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Nancy doesn't really drink at parties anymore; she thinks it makes her too emotional, too unpredictable, and too vulnerable for her own liking. She likes to have control over her words and her actions, and it's no different tonight. Even if it's her very own birthday party and at least four different people have practically begged her to join in on shots or whatever it is they're up to in her living room. She's content, however, to refuse them and wander around and smile at everyone who wishes her a happy birthday and vaguely wonder why half of these people even showed up. In fact, she's more than happy to be sober enough to watch over her youngest guests and snatch the stolen joints out of their fingertips and ignore their indignant protests.
It's not like she'd necessarily wanted her little brother and his friends at her 22nd birthday party, but Mike had begged and Mike had pleaded and Mike had insisted until Nancy gave in after the third guilt trip he'd laid on her, that he barely gets to see her now that she's off at school in Boston and he and the other kids missed her and wanted to come up to the city to celebrate her birthday. (Because where one of them goes, everyone else apparently goes, too.) Nancy is pretty sure they all just want to celebrate the free and endless supply of booze, but she'd agreed, and now she's responsible for the six underage teenagers scattered across her apartment, already buzzing after one beer and definitely the loudest and most obnoxious people at the party. She's okay with it, though. Babysitting keeps her busy and means she has a moral older-sister obligation to not get drunk, which means she's also less likely to twist herself into a guilt-ridden spiral about things she doesn't want to think about. Like Robin.
Nancy’s pretty sure she'll think about her regardless of her sobriety level.
Robin, who should've been here tonight, who was going to be here tonight until that stupid afternoon a week ago with the fight and the accusations and the words neither of them should have let slip.
Robin, who, if she were here right now, would have an arm around Nancy's waist, her warm fingers pressing into her skin beneath the hem of her shirt. Nancy would be enjoying herself a lot more and she'd probably be at least a little bit drunk, at ease in Robin's grip. Safe. But that was before the goddamn fight and the rotten words that had wormed their way out of Nancy's mouth and the shocked, wounded look on Robin's face, and the equally foul words that she'd yelled right back, hitting Nancy square in the chest with their blunt, ugly truth.
Jesus. Nancy needs a distraction. Luckily for her, a perfect one is available in abundance in the form of Mike Wheeler, who at this moment is bouncing towards her, fueled by cheap beer and trailed by El and Max. (It registers suddenly that six people had to squish into Dustin's mom's tiny old car to drive here. She doesn't even want to know how they did that.)
"Nance!" Mike's hair is still as grown-out and shaggy as it was at fifteen, but something about his face is older and more mature and it manages to take Nancy by surprise no matter how many times she looks at him. Her little brother, all grown up. "Have you seen Eddie anywhere?"
"No. I think he's in the kitchen with Dustin." Nancy narrows her eyes at him. "He won't give you weed, if that's what you're looking for, I already told him-"
"No, I just wanna find him, I haven't seen him all night."
Mike is a lot of things, but a decent liar isn’t one of them. Nancy raises an eyebrow, disbelieving.
"He wants to palm a joint off him," Max interjects, rolling her eyes.
Mike shoots her an affronted glare, betrayed. "What the fuck, dude, why would you tell her that?"
She shrugs. "Because you on drugs is probably ten times more annoying than you normally and I don't feel like dealing with it."
"You're such an asshole."
"And you're a shitty liar!"
"Oh, fuck you-"
"Guys," El thankfully interrupts before they can get too invested in their argument. "Please shut up."
"Eddie won't give you any drugs, Mike. Sorry." Nancy declares with an air of finality. It occurs to her that Jonathan probably would, and now she's a little relieved that he couldn't get out of work in New York to come down. The last thing she needs tonight is a bunch of eighteen-year-olds who’ve never smoked before getting stoned in her apartment.
"It's not like I'm asking him for, like, hard drugs, it's just pot-"
"Mike."
He scowls, defeated and annoyed. "I'm gonna find Steve, he'll probably-"
Nancy's heart drops. Oh, how she was hoping to avoid this. "Steve's not coming."
"What? Why?"
The truth is, Nancy isn't fully sure if Steve is coming or not, but she's willing to bet that he won't. Being Robin's best friend pretty much ensures it, in fact, and while the twinge of her friend's absence is prominent, it doesn't compare to the huge fucking ache created by Robin not being here.
Something in her face must give away her discomfort because Mike's brow furrows in concern and Max opens her mouth, but before she can speak, a loud, familiar voice booms from somewhere to their right.
"Wheelers!" Eddie slings an arm around Nancy's shoulders with a grin, Dustin on his heels. "Oh, and Mayfield and Hopper, my apologies. How are we all tonight?"
A chorus of "goods" erupts as they swarm him, Steve's absence forgotten. Nancy breathes a sigh of relief.
"Eddie, can I have a hit?" Mike asks hopefully, eyeing the joint dangling between his fingers.
"Fuck no. This one’s basically gone, anyway." Eddie takes one last drag and grins down at Mike, who scowls back.
Nancy snorts, but she tunes out their chatter pretty quickly after that, glancing around the room at the people sprawled on her couch, sitting cross-legged on her floor, sifting through her vinyl. It's weird, she thinks, that most of these people are just classmates or casual acquaintances that she doesn't really speak to outside of a school context, yet here they are at her birthday party, invited because it seemed nice to do so at the time. It makes her feel incredibly lonely, the idea of celebrating with a bunch of near-strangers. But before she can dwell on that for too long, El's voice pulls her back into her friends' conversation with a jolt.
"Eddie, where is Steve?" Damnit. So much for forgetting.
"Oh." Eddie glances at Nancy, biting his lip at her panicked expression. "Um, he's with Robin tonight-"
"Wait, what?" Max interrupts, incredulous. "Robin's not here?" She swivels to stare at Nancy. "What the hell happened?"
Nancy frankly couldn't be less enthused about this conversation, and Eddie must be able to tell because he clears his throat in a futile attempt to distract everyone. "So has anyone seen Sinclair and Byers around?"
"Nancy," Max ignores him in favor of grabbing Nancy's hand. "Why isn't Robin here?"
"I-" Everyone is staring at her, expressions ranging from confused to concerned, and she can't fucking stand it, can't deal with their questions and sympathetic eyes right now. Nancy doesn't want to talk about any of it- the fact that she's possibly teetering on the edge of a breakup with the love of her life, or that she's spending her birthday heartbroken over it. "Sorry," she whispers, tugging her hand out of Max's grip and slipping out from under Eddie's arm. She pushes through the crowd, ignoring Mike's call of her name, and escapes into the quiet serenity of the bathroom.
Nancy flicks the light on and locks the door behind her, takes a deep breath, and immediately gags; the stale, sickly scent of vomit and beer and piss is overpowering. Curse her stupid classmates and their lack of common decency to flush the fucking toilet. She flushes it herself and sinks to the floor next to the sink, stretching her legs out in front of her and staring at her shoes. She's pretty sure she's wearing one of Robin's socks by accident, and it makes her stomach turn. God, this party is so much worse than she thought it would be. She closes her eyes and that night flashes through her mind, sudden and painful and gut-wrenching.
*****
"I just- I miss you! I wish you were around more, and I wish you didn't work all the time, okay? I wish you paid attention to something other than your job! Is that so awful?" Robin is shouting, voice hoarse and choked with emotion.
"Is it so awful that I like my job? That I spend time trying to do well and achieve something that I'm proud of? I'm sorry that it keeps me busy, but there's nothing I can do about that, Robin." Nancy shouts right back. Her hands are shaking and she can feel a headache coming on and she doesn't even know how they got here, how it escalated to this, screaming at each other in Robin's dorm room. She's painfully aware of how thin the walls are; she's sure the whole hallway can hear them. "I can't believe we're doing this right now," she mutters, pressing her hands to her eyes.
Robin's expression shifts from angry to incredulous. "Doing this- don't you care?" Her voice lowers; less upset, more distressed. "Nance, this is important! We need to talk about this."
"Of course I care, Robin, I just- don't you understand how important this job is to me? It's the Boston Globe, it's everything I've been working for my entire life. I can't just slack off like-" she cuts herself off. Shit.
"Like what? Like me, is that what you were going to say?" Robin's voice is rising again, just as quickly as it had dropped, furious and tear-filled. "Jesus, Nancy, just because I don't know exactly what I want to do with my life after graduation doesn't mean I'm not as good as you!"
"I never said that!" Nancy protests. "Rob-"
"Just because you prioritize work over everything else in your goddamn life doesn't mean everyone should," Robin continues, her face wet with tears, her voice shaking. "You're so fucking obsessed with your job, and for what? It's just a stupid fucking paper!"
It's like a punch straight in the gut. "It's not stupid," Nancy whispers. "Fuck you, Robin, it's not stupid. I'm sorry that the idea of having some part of your life figured out is so damn hard for you to comprehend. Don't get mad at me just because you don't have that."
The silence that follows is overwhelming. Nancy holds back a sob at the stricken look on Robin's face as she picks up her bag and wrenches the door open, wiping her face with her sleeve. She pretends she can't hear Robin crying as she shuts the door, and she pretends that she herself isn't weeping in the elevator all the way downstairs and on the drive home to her cold, lonely apartment.
*****
Nancy recalls all of it on the cold tile floor, tears dripping down her cheeks as she replays every awful word. She sighs and stares up at the ceiling. Nausea and guilt are making her head pound and she can hear her own stupid birthday party on the other side of the wall; U2 is blasting for some godforsaken reason, so apparently, Eddie isn't out there to oversee the music selection, which can only mean-
"Nance?" There's a tentative tap at the door.
She sighs and gets to her feet to let him in. "Hi."
Eddie grins at her, cigarette between his teeth. He holds up two red Solo cups and raises his eyebrows enticingly. "Hey, Wheeler. Want some company? I brought you alcohol because I think you kind of need it right now."
Nancy accepts a cup and steps back so that he can enter. "Thanks, Eddie." She locks the door again behind him and turns to see that he's chosen to make himself comfortable in the bathtub, sitting cross-legged. He gestures for her to join him, and she clambers in and slides down the wall opposite him, drawing her knees to her chest. Eddie shifts to mirror her, resting his forearms on his knees. The tips of their shoes touch and really, two fully-grown adults can't fit in her tiny bathtub comfortably, but Nancy can't fathom moving. They sit there. Eddie seems to understand that she can't talk about it, not yet, so he stays quiet and takes a drag of his cigarette. She appreciates his silent but supportive presence as she wipes her face and takes a deep breath in an attempt to calm her racing heart.
They sit in silence, Eddie smoking and Nancy staring at her hands. The vintage gold ring glints on her index finger, a gift from Robin, taunting and beautiful. Citrine at the center, her birthstone. Robin had given it to her when she turned twenty.
She takes a sip of her drink to stop looking at it and immediately gags. "Eddie, what the hell is this?"
"Whiskey, apple juice, Aperol, and a little bit of strawberry Tab." He squints at her through the haze between them.
Nancy stares back at him, utterly repulsed. "Strawberry Tab?"
"Yup." He pops the p, looking rather pleased at Nancy's disgust. "Someone had a can of it stashed in the fridge."
"Why would you ever make something like this?"
"I had to mix something super gross so that Dustin would leave me alone and stop asking to try my drink. I do not need that kid drinking anything other than beer. Hold on, I haven't actually tried it yet." Eddie takes a sip of his cup and immediately spits it out again, making a horrified face. "Jesus, that is rancid. I'm so sorry I served this to you, Wheeler."
Nancy chuckles. There's a pause, then Eddie speaks again, his tone careful.
"So. Kind of a shitty birthday, huh?"
"You could say that," Nancy sighs, leaning her head back against the wall. "It's just weird. I feel like I don't even know most of the people at my own party. And Mike being here isn't helping. It's great to see him, of course, but God, he and the kids stress me out even more when they're drinking."
"They're not really kids anymore, huh?" Eddie huffs out a laugh, shaking his head.
"No, I guess you're right." Though Nancy thinks she’ll always think of them as the kids in her mind. She sighs and rubs a hand across her face. "... Anyway. Nope, this is definitely not my greatest birthday. I mean… it's nothing like I thought it'd be." She thought she'd be celebrating with Robin, is what she doesn't say, but Eddie knows what she meant.
"Yeah, man, I get it."
They lapse into silence again, until Nancy breaks it.
"So Steve's probably pissed as hell at me, right?" It's meant to be lighthearted, but it comes out sadder than she intends, her voice cracking.
Eddie sets his cup down on the rim of the bathtub and gazes at her, his big brown eyes forlorn. She hates the pity in his voice as he answers. "No, Nance, of course not. You know he would've loved to be here tonight, but- I mean, you know."
And she does know, of course she does. It's Steve and Robin, after all. "Are they at your place?"
"Yeah, they were there when I left."
Nancy nods and tries not to think too hard about what they're doing- getting drunk, probably, and talking shit about her (deserved, to an extent). She takes a breath.
"Eddie?"
"Yeah?"
"How is she?" She'd stopped herself from asking about Robin when she saw Eddie earlier in the week, too scared and too upset, but she needs to know now, she thinks she'll lose her mind if she doesn't.
Eddie sighs. "I mean. She's not great. She's… she's sad, of course, and she won't talk about it, at least not with me. I mean, she talks to Steve, of course. The one thing she did say to me, though…" he trails off. Nancy's heart pounds faster.
"What did she say?"
"She keeps saying she doesn't know if you're going to break up or not."
That hits her like a freight train. "Oh."
"I think," he continues gently, meeting Nancy's eye, "that it's really fucking with her. How you guys left it so… uncertain."
"Well, I don't know if we're gonna break up or not, either." Nancy's voice breaks on the last word, and to her surprise, hot, embarrassing tears suddenly well in her eyes.
"Aw, Nance." Eddie reaches over to pull her into a hug as she starts to sob. It's a little awkward; they don't hug like this often, and Eddie's sort of leaning over their legs to reach her, but Nancy thinks it's nice. His jacket carries the faint but persistent scent of weed and the cinnamon gum he loves as she presses her face into his shoulder, and if someone had told fifteen-year-old Nancy Wheeler that in a few years she would cry over a girl in a bathtub with Eddie Munson on her birthday, she would probably be sent into a state of shock.
After a minute, Nancy pulls back to wipe her eyes. When she looks up again, Eddie is watching her carefully, his expression unreadable.
"Do you want to break up with Robin?" he asks, and it's quiet and sort of expected but it still makes Nancy's heart clench.
"No," she answers immediately, and it's true. She can't think of a worse outcome. The idea of a life without Robin in it is unthinkable. "I love her. I always will."
Eddie raises his eyebrows, but he's smiling a little like he didn't expect a different answer. "Then I think you gotta tell her that."
"But I don't know if she wants to break up with me," Nancy sniffs. The harsh words she had yelled come flooding back; so does the anger and the hurt in Robin's voice afterward. She wouldn't be surprised if Robin never wanted to speak to her again.
"I don't think she does," is all Eddie says in response.
"But she might."
Eddie rests a hand on her knee. "Trust me, Wheeler, the possibility of Robin dumping you feels pretty damn low to me. Everyone says a lot of stupid shit about people being destined for each other or whatever, but you guys honestly seem like you're meant to be. I think things will work out for you."
Nancy snorts, a wave of emotion towards him making her chest feel tight. "Wow, Eddie, I think that's the sweetest thing you've ever said to me."
"Yeah, don't get used to it." But he's grinning again.
Nancy lets her head fall back against the wall. She's so tired. Tired of this night, tired of the drunk strangers monopolizing her living room, tired of the uncertain limbo that she's in with Robin. "So what do I do?"
He raises an eyebrow at her, like what do you think? "Talk to her, Nance. Call her tonight, or something."
Nancy gnaws at her lip and thinks about it. Calling, at least, is less terrifying than actually speaking in person. "You're sure she's at your place?"
"Yup."
Well. She sucks in a breath, gets to her feet, steps out of the bathtub, and offers her hand out to Eddie, who accepts it with a grin. "We're going back out there?"
"Yeah, I guess we have to." Nancy thinks she'd rather fight off another cluster of demobats again. She exhales and unlocks the door, but pauses before opening it. She looks over her shoulder at Eddie, at a loss for what to say, and settles on, "Don't give Mike weed. I'll wring your neck."
He blinks, surprised, but holds up his hand solemnly. "Wasn't planning on it. No weed will be bestowed upon Baby Wheeler. Cross my heart."
The party rages on as Nancy dials Steve and Eddie's landline, heart pounding. Eddie has left her to search for the kids, so Nancy's huddled in the corner of her kitchen alone, phone pressed to her ear and back turned away from the ever-increasing number of guests infringing upon her home (seriously, at this point she only recognizes about a third of the people here at her own birthday party). As the phone rings, she taps her fingers on the counter nervously. What will she even say? I'm sorry. I miss you. Please come over, there are too many people and I feel like I'm suffocating without you here.
She's so lost in thought that Eddie's recorded voice on the answering machine takes her by surprise. She frowns and dials again; same thing. Either Steve isn't picking up on purpose, or no one is home. She looks up and meets Eddie's eye across the room where he's chatting with Max and Lucas and mouths no answer. He tilts his head, looking just as confused as she is. Nancy turns back to the phone to call one more time, ignoring the knock at the door as the phone rings again. She vaguely hears the door opening and someone shout, but she doesn't look up until Eddie goes, "Steve?"
She whirls around to see Steve Harrington standing in the doorway, laughing as Dustin jumps up to embrace him. She barely registers this, however, because Robin Buckley is standing just behind him, peering around the room and looking nervous as hell. Nancy's mouth falls open as Robin spots her and lifts a tentative hand in greeting. The phone slips from her grasp and dangles against the wall as Nancy steps forward, her heart racing.
Robin looks like she always does; short hair, blue eyes, and her favorite black denim jacket adorned with pins. Beautiful, Nancy thinks, because she always is. But something in her face is tired and sad as they gaze at each other, her hands shoved in her pockets. She stands awkwardly in the doorway, no longer obstructed by Steve, who's been tugged out of the way by an ecstatic Eddie. The agonizing silence that stretches between them is heavy and awkward.
Robin breaks first. "Hi."
"Hi," Nancy breathes. She's faintly aware of everyone suddenly watching them with relative interest; not just their close friends but a fair amount of the partygoers, too, though she hears Eddie shooing people away and saying something about privacy and the threat of a nail-studded bat in the back of Steve's car if they don't fuck off and mind their business. (She really loves him.)
"Um. Happy birthday," Robin offers, drawing Nancy back to her, and the uncertainty in the sentiment makes Nancy want to cry. It's just so weird, being uncomfortable with each other. Nancy has never felt so unsteady around her.
"Thank you." Her face is probably puffy from crying earlier and she looks disheveled and her makeup is smeared and fuck, Robin looks perfect and Nancy looks like shit. She can't take the pleasantries anymore, so she blurts out, "I just tried to call you."
Robin blinks. "What?"
"Eddie told me you were with Steve, so I-I called their place to talk to you, but no one answered. Obviously. Because everyone who lives there is here." God, she sounds like an idiot.
"You called to talk to me?" Robin sounds surprised, and a little relieved.
"Yeah."
"I mean, I want to talk to you, too. Obviously, because I'm… here. But, like, I was sitting there on Steve's floor tonight, staring at the wall, and all I could think about was you and your birthday and our- our fight, and I just- I needed to see you. I couldn't wait. So. Here I am. I hope that's okay." Robin rushes out in one breath.
"It's okay," Nancy says softly, and any residual anger that had been bubbling in her chest all week is dissipating rapidly as she stares at Robin. The guilt, the sorrow, and the anxiety, however, are all still prevailing.
"So… Can we? Talk, I mean?"
"Yes, just-" Nancy glances around the room. For the most part, everyone has gone back to their respective conversations except, of course, for Eddie and Steve, who, despite Eddie's previous insistence on their privacy, are observing them closely. Hypocrite. The rest of the kids have joined them and are watching their conversation unfold with great interest like it's some kind of spectator sport. Nancy is pretty sure that Dustin and Lucas and Will are even sharing a bag of popcorn that they unearthed from some corner of her kitchen. Jesus Christ. She sighs, shooting them all an exasperated look, and turns back to Robin.
"-We can't talk here. Want to go to my room?"
Robin nods, looking relieved. Nancy ushers her across the apartment and into her bedroom, but before closing the door, Nancy peers out and catches Eddie's eye. He sends her a smile and a thumbs up. It's gonna be okay, he mouths. She smiles back weakly, her stomach twisting, and finally shuts the door.
Robin is leaning against the wall, arms crossed as she gazes around Nancy's room. It's the same as it was the last time she was here, but she still seems engrossed in memorizing every detail. Nancy follows her gaze to her messy dresser- pens and jewelry and books are scattered across it, as well as a small collection of framed photographs. Nancy and Mike and Holly from the summer of '82, the three of them posed stiffly in their living room; 15-year-old Nancy and Barb beaming in a photo booth at the mall; a group shot of everyone taken sometime in the weeks after Vecna, arms around each other's shoulders in front of the Byers' home; and Nancy's favorite- her and Robin, taken by Max a few months ago at a party at Steve and Eddie's. In the photo, they're sprawled across the couch, legs intertwined, and Nancy is cupping Robin's face in her hands as they grin at each other, their noses inches apart. "You look mesmerized," is how Max had described it when she'd given it to her, and she does. Looking at it now makes Nancy's stomach hurt. She pulls her gaze away and looks up at Robin instead, though that doesn't do much for her discomfort.
Robin is already watching her and looking equally uncomfortable, shoving her hands into her pockets and standing up straighter when Nancy meets her eye. She clears her throat awkwardly. "I'm sorry that I'm crashing your birthday party."
"It's alright, I promise. I wasn't really celebrating, anyway," Nancy replies dryly before she can think about what she's saying.
"Oh. Why not?"
Nancy huffs a laugh. "Why do you think?" It comes out sharper and more accusatory than she means it to, and Robin recoils a little, breaking eye contact and staring down at the floor instead.
"I'm sorry, I can just go-"
"Shit, no, Robin, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that," Nancy rushes to explain, guilt spreading thick and heavy in her chest at the look on Robin's face. "Please don't go. I'm just- it's been a hard few days, is all I meant."
Robin still doesn't look up. Nancy doesn't blame her. She curses herself for her stupid, careless choice of words and sits down on the edge of her bed, defeated and exhausted. She closes her eyes and doesn't open them until she feels the mattress dip; Robin is now sitting across from her, cross-legged on the duvet.
"We really need to talk, Nance," is all she says, quiet and unflinching and heartbreaking.
"I know."
"Can I go first?"
At Nancy’s nod, Robin takes a deep breath. "I'm so sorry. I was such an asshole to you, and I didn't mean any of the stuff I said. Well, I meant some of it, like, I am worried about how much you work and I do wish I saw you more but the rest of it, that was all so shitty of me to say and I'm just- I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have lashed out at you like that," she rushes out, twisting one of her rings around her finger anxiously as she speaks.
"No, you're right about me and work," Nancy sighs. "I just… I get so obsessive and worried about the articles I'm writing and it gets hard for me to focus on anything else."
"I get it, Nance, I do. I just don't want you to overwork yourself. You get so stressed. And I called the paper stupid, which was fucked up. I'm really sorry. "
"But that isn't an excuse for me to be an asshole to you," Nancy retorts, moving closer. "I got so defensive and mean…" she shakes her head. "I was such a jerk, leaving like that after our fight. I handled it so badly, I was being immature and stupid. And all that stuff I said, about you slacking off- none of it is true. You're amazing, and you work so hard, and I was just so awful. I'm so sorry."
Robin's mouth twists into a sad smile. "I'm sorry, too. And I'm sorry I didn't call you after."
"I'm sorry I didn't call you."
"I just… I hate how we left things. It felt so unstable, and I wasn't sure if you wanted to, like, break up or something." Robin pauses and swallows. "I don't want to. Break up, I mean. Like, at all, ever. And I don't know where you stand, but-"
"Robin. I definitely don't want to break up." Their knees are touching now; Nancy is close enough to make out the tears brimming in Robin's blue eyes. "You're the fucking love of my life. I'm just so sorry I ever made you doubt that."
Robin pauses; she's crying now, but the smile on her face makes hope flare in Nancy's chest. She bites her lip, takes Nancy's hand in hers, and presses a kiss to her palm. "You're the love of my life, too, Nance. "
And Nancy is mesmerized.
When they kiss, it isn't electrifying or shocking or intense; it's familiar and it's intimate. It's every day of Nancy's life for the past three years, it's just like coming home. It's languid and sweet, fueled by apologies and forgiveness and a week's worth of unspoken words. Robin kisses reverently, like she can't quite believe her luck, and if this is what her mother meant by sin and defiance of God, Nancy thinks she would gladly rot in hell for a lifetime just to experience what Robin Buckley's mouth tastes like. (It's cherry Chapstick and bubblegum, by the way. Nancy's had it memorized since she was nineteen.)
They kiss until Nancy's lungs are burning and she's forced to pull back to breathe. Robin's hands have found their way to her waist, holding her steady like she always does. Nancy exhales and pushes a piece of Robin's hair back into place behind her ear and basks in the smile she gets in return.
"I missed you," she breathes, soft and vulnerable and pathetically in love.
Robin beams back. "I missed you, too."
"I'm sorry." Nancy can't seem to stop saying it.
"I thought we were finished with apologies," Robin responds lightly, running a finger up Nancy's arm.
"We never said that, so I'm still sorry."
"Well, I forgive you." Robin nudges her knee. "You say it too so that we can be done with it."
"You're so sappy. But I forgive you, too." Nancy leans in to kiss her again, more passionate and purposeful this time, and of course, this is the exact moment that Steve decides to poke his head in the door.
"Hi, just checking- oh God, sorry!" He slaps a hand over his eyes with a dramatic gasp.
"Jesus, don't you know how to knock?" Nancy snaps, but she can't be truly pissed off as Robin cackles into her neck.
"I'm sorry! You should be grateful that I was the one who came in and not Mike, he was the second choice. Everyone is, like, foaming at the mouth out there waiting for an update." Steve retorts. "Which reminds me. EDDIE!" he swivels to shout over his shoulder, "they're fine!"
"Thank Christ!" is the muffled reply, as well as a surge of drunken cheers from the kids. Nancy rolls her eyes.
"You all are so embarrassing," she grumbles. "We're fine, as you already figured out, so why the hell are you still in here?"
Steve shrugs, leaning against the doorframe and crossing his arms. "I dunno. Your party's kinda boring." He starts to swing the door closed at Nancy's glare, but pauses and points an accusing finger at them. "But hey, no funny business. There are children present, you know."
"Steve," Robin says, finally raising her head, "please get the fuck out."
"I'm going!" But he pokes his head in one last time, earning an eye roll from Robin, "Oh, and happy birthday, Nance!"
And then he's gone, the door clicking shut quietly, and it's just Robin and Nancy again, hands entangled on the bed in the soft yellow glow of Nancy's lamp. They look at each other for a moment before bursting into laughter, any sense of a romantic mood ruined by Steve's interruption. But Nancy is okay with that. She's content to fall back on the mattress and stare at the shadows on the ceiling and listen to Robin's voice, lilting and raspy and beautiful as she talks about some test she'd failed in the past week and the movie she'd watched with Steve and a million other little moments that Nancy had missed in the week they'd spent apart.
They lie there for at least half an hour until Robin manages to tug her to her feet and they trudge back out to rejoin the party and endure a solid five minutes of interrogation from a very intoxicated Mike (who, for some reason, is very invested in the state of their relationship. Nancy chalks it up to either brotherly protection or the sheer amount of alcohol in his system.) After another ten minutes of frankly atrocious chatter from the remaining guests in the living room, Eddie kicks them out by hoisting himself onto the table and shouting, "HEY! If your name is not Nancy, Robin, Steve, El, Mike, Lucas, Will, Dustin, or Max, please fucking evacuate! Now!" It clears everyone out except for one disoriented stoner from Nancy's world history class whose name happens to also be Steve, but even he leaves after a confused minute or two, and it's just the ten of them.
Barely an hour later, it's just the four oldest, because the kids have all passed out in their sleeping bags, sprawled on the couch and across the floor in the living room. Nancy is so not looking forward to their hangovers tomorrow. But for now, she sits cross-legged on the kitchen counter, Robin at her side and a glass of wine in her hand. They talk quietly; about Robin and Nancy's final year of school, about Jonathan, who had sent an order of cupcakes as an apology for not being there that was devoured almost immediately; about another reunion at Joyce and Hopper's before the holidays. They hang out like this all the time, but the atmosphere of tonight feels different; less casual and more meaningful, despite (or maybe partially because of) the snores from the living room.
Eventually, though, Steve and Eddie have to head home.
"Robin, you staying here?" Steve asks in a whisper as he shrugs on his jacket.
Robin sends Nancy a questioning look and Nancy squeezes her hand. "I'd love for you to stay," she offers.
Robin grins at her and looks back at Steve. "Yeah."
"Cool, I'll head home with Eddie and leave my keys with you. You can drive my car back tomorrow, sound good?" He hands them to her before wrapping her in a tight hug and smacking a loud kiss on her forehead, making her grin. Nancy watches them with a smile, only looking away when Eddie sidles up to her.
"Hey. You doing better?" His voice is low, both for the benefit of the sleeping kids and so that Robin and Steve don't overhear.
"Yeah." She pauses, searches for words, and lands on simplicity as the best route. "Um, and thank you, Eddie."
"For what?"
She shoots him a look. "You know. Tonight. Helping me out. I appreciate it."
He grins down at her. "Anytime, Wheeler. I'm always here for you, y'know? I love you, and all that."
"I love you, too," she whispers, failing to keep the emotion out of her voice. Eddie doesn't say anything else, just hugs her briefly before following Steve to the door and sliding an arm around his waist.
"Bye, guys," Robin whisper-shouts as Nancy joins her at the door to bid them goodbye, grabbing her hand. "Use protection!"
Steve flips her off over his shoulder and Eddie snorts as they walk down the hall and disappear into the elevator, Steve waving madly as the doors close as if they don't see each other practically every day. Nancy chuckles as she shuts the door for a final time, locking it before spinning to face Robin with a grin.
"Hi."
"Hi. Wanna go to bed?"
It's the best thing Robin has ever said to her. "Yes, please."
They get ready for bed side-by-side, brushing their teeth in the bathroom together and making eye contact in the mirror. Robin doesn't need to borrow Nancy's pajamas anymore (she's got an entire drawer in the dresser dedicated to the stuff she leaves here), but she insists on wearing one of Nancy's old tank tops to sleep. Nancy rolls her eyes but lets her steal it, laughing at the way it rides up her long torso.
They finally crawl into Nancy's tiny-ass single bed at half-past twelve, and it's a win in Nancy's book because she can't recall the last time she fell asleep before one o'clock (nightmares are a bitch, after all).
"Your birthday is over," Robin informs her, shifting so that she's lying on her side and facing Nancy. "You're officially twenty-two."
"Twenty-two feels old," Nancy huffs.
Robin grabs her hand, planting a kiss on her knuckles. "Oh, it's ancient, baby. You're, like, retirement-ready now."
"Shut up," Nancy giggles, drawing her hand back. "I am not."
"You are. But it's okay. I'll love you no matter what."
She says it teasingly, but the sentiment still manages to make Nancy's heart swell. She kisses her quickly before shifting closer and draping an arm over her waist, closing her eyes and tracing light patterns across her back. Robin rests her chin on the top of her head and lets out a sigh, her breath ghosting across Nancy's hair.
"You okay?"
"Yeah," Robin says, voice barely a whisper. "Just missed this."
Nancy opens her eyes and tilts her head up to look at her. The bright moonlight beaming through Nancy's sheer curtains casts an ethereal, melancholy glow across Robin's face. She presses a kiss to her warm collarbone.
"I did, too."
"I love you." From Robin, it sounds a little bit like a vow.
"I love you, too."
They stay like that, limbs intertwined, even as Robin drifts off, and Nancy knows it's only been a week since she last got to do this, but a week without Robin had felt like an agonizing lifetime and it's a relief to be held like this again. The heavy, dragging weight in Nancy's chest is gone, replaced by something comfortable and easy to bear, something that feels a whole lot like unconditional love.