laughter, the younger boys on the couch arguing about what movie to put on, Max and El curled up in a chair not far away, whispering to each other and smiling, glancing over at the argument when someone yells particularly loud.
Jonathan and Argyle are in their own world, definitely high out of their minds, seated in the middle of the area rug. They’re pointing up at the ceiling, but when Robin looks up at it there’s nothing to be seen. Definitely high out of their minds.
It’s overwhelming, but not necessarily in a bad way. Robin cycles between the two rooms, joining the kitchen squad when things get too rambunctious in the living room. She’s been banned from doing anything helpful after nearly slicing off a finger when trying to peel the potatoes, so she joins Eddie on the counter.
She leans her head on his shoulder and he pats her thigh with a large hand.
“Looking good Harrington,” he whistles, and Steve sticks his tongue out childishly.
“You too Nance,” Robin adds in a sudden bout of confidence, and watches the girl’s cheeks color slightly as she ducks her head and continues cutting carrots.
Robin watches Eddie’s eyes track Steve as he moves around the kitchen, and there’s a sort of reverence in them, like Steve is a god to be worshiped. It’s an expression so open and filled with love that Robin has to look away, and when her eyes turn on Nancy she realizes that if anyone were to study her face it would mirror the same expression.
If there’s any human that deserves to be worshiped, it’s Nancy. Nancy, with Hamlet on her bedside table and two guns under her bed. Nancy, who fearlessly shot bullets through Vecna yet hugged her gently when she came out and told her that they’d all love her the same, that she’d love her the same. Nancy, who is here in the kitchen, looking every bit an eternal and untouchable deity. Robin is ready to get on her knees.
Pull yourself together, Buckley.
“Fuck,” Steve swears, pulling Robin from her hopeless pining. “I forgot the bread. We can’t have goddamn lasagna without bread.” He looks at Eddie pleadingly.
“I’ll have to drive your car, you picked me up, remember?” Eddie hops down from the counter, grinning.
“Okay no. No, I love you babe but you’re not driving my car. You’re a goddamn menace on the road, and if it gets dented or scratched that’s my ass on the line.” Steve sighs. “My asshole father cares about that car more than me.”
Eddie groans but puts a hand on Steve’s forearm and meets his eyes with a soft look.
Steve looks at Robin and she just shrugs. “Biked here, still poor.”
“My lord you guys are useless. I’m guessing Jonathan and Argyle are a no-go?” Robin glances out into the living room where they’re still laying on the carpet and nods.
“I’ll go,” Nancy says, grabbing her keys from the counter as Steve protests. “This is your kitchen, I won’t be able to find anything without you. Just take the lasagna out in ten minutes. And Eddie,” The boy’s eyes snap up. “Cut these carrots and try not to lose a finger.”
He gives her a salute and reaches for the knife. “Yes ma’am.”
Nancy turns to leave the kitchen, pausing in the doorway and looking back at Robin. “Robs, you coming?” She says, and Robin stares at her for a moment. She says it like it’s expected that Robin would go with her. Like she wants her to.
“Uh-,” Robin stumbles over her words. “Yes, yes coming.” She gets off the counter ungracefully and stumbles before righting herself. She shares a glance with Steve and then follows Nancy out the door.
*******
Robin fiddles with the cassettes in Nancy’s glove box nervously. A thousand thoughts run through her mind, some too fast for her to even glimpse, but she doesn’t verbalize any of them. She’s worried about what will come out of her mouth if she decides to speak, worried it will be something along the lines of God, I really want to kiss you.
Nancy’s teeth worry at her bottom lip, and her dress covers impossibly less of her thighs when she’s sitting. Robin’s skin feels too tight for her body as she catalogs these details, trying to push them down, to tear her eyes away. Nancy can feel her staring, she has to be able to, but she hasn’t said anything.
When Nancy does open her mouth, it’s to say, “Steve and Eddie, huh? Who would have thought?”
Robin laughs. “Steve Harrington from two years ago would probably faint if you showed him his future, the dingus that he is.” And then softer, “But they’re good for each other. It just makes sense for some odd reason.”
“It does,” Nancy agrees.
“But I can’t believe that asshole got a boyfriend before I got a girlfriend. When I told him about my crush on Tammy Thompson on the floor of the Starcourt Mall bathroom, he said ‘but Tammy Thompson’s a girl.’” She shakes her head. “Granted we were drugged out of our minds, but seriously?”
Nancy laughs, a genuine laugh, and glances at Robin. Their eyes meet and Robin is in free fall, once again, over those earnest blue eyes. She turns her attention back to the road, leaving Robin feeling bereft.
“Maybe you just have higher standards,” Nancy teases. “Or you’re just too good for anyone.”
“Uh huh,” Robin smiles. “I guarantee that I am not. Anyone who dates me has to deal with my rambling, and Steve being my platonic soulmate, and the fact that I’ve never even kissed a girl before.” She flushes. Why did I say that?
Nancy pulls into the parking lot of the supermarket. “Well, I don’t mind your rambling.”
“You flatter me, Nance,” Robin’s cheeks darken as she opens her door and steps out of the car. “Unfortunately, you’re not trying to date me.”
Nancy stares at her for a moment. “And if I was?”
Robin’s mind goes completely blank, and it’s a joke, it has to be a joke, and a cruel one at that because Robin wants it to be real so badly. She opens and closes her mouth a few times, at a loss for words. Her eyes lock with Nancy’s and she still can’t think of a single thing to say.
There’s a war happening in her body, one side begging for Robin to push, to ask Nancy what exactly she means by that. It throws around the phrase what if. What if it’s real? What if you could have her?
The other screams at her to pretend nothing happened, not to take a leap off a cliff that has as good a chance of landing her on concrete as it does in water. This is the safer side, the side that gains strength from Robin’s insecurities. This is the voice that asks why Nancy Wheeler would want anything to do with someone like her, that it’s a miracle she gets to be the girl’s friend, that she should be content with that and not be greedy.
It’s the latter side that wins out in the end, because when she looks up Nancy has turned and begun walking towards the store. Robin’s heart sinks in her chest, more conflicted than she’s ever felt.
She stays silent.
*******
(It hurts. It hurts because getting up the courage to make a move has ended in awkward silence and Nancy is scared, she’s terrified, that she’s ruined it, broken the fragile balance they had. It hurts because Robin likes girls, so it must be that she just doesn’t like Nancy. It hurts because now Robin won’t meet her eyes, hasn’t said anything. She’s gotten pretty good at reading the girl and right now she can’t. It hurts.
Nancy’s eyes burn and there’s a perpetual lump in her throat that she can’t swallow around. She can’t form any words to try to make this better, so she just sits in the misery, lets it slowly consume her as Robin peels at her cuticles beside her, eyes jumping around the bright store but not at her. Never at her.)
*******
The war in Robin’s body is still in full force on the drive home. There’s something about being in cars that makes Robin want to spill out her soul, makes her want to put all her shameful feelings on display and say this is how I feel, please don’t hate me when you’ve looked through it all.
The feeling of suffocation that has been building for months grips at her throat, stronger than ever. And the thing is, this would be the best moment to tell her, because Nancy might have made an admission earlier, one that Robin could reciprocate. If it wasn’t, well Nancy deserves to know the way Robin thinks about her regardless.
“Nance,” Robin says, her voice shaking almost as much as her hands. The silence between them is finally broken. “Pull over.”
There’s no backing out now, as Nancy does what she says without question. Robin turns her head and meets Nancy’s worried gaze. It’s intense in a way that both draws Robin in and makes her want to look away.
She takes a breath, holds it for a moment, then exhales. “I need to know what you meant before.” She clears her throat to get rid of the extra raspiness that has built up from disuse, from words going unsaid between them. “I need to know if it was real or if it was a joke because I keep replaying it in my mind and it’s making me sick not to know.” Robin is horrified at the tears she can feel spring to her eyes. She feels like her chest is torn open and there’s no way that Nancy can’t see her true feelings now. It’s mortifying.
“Robin,” Nancy says softly, and she grabs Robin’s hand. “Of course it wasn’t a joke. I wouldn’t joke about something like that. I thought…” she trails off. “I thought I made you uncomfortable. You got so silent.”
And now Robin feels so incredibly stupid because she’d made Nancy, her Nancy, undoubtedly the most beautiful and intelligent girl she’s met in her eighteen years of existence, feel unwanted. Made her think that Robin didn’t reciprocate her feelings when that couldn’t be further from the truth.
“I’m sorry, I’m an idiot. Just sometimes I need time to process things, like a lot of time, and this was definitely one of those things because oh my God, I’ve been pining after you for so long and every single bone in my body was in disbelief at the idea that maybe, just maybe, you could want me too. And I know I probably made you feel like I was brushing you off, but I promise that I wasn’t and -”
Nancy squeezes her hand. “Robin, slow down, it’s okay.”
“It’s not okay because I am so incredibly fond of you, Nancy Wheeler, that I have been choking on it. I am fond of you in a way that friends aren’t supposed to feel and I’ve been trying so hard to push it down because I didn’t want to lose you. But then you wear dresses like that and you read me Hamlet when I’ve had a bad day, and you’re gentle and patient and it was choking me.” And now Robin is crying, half of it in relief at getting to say this after so long.
Nancy's thumb brushes across her cheekbone, gathering the tears caught there, and Robin’s breath catches in her throat. All it takes is a gentle touch and she’s been struck silent.
“I know the feeling, more than you can possibly know. I know the feeling because your voice is raspy and alluring and drives me crazy, even when you’re using it to ramble on and on about something random. Maybe I even like it more when you’re rambling.” She throws her hands in the air, as if in defeat from that point. “I know the feeling because every time I see your hands, which manage to be cold at all times, I am in physical pain trying not to grab them. I know the feeling because you show up to Thanksgiving dinner dressed like that,” she gives Robin a once-over to emphasize her point, “and I’m supposed to pretend that it’s not the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”
Robin smiles. “You like my outfit?”
Nancy sighs in exasperation. “That’s what you got from all that? God, I can’t believe I keep falling for complete idiots.” Her tone is harsh but her smile gives her away, and Robin can’t help but return it.
“I’ll have you know, I speak four languages,” Robin says and then Nancy’s hand has grabbed one of her necklaces and she’s pulling her closer.
“Of course you do,” Nancy whispers, and then they’re kissing.
They’re kissing and Robin has absolutely no idea what she’s doing, but Nancy does and then Robin stops thinking altogether. All that exists is the slide of Nancy’s lips, the smell of her perfume, the feeling of her hand on Robin’s neck, firm and gentle all at once.
It takes a moment before Robin realizes that she’s allowed to touch, and then one of her hands flies to Nancy’s waist, rucking up the soft fabric of her dress. It’s a little awkward, the center console of the car in the way, but it doesn’t matter because she gets to touch and it’s magnificent.
Nancy’s hand slides up to play with the roots of Robin’s hair and then she’s moaning quietly into the kiss. Nancy pulls away and looks at Robin’s burning face, the pale skin of her cheeks that are surely bright pink.
“You’re amazing,” is all she says, and then they’re kissing again, Robin’s hands wandering up to Nancy’s neck and back down to the thighs that she’s been itching to touch all day. It feels like they’ve come full circle and Robin almost laughs at the thought because it’s ridiculous.
A few minutes later, Robin, with strength she didn’t know she could muster, pulls away and Nancy whines, honest to God whines, at the loss.
She looks like something from a dream, lips dark red, hair a bit askew from Robin’s hands, bottom of her dress riding up. Someone has taken Robin’s deepest fantasies and placed them in front of her. It can’t be real.
“We better get back before Steve burns down the kitchen,” Robin says, reluctance heavy in her voice, and Nancy groans. It causes a spark of pride in Robin’s chest because Nancy doesn’t want to go back. She wants to stay here with Robin and kiss in her car on the side of the road.
“I hate that you’re right. Him and Eddie in that kitchen…” Nancy shudders. “Yes we’d better get back.”
She starts the car, biting on her shiny bottom lip. I did that.
“Nance?” She says before she can stop herself.
Nancy’s hand pauses on the gearshift and she turns to look at Robin. “Yes?”
“Will you be my girlfriend?” Robin’s voice is painfully shy. It feels like a leap, even though she’s pretty sure she knows what Nancy will say.
“Only if you’ll be mine.” She smiles and leans in to kiss Robin, softly, one more time before putting the car into gear and edging out onto the road.
*******
They open the front door to Steve cursing, and Nancy is whisked away to assist in the kitchen again. Robin trails after her and finds Eddie back at his post on the countertop.
“Thought you were helping,” Robin says, watching Nancy bring order back to the kitchen with swift efficiency. The sight makes her miss Eddie’s reply.
The realization that she’s allowed to watch Nancy like this, watch her girlfriend look absolutely hot while cooking dinner, hits her square in the chest. She doesn’t need to feel the shame that usually accompanies her gawking. She can stare as much as she wants.
Eddie waves his hand in front of her eyes and then shoves her lightly. “Keep it in your pants Buckley,” he grins.
Earlier, the comment would have scared her, terrified that if Eddie could see her true feelings then so could Nancy. Now, she just gets to tease back. “You first, Munson.”
“Never.”
They bicker for a bit, until Steve yells to the kids to come help set the table. A collective groan sounds from the living room as they slowly get up and lumber to the kitchen.
“I’m feeding you little shits, so you better stop complaining and go set the prettiest goddamn table I’ve ever seen.”
“Yes, sir,” Mike snarks, and Steve turns a glare on him that says try me, I dare you.
“Six little nuggets,” Robin whispers to Eddie and the man starts cackling, banging his head on the counter behind him. Nancy snorts from her place at the sink, sending Robin an amused smile.
“Hey! What’s going on over there?” Steve looks at them suspiciously.
“Nothing for you to worry your pretty little head over Harrington.” Eddie smiles sweetly and Robin follows suit.
Steve narrows his eyes and places a piece of garnish on the large bowl of mashed potatoes. “Done.” He holds up a hand for Nancy to high five and she indulges him, rolling her eyes.
“Not bad for a couple of traumatized teenagers,” Robin says, and then looks at Eddie. “Well, mostly teenagers, plus Mr. high school graduate at 20 over here.”
“Fuck off, Buckley.” He holds up his middle finger but there’s no real heat behind it.
Steve hops up on the counter beside Eddie and Nancy comes to stand on the other side of Robin, sliding her hand on the counter until their pinkies are touching. Robin smiles at the contact.
It’s in this moment, listening to the younger kids bicker with Jonathan and Argyle (who must’ve finally gotten up off the floor) in the dining room, looking at Steve and Eddie and finally at Nancy, that Robin realizes she has a family.
Steve had said it before, when he proposed the idea for this dinner, but he was right. These people, who all went to hell and back together, who would die and kill for each other, who are the bravest people Robin has ever met in her life, they are more of a family to her than anything decided by blood.
It is here that she first felt truly accepted, like being who she was, loving women, wasn’t something that was wrong with her. It is here that she found Eddie, who was like her, and then Will, who she taught all the lessons she had endured so hopefully he wouldn’t have to. It is here that she found herself with six children, all of whom she would protect with her life. Even Mike, that piece of shit. It is here that she found Nancy, who she never, ever expected to fall for.
She would never wish to have to endure the events of the past two years, but she thinks that if she had to go through all that, at least it gave her this.
“What are you thinking about?” Nancy’s voice snaps her out of her reverie.
“Just these people,” Robin says. “I never thought I’d have this, a family like this, someone like you.”
Nancy looks at her so tenderly she thinks her heart is going to burst. This is how I go. I made it through Russian drugs and the upside down just to die via pretty girl.
“Me neither,” she says. “But I think we deserve it, after everything. Don’t you?”
“Yeah,” Robin says. “Yeah, I do.” She thinks she’s going to kiss Nancy Wheeler in the middle of Steve’s kitchen when Dustin appears, scaring the shit out of her.
“Oh my God, kid. Where the fuck did you come from?”
“The dining room,” he says and she sticks her tongue out at him childishly. “The table is set, your highness.” He bows to Steve, who punches him lightly in the arm.
They all grab a dish from the kitchen counter and follow Dustin out to the dining room. The kids have taken their seats already, and Dustin slides into the one next to Will. There’s four seats left: one for Steve at the head of the table, one for Eddie on his right, and two side-by-side on his left. Robin smiles at them. Her and Nancy, side-by-side.
The napkins are folded haphazardly and the cutlery isn’t uniform, but it’s perfect nonetheless. Maybe those things make it even more perfect.
The four of them take their seats, and there’s a moment of silence before Steve says, “let’s eat!”
Everyone digs in, passing the dishes around and talking amongst themselves. They’re all together, and there’s no interdimensional creature to battle. They’re happy.
Nancy is talking to Max across the table and she looks absolutely beautiful like that, hair falling in front of her eyes for a moment, a bright smile lighting up her face.
Robin wants to kiss her. It hits her all at once that she can, and once that thought has crossed her mind, there is no going back on it. Nancy pauses mid-conversation to look at her quickly and Robin leans in, kissing her chastely, just a soft brushing of lips.
Everyone goes silent, and then Dustin says, “finally!” and the room is filled with laughter.
“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me, you asshole!” Steve yells above it all.
“In my defense it only happened an hour ago, and I was already worried about you burning the kitchen down. Who knows how you would have reacted.” She shrugs, but tries to convey with her eyes that she’d wanted to get to tell him.
He glares at her, but it’s playful. Then he smiles in a way that says I’m happy for you and Robin suddenly wants to collapse into his arms because Steve, her Steve, is the absolute best friend she could ever have. Steve ‘the hair’ Harrington. Who would have thought?
“What was that for?” Nancy asks, when everyone has calmed down, the excitement over for now.
Robin shrugs. “Because I could, and that felt like much too good of an opportunity to pass up.” She pauses, worry filling her. What if Nancy didn’t want people to know about them? “Sorry, I should have thought it through more. Was it okay?”
“More than okay,” Nancy responds, and kisses her again to seal the point.
A wolf whistle comes from either Steve or Eddie, and Robin puts up a middle finger, eyes still locked on Nancy’s.
*******
Many hours later Robin shuts the door to one of the numerous Harrington house guest rooms, taking in the sight in front of her. Nancy is sitting on the bed, her back propped against the headboard. She wears a soft t-shirt and shorts, just like Robin, and it’s more breathtaking than it probably should be.
“Hey,” she says stupidly.
“Hey,” Nancy responds. “Come here.”
Robin complies immediately, pausing to take the many rings off her fingers, placing them on the bedside table with a clink. Nancy tracks the movement, and Robin remembers what she’d said earlier in the car about her hands. She smirks.
When she’s finished she pauses, her heart beating loudly in her chest, unsure. She’s sure Nancy can hear it from the few feet there are between them. The girl opens her arms in invitation and Robin climbs onto the bed and into them, her head resting on Nancy’s chest.
The rhythmic sound of Nancy’s heartbeat and the soft material of her shirt grounds Robin and she sighs happily. This is a safe place. It’s been so long since Robin has felt as safe as she does now. She’s still half freaking out because she’s in bed with Nancy Wheeler, and Nancy Wheeler is her girlfriend, but it’s a good kind of freaking out.
Nancy’s hands card through her hair and she’s struck with how similar this is to the fantasy she’d had last night of climbing through Nancy’s window for this exact thing. Had that really been just yesterday?
There’s something peeking out of Nancy’s overnight bag that catches her eye, and Robin breaks away from the embrace for a moment to reach down and grab it. Hamlet. Of course.
“You, Nancy Wheeler, are truly a wonder.”
The girl blushes. “Not as much as you, Robin Buckley.”
They sit there for a moment, content to just take each other in, to revel in the fact that they get to do this, to lay in the same bed and hold each other. It’s not going to be simple, it never will be when the world hates the kind of love they have, but for now they get to have this safe little bubble.
“Nance?” Robin breaks the silence. Nancy’s expression turns questioning and Robin holds up the book. “Read to me?”
She does.