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Nancy is, if nothing, incredibly perceptive.
It’s practically a necessity rather than an option, given everything. For one, an aspiring journalist must be keen enough to pick up on the smallest of details, every nook and cranny turned inside out for even a crumb of evidence or information. Plus, considering all these years spent battling literal monsters from another, darker dimension, if she’d been anything other than perceptive, Nancy had no doubt that she’d be dead by now. To be fair, it’s come with a lot of perks.
Like now.
Nancy’s currently sitting on top of one of Family Video’s counters, something that, rule-wise, is frowned upon, but when it’s just her and Steve like it is now, she’s free to break as many rules as she pleases. Mainly just the sitting-on-tables thing.
She’s waiting for Robin to pedal up to the front swinging door of the video store, for her afternoon to closing shift. Nancy had free time today, so she’d decided to swing by the diner and grab herself and the two others some burgers for lunch. It’s become somewhat of a weekly occurrence, the three of them mingling in the quiet hours of Family Video to enjoy a meal in each other’s company. Nancy comes over so frequently, in fact, that some customers have just automatically assumed she also worked there. She hasn’t corrected them, having hung around here enough to know where most, if not all of the movies were.
Nancy idly glances at her thin wrist watch, brows furrowing slightly at the time. Robin’s taking longer than usual, Nancy notes. That’s highly unusual for her, given how important schedules were to the blonde.
“Hey,” Nancy says, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled. “Has Robin been late for the afternoon shift before?”
Steve glances at her from the corner of his eye. He’s leaning against the counter across the way, chin resting on the palm of his hands as he watches the television play some action flick.
He shrugs as his other hand drums against the surface of the counter. “As much as she doesn’t like to admit it, yeah, a few times.”
Nancy hums in response, keen eyes narrowing as she looks at Steve’s face. Something about the way he’s pointedly avoiding her gaze and growing restless is catching her attention. Nancy doesn’t want to press the issue too far, but with the way the dots are connecting in her brain, it seems to her that he’s clearly hiding something, or at least not telling the whole story. It puts her out a bit, knowing she’s purposefully being left out of a conversation revolving around her girlfriend. Right as Nancy opens her mouth to further probe into the mystery, the small bell hung above the door jingles as someone walks in.
Nancy’s face morphs into a smile. Robin.
Her girlfriend is ducking past the door before it can come back and knock into her as she wrestles with her work vest, the sound of pins clacking combined with muttered grumbling heralding her typical entrance. Nancy braces herself to hop off her perch and greet Robin, but just as her arms begin to lift, she stops.
Something’s… off.
Again, Nancy’s focused gaze points out to her mind multiple oddities, minor as some of them were. An unusual amount of make-up dusting her cheeks, a new band-aid hugging her nose, and the uneven gait in her carefully measured strides. Nancy’s eyes narrow, but before she can continue to take in discrepancies, Steve’s voice calls out from her side, startling her.
“Jesus, finally you show up, Rob.” He complains, hands moving to unwrap the bagged styrofoam boxes of food. “If my burger is cold because of you, I’m gonna make you rewind the tapes in our returns for the rest of your shift manually.”
Nancy elbows him, but Robin just laughs good-naturedly as she joins them at the counters. “Easy there, Dingus. I was only like, ten minutes late, give or take. Your food’s fine.”
Robin reaches out to ruffle his hair, which immediately he ducks away from with a muffled swear, hands flying up to protect his precious hair. Nancy smiles at their antics, but can’t help but pick up on the minute wince that briefly flashes across Robin’s face as she stretches her arms out to mess with Steve. He combs his hair back into place using his fingers with a disgruntled huff, passing Robin her’s and Nancy’s food before she could follow up that attack. The blonde accepts both boxes with a lopsided smirk, passing Nancy’s to her with a dramatic bow. Again, she catches the grimace, but again, it flees just as quickly as it comes.
“My hero,” Nancy drawls playfully, popping open the to-go box, “thank you.”
“But of course.” Robin replies, eyes crinkling at the corners as she grins. “What kind of hero would I be if I let a beautiful damsel’s lunch succumb to a frigid fate?”
Nancy rolls her eyes, but her growing smile betrays her. “A poor one, but you’d still be my hero, nonetheless.”
Robin dips down to press a quick, smiling kiss to Nancy’s cheek as Steve pretends to gag behind them. The blonde, without looking away from Nancy, flips him the bird before also digging into her meal.
The three eat in a companionable silence, occasionally broken by the background murmur of the television. Nancy can’t help but return her gaze to Robin, questions still brewing relentlessly in her mind. As she watches Robin cheer after tossing a fry into Steve’s awaiting mouth, Nancy begins compiling her notes internally, piecing them together as meticulously as she would a passage for the Hawkins High paper.
Robin was unusually late to work, she was wearing heavy make-up and a band-aid, and was walking with a very subtle limp - one that Nancy speculated she was purposefully trying to mask. All of it, Nancy had seen before in her own reflection as she braced herself to go back to school like a normal student after nights spent fighting creatures hell-bent on tearing her in two.
Robin was hurt, and she was hiding it. Trying to, anyway.
Nancy once again refocused her eyes to Steve, trying to relay any kind of question to him with a look. He’s however adamant on looking around her, instead focusing solely on the movie playing quietly on the television as he polishes off the remainder of his fries. Nancy frowns, taking a sip from her drink as she contemplates how she could get him alone for a brief interrogation. Robin, having also finished her meal - her and Steve would compete over the littlest of things, including who could eat their lunch the quickest - takes this moment to stand in between Nancy’s legs as they dangled off the counter, bracketing her with her arms as she leans forward, eyes twinkling with mischief.
“Nance.”
“...Robin.”
The blonde smiles coyly as she leans forward, taking the half-hearted warning in stride. She leans in to capture Nancy’s lips with her own, but the shorter girl leans further back in response, putting one hand against Robin’s mouth as her nose crinkles a bit. The puppy eyes she receives in return for the rejection are almost enough to sway Nancy to just let Robin get what she wants.
Almost.
“No,” Nancy says, even as she smiles at the dramatic pout looking back at her, “you just ate a burger with extra pickles. No kissing until I know I won’t taste it.”
Robin raises a brow with a silent challenge, and before Nancy can react, she feels Robin’s tongue dart out to lick the palm pressed against her mouth. Nancy jumps and yanks her hand back with a groan as Robin laughs. Nancy retaliates by wiping her palm against Robin’s shoulder, but she doesn’t seem too bothered by it.
“I thought we could overcome the odds.” Robin says, holding a hand to her chest in faux hurt. “But alas, it seems that love can be triumphed by differing pallets. Frankly, I’m devastated, Nance. Heartbroken, even.”
Nancy quirks a brow. Robin shrugs.
“Okay, fine, if we’re playing that game, then I don’t want a kiss from you until you get that wretched taste of mustard out of your-”
Robin’s cut off swiftly as Nancy leans in and kisses her softly, long enough to leave Robin breathless but brief enough that Steve won’t give them grief for it. Nancy reclines back on her perch, looking extremely smug at the bewildered, flushed expression painting Robin’s face a brilliant hue of scarlet.
“You were saying?”
Robin blinks once, twice, then snaps out of her love-struck stupor.
“I was saying, my lovely little trickster, that I’m so happy you're here and will accept as many kisses as you want to give me.” Robin grins. “Every last mustardy one of them.”
Nancy reaches out to wind her fingers around Robin’s tie of the day - a deep navy blue with patterns of tiny, baby blue fish. She grips it loosely and pulls on it, bringing Robin in closer to her, close enough to count the many freckles spattered across her sun-kissed cheeks. Close enough to kiss each and every last one of them. Robin’s lips curl into a knowing grin, and as she leans even further into Nancy’s space, her eyes briefly dart away to something just to the right of Nancy’s face. Immediately, Robin stands up straight, face contorting into a scowl.
“Ugh, really Steve? Fast Times again?”
Nancy sighs and lets her head drop down onto Robin’s shoulder. She knows they’re bound to spill over into another, familiar pointless debate, and that the moment has fled from her faster than Mike when it’s time to study.
Steve sputters, and Nancy can picture the look of betrayal on his face. “Hey! What’s wrong with Fast Times? I don’t talk trash about your picks for movie nights!”
“My picks are an intellectual journey that seek to expand the viewers’ knowledge of themself and the world around them in a deep, meaningful way.” Robin replies, shifting her weight to accommodate Nancy. “Your’s are full of tits.”
Nancy chokes around an unexpected laugh as Steve makes a wounded noise.
“I thought you liked boobies!”
“Ew, ew, don’t say boobies, Dingus!”
As they dissolve into another petty squabble, Nancy turns her head in the loose embrace to look up at Robin’s handsome profile, watches her bangs flutter with her movements and how her nose scrunches as Steve once again mentions boobies. Her gaze narrows in on the band-aid wrapped around the curve of Robin’s nose and the extra make-up dusting her cheeks. This close, Nancy can make out the subtle, masked hues of splotchy blues and greens hidden on Robin’s cheek. Nancy’s brows furrow sharply at that, heart briefly dipping into her stomach. Surely if Robin is in pain, she’d tell Nancy, right? Or maybe she’s overthinking and Robin had just walked into a pole again - which sounds like a lame excuse for anyone else, but with her uncoordinated mess of a girlfriend it was a legitimate concern.
Nancy closes her eyes and exhales slowly.
She’s going to get to the bottom of this, and the investigation unofficially begins when Robin excuses herself to fetch something from the employee break room. Nancy watches her go, still walking in that odd, ambling gait, and waits until the door clicks shut behind her to turn and face Steve, only to find him already looking at her.
“Steve-”
“Look, Nance,” He says, interrupting her before she can get going, “I don’t know what you want me to say. I know as much as you do about… whatever this is.”
“So you’re just not doing anything about it?” Nancy asks, voice attempting to be level even as anger bleeds into her tone.
Steve scrubs a hand down his face tiredly with a grunt. “I’ve tried. She shuts me out each and every time, saying not to worry about it. Says it’s nothing I should be concerned about.”
Nancy looks down at her hands, remorseful about raising her voice at the open distress painted across the lines of his face. Her fingers steeple together as she sighs.
“I’m sorry, Steve.” She says quietly. “I shouldn’t have implied you weren’t trying to help.”
He glances at her, expression unreadable for a moment, before a small smile pulls at his lips.
“It’s alright, I know you didn’t mean it. It just shows how much you care for Rob.” Steve replies, patting her shoulder amicably.
Steve ducks down to retrieve something from under the counter. “Frankly, I’d be a little offended on her behalf if you weren’t upset.”
“You don’t think…” Nancy hesitates, taking her lip in between her teeth nervously. “You don’t think it’s her parents, right?”
Steve shoots up to his feet at that, a piece of paper clasped in his hands crumpling under his surprise as his head narrowly misses getting bashed against the underbelly of the counter. Nancy jumps a bit herself at his reaction.
“No, no way it’s them.” Steve says, eyes narrowed. “They’re bad, but not that bad.”
Nancy knows. She’s comforted Robin when she vented to her about coming home to empty rooms and no food, about being constantly left behind in “family” trips, about them only ever caring about Robin when it came down to what she was wearing or who she was hanging out with, since that could impact the Buckley image. They’re absent parents on good days, and neglectful ones on bad days, but Nancy couldn’t ever imagine any of them ever being downright physically abusive to their daughter, lest their reputation be besmirched.
Nancy glowers. To say she is not a fan of the Buckley parents would be a major understatement.
“If it’s not them, then what do you think it could be?” Nancy asks, partially to gain some insight, and partially to change the subject. She can see the way both of their faces have darkened slightly at the topic of Robin’s parents, and she doesn’t want her girlfriend to come back to a tense mood, knowing it would just make her anxious.
Steve sighs, shoulders drooping from their previously tensed position. “Dunno. She won’t tell me anything about it. I have no clue.”
He suddenly straightens up, eyes bright with something as he lays out the piece of paper he’d been clutching onto for the past few minutes. He smooths out the crinkles from his earlier tight grip before passing it off to Nancy, who accepts it hesitantly. Skimming the sheet, it quickly becomes clear what exactly it is.
“Steve, what-”
“Robin usually bikes home today.” Steve says, in lieu of waiting for Nancy's question. “Here’s her times for clocking out, so you know exactly when to come tonight, instead of letting her ride home by herself.”
Nancy glances back down at the thin piece of paper held between her hands. Tonight Robin worked late - until eight at night.
“Isn’t it frowned upon to hand out employee hours to non-employees?” Nancy asks, voice tinged with humor even as she pockets the slip.
Steve shrugs. “Eh, might be illegal, might not. Depends on if I get caught. But who cares, maybe it’ll help you figure this shit out. If anything, at least she’s not alone tonight.”
“Well then,” she responds, hopping off of her perch atop the counter, “I’ll do my best not to get you caught.”
As Steve shakes his head with a chuckle, Robin re-emerges from the break room, holding a water bottle above her head victoriously. She pops the caps and takes a long drink from it, and Nancy can’t really help but stare at the exposed, freckled skin as her throat bobs around a swallow. Robin sets it down with a satisfied sigh, turning to smile wolfishly at Nancy, knowing exactly what she was staring so hard at.
“Easy, tiger.” Robin rasps, leaning down to kiss the crown of Nancy’s head. “You’re headed out now, yeah?”
Nancy nods. “Yeah, lunch break is just about over for me.”
“Cool, cool, thanks for the grub, Nance.” Robin pauses, letting Nancy bring her in for a quick kiss. “See you tomorrow, right?”
Nancy swallows, mouth suddenly dry at the coy grin. She nearly corrects Robin’s latter statement in her stupor, but she catches herself just in time, covering it with a subtle clearing of her throat.
“Tomorrow,” She affirms, feeling a tad bit guilty for lying.
Robin walks her out to her car, holding the door open for Nancy as they walk through it, gentlemanly as always. She bids Nancy farewell before disappearing back into the store, leaving Nancy alone in her car as it idles where it’s parked, engine rumbling like a kitten’s purr. Nancy grabs the steering wheel in a white-knuckled grip.
Eight o’clock. Just a few hours.
Nancy sighs and reverses out of the parking lot, making her way back to the Post, already plotting out the rest of her day.
She’s going to figure this out, one way or another.
…
As usual, the Thursday night shift is, to put it bluntly, lifeless.
Robin groans and lets her forehead thunk onto the counter, nearly disrupting the towering stack of tapes she’d organized around two hours ago, drowning in her boredom as she was. It’s admittedly very impressive, with twelve tapes standing proudly atop the counter alongside packs of candy and mints. Her leg bounces where it's curled against the front of the narrow stool she sits on. The cool, smooth countertop feels nice against her forehead.
If there was at least one customer, Robin could at least pretend she’s busy, but alas, not a soul is to be seen. It’d just feel weird to mimic working with no one inside. That’s not to say she usually faked her chores - unlike a certain someone with luscious hair and enough gel to drown a horse - but she’s already done all she can possibly do without any customer to attend to, so here she sits, glaring at the clock as it ticks down her final ten minutes.
God, this is such a drag.
Robin takes to spending her final ten minutes furiously scribbling on her new pair of white converse. They’d been a gift from Nancy, who’d seen her constantly adding new additions to her typical red pair. She’d noticed how Robin was quickly running out of room, so she’d gone out of her way to hunt down a pair of pure white ones, giving them to Robin on their next date night. So you don't have to slow down making your art, Nancy’d said, face soft. If Robin had teared up at the gesture, Nancy didn’t say anything.
So what if she was a sap at heart? Sue her.
When the clock finally reads eight, Robin practically throws herself over the counter to make it to the break room. She gathers her things quickly, stuffing her keys and wallet back into her bag hastily. She rushes out of the back and makes for the door, but in her haste her shoulder knocks into the leaning tower of horror movies. The poor defenseless tapes are sent hurtling to the ground, clattering noisily against the thinly carpeted floor. Robin groans, one hand clutching the door handle tightly as she strongly considers just leaving the mess for Keith. Unfortunately, her need to please people wins, and she stalks back around with a scowl to fix her mess.
“You’re lucky you’re a classic, or you’d be in the trash.” She growls, glaring down at the movie in her hands.
The tape for Alien wisely doesn’t respond.
Robin quickly finishes returning the tapes to their rightful places before barreling through the door, sighing in relief at the welcome cool night air settling against her skin. She makes sure to lock up behind her before strolling down the sidewalk to the bike rack, where it stood nestled at the end of the tiny shopping complex. She reaches the rack soon enough, but just as she frees her bike from its lock, a dreadfully familiar voice speaks up from behind her.
“Well, well, look what the cat dragged in.”
Robin grips her bike’s handlebars tightly, eyes screwing shut as her whole body tenses.
Fucking Richard.
Richard, or Richie, as some called him, was one of many among the Hawkins High popular jock clique, up among the ranks with Jason Carver himself. He’s been a bully for a while now, but his fascination with tormenting Robin specifically is a recent development. They’d managed to not cross paths throughout most of high school, but one Friday night as he strolled in to pick a late night flick he’d locked eyes with her, and apparently decided then and there that his sole goal in life was to make Robin’s life miserable.
Comparatively speaking, he’s nothing more than a thorn in her side. Richie couldn’t hold a candle to demogorgons and mad wizards, or even secret Russians lurking in the mall’s shadows. Although, this particular thorn had a habit of being a physical menace in a way she couldn’t brag about. Who went around showing off wimpy bruises like badges of honor? Read: no one.
Hands grab her shoulders suddenly, and she’s forcibly spun around to look into his sneering face. At his side is Donald, who is everything Richie is not: good with his words.
“Robin, been a while, huh?” Richie says, hands still gripping her shoulders.
Robin bristles, hands clenching at her sides. “Fuck off, Richard.”
Richie steps back, hands held defensively in front of him as he hisses in mock pain. Donald chuckles behind him, looking for all the world like every cliche henchmen combined into one person.
“C’mon Buck, no need to be nasty.” Richie replies. “We both know how important it is to watch what we call others, don’t we?”
“Oh, silly me, must’ve slipped my mind.” Robin retorts, face curling into a slight snarl. She can feel herself growing tense at the conversation’s direction, but she curbs her desire to go on the defensive right away. “We saw each other yesterday after school, you call that a long time?”
Richie steps forward then, crowding into Robin’s space, and inadvertently making her step back until her back is pressed against the rough brick wall behind her - she’s properly boxed in now.
“You tryin’ to imply something there, Buck?” He growls, forced pleasant facade dropping in the face of a possible insult.
Robin shrugs, feeling that familiar surge of boldness brew in her veins like venom, clouding her judgment a bit. “If I was, it’s not like you’d know.”
His hands snap out, latching onto the collar of her work vest before yanking her closer to him. This up close and personal with him, Robin can smell the bitter tang of cheap beer on his breath.
“Careful there,” He says, voice low and dangerous, “wouldn’t want to start something you can’t finish.”
Robin smirks defiantly. “Like you’d know anything about finishing.”
She’s rewarded for her snarky comeback with a fist to her gut, which makes her hunch in on herself - well, as much as she can, caught in the unrelenting grip of Richard’s hands.
“Only a dyke like you would go there, fucking pervert.” Richie snarls, face blooming red in his growing rage.
Robin’s not sure when or where he made the connection that she was a friend of Dorothy’s, but it’s quickly become his favorite way to bully Robin, tired as the insult was to her impassive ears. She mutters something under her breath, but Richie must catch it, because he hoists her back to a standing position, pinned against the unforgiving brick wall.
“What was that, freak?”
“I said,” Robin sneers, a wide, vicious grin showing off her teeth like a snarl, “Calling me a pervert is rich coming from the guy who’s nickname is Dick.”
Richard inhales sharply, relinquishing his hold to step back, before lunging forward to sock Robin across the cheek. Stars explode behind her eyes, the blow sending her reeling back into the wall as her legs shake. It’s followed up by a mean hook to her chin, splitting the skin there from the force. Oddly enough, the only coherent thought Robin can muster up is the fact that these fresh bruises will be a hell of a lot harder to cover up than the previous ones.
Richie watches in a fury as Robin slumps against the wall, sliding down as her legs crumple out from under her. His heavy boot slams once into her torso, kicking the wind clear out of her lungs. He backs away and begins pacing back and forth in front of her, like a lurking predator, eyes narrowed and glaring. Donald steps up to her, prodding her side with the toe of his shoe harshly.
“Think you got her good this time, Richie.” He adds ever so cleverly.
Richie pauses his agitated pacing, raking a hand through his sweaty hair. “You think so?” He moves to crouch in front of Robin, making sure he’s at eye-level with her.
“Is it true, Buck?” He taunts, laughing at her dazed eyes. “You finally had enough? No more one-liners?”
Robin’s not quite sure when she became a person who leaned into bold territory. In middle school she didn’t even have the courage to take her eyes off of her shoes. In high school, she played it safe and took up trumpet in band instead of something else that required her to be the limelight. Even with the Upside Down stuff, she preferred to play second fiddle to most of the others, well aware of the fact that they were much more experienced than her. She is a cautious person at best, and a coward at most.
Well, she used to be, anyway.
Somewhere between getting tortured by Russians and setting a transdimensional wizard on fire, Robin’s found she’s grown somewhat of a daring streak. Maybe it was long-term side effects from the drugs, or maybe she’d just finally lost it. Either way, Robin didn’t go lying down.
She sits up, glares into Richard’s ugly mug, and spits into his face.
He recoils in shock, wiping at his face with a disgusted glower. From his side, Donald gapes at the sight.
“Shit, dude!” He crows, both delighted and surprised. “She fucking spit on you!”
Richard shoves at him angrily before refocusing his burning gaze to Robin, who sits against the brick wall with a small, cocky grin. He lashes out, grabbing the collar of her shirt and hiking her back up to her full height, holding her at eye level with him, high enough that it leaves her feet dangling a bit.
“You’re gonna fucking regret that, Buck.” Richard growls, eyes dark as he pulls his fist back to deliver another punch. His arm tenses, and he swings-
“Hey!”
Bang!
All three of the teens practically leap out of their skins, startling at the concussive sound. Richard and Donald whip their heads around so fast Robin wonders how they don’t just go tumbling off of their shoulders, although that might be the concussion talking. She turns her head slowly, and her unfocused eyes fall on an achingly welcome sight.
Nancy Wheeler.
Not just that, it’s Nancy Wheeler with a goddamn gun.
“Holy shit!” Donald cries, immediately holding up his hands as he backs away from Richard and Robin. “Holy shit! Is - Is that a fucking revolver?!”
Richard glances between Nancy and Robin with wide, panicked eyes, not quite believing the sight before him. Robin’s head lolls back to face him, and a lopsided, shit-eating grin graces her lips.
“You’re fucked.” She says eloquently.
If looks could kill, Robin would have almost immediately dropped dead at the glare Richard shoots her. But at the same time, Robin’s pretty sure he’d be downright atomized under the force of Nancy’s terrifying glower. Her head tips back against the brick wall as she giggles at the internal image of that.
“Look, Wheeler,” Richard hisses, still clutching onto Robin, “this has nothing to do with you. Why don’t you just move along-”
“Shut up.” Nancy growls, hands white-knuckling her trusty firearm. “Don’t you fucking tell me what to do, asshole.”
She stalks closer, and it’s incredible to witness how such a small girl could hold such immense power in this space. Robin sees Donald stumble back, and feels Richard shift onto his back foot, instinctively readying to run away from the approaching threat. Robin turns to look at Nancy, and it’s almost laughable how much comfort she finds in gazing at the person who’s making two high school boys practically shit their pants.
Nancy points her gun to Richard, seeing no threat in Donald’s retreating form. “Listen to me very carefully, shitheel. You are going to let Robin go, and you are going to run back to your home without a fight, or you’ll find yourself suddenly missing something very dear to you. Am I clear?”
Richard bristles at the threat. “Or what, you’ll shoot us, Wheeler? Yeah, right-”
Another shot cracks into the still night air, and a newly placed burn mark sits right between Richard’s feet, still smoldering from the bullet striking against the pavement. Nancy pulls back the hammer again, letting the dull click echo through the silence.
“Am. I. Clear?” Nancy repeats, voice dipping as her threat looms heavy above Richard’s head like a noose.
For a moment, he just stands there, slack-jawed and wide-eyed at the proof that Nancy Wheeler could and would shoot him if he didn’t back down. This close, Robin can see the moment the fight bleeds out of him, replaced by a pure, unadulterated fear. Donald has already turned tail and run, apparently smarter than Robin initially gave him credit for. Seeing his ally flee seems to be the final straw for Richard, as he finally - wisely - releases his grip on Robin to back away slowly from Nancy. For every step he takes backward, Nancy takes one forward, effectively blocking him from attempting a return. Eventually he’s forced onto the street, and from there, Richard spins on his heel and takes off running, more than likely chasing down Donald for abandoning him.
With him out of sight, Robin sighs, slumping back against the wall. Nancy waits one, two, three seconds after he flees before she’s flicking on the gun’s safety and holstering it. Then, she’s almost immediately at Robin’s side, hands fluttering about her bruised face as she assesses the damage.
“Nice of you to drop by.” Robin says, wincing as it pulls at the cut on her chin.
Nancy makes a wounded sound in the back of her throat. “Oh my god, Robin-”
“Can we- can we save the inevitable chewing out I’m gonna get until we’re somewhere that's not here?” Robin pleads, eyes still glancing to where Richard had run off to. “Please, Nance?”
Robin watches as a flurry of emotions battle for control over Nancy’s features, before they eventually settle on a quiet determination. She nods her head and helps bring Robin over to her awaiting car, the driver’s door flung open and engine still rumbling. Clearly, Nancy had seen the fight as she pulled up, and had exited in a hurry. Her instinctive drive to protect her sends butterflies fluttering up Robin’s stomach.
Nancy helps her into the passenger seat, before hurrying over to slide into the driver’s seat, swiftly putting the car into drive, before peeling out of the lot at a speed probably higher than what was recommended for this street. Robin rests her head against the window as her eyes slide shut.
…
It takes all of Nancy’s focus to keep her hands affixed to the steering wheel and not give into the urge to lunge across the center console and fuss over Robin there and then. Instead, she takes a deep, steadying breath and keeps her eyes focused on the road ahead as she drives home. She’d briefly considered heading to Robin’s house, but had tossed the idea out, not knowing if it would hold the supplies she knew her own home had.
Robin is unusually quiet beside her, head resting against the thin pane of glass of the car’s window. None of her injuries seem too extreme, but that doesn’t do much for Nancy’s nerves, still rattled from seeing her, bloodied and bruised, pinned to a wall with no way out. She swears internally, cursing her timing. She’d been nabbed by her mother before she could leave, to help unload some groceries. It couldn’t have taken more than five minutes, but that was apparently more than enough time for Robin’s tormentors to catch up with her.
Nancy’s hands curl suffocatingly tight around the wheel. If it had been alive, she’d have strangled it to death by now.
She pulls up into their driveway, sending a whispered thanks to the forces that be that her parents and Holly were out for a school thing. Mike is also not at home, probably hanging with the rest of the Party at Steve’s or somewhere familiar.
Nancy jumps out of the car the moment she parks it, having neglected to actually put her seatbelt on. She makes her way around to the passenger door, making sure to open it slowly enough that Robin didn’t just go tumbling out of it by accident. She reaches inside and unbuckles her girlfriend before helping her out, mindful of the way she hunches reflexively over her torso, more than likely bearing bruises hidden by her baggy shirt. Nancy slings one of Robin’s arms over her shoulders and guides her to the front door, kicking open the door she’d left purposefully unlocked.
They amble inside, Nancy forgoing flicking on the lights in favor of beelining it upstairs to the bathroom she knows holds some medical supplies she’d stashed there. Nancy sets Robin down on the toilet seat, taking a moment to brush her ruffled bangs out of her eyes with a featherlight touch. She steps out to quickly slip into her bedroom to retrieve some looser, sleep-worthy clothing for the two of them before returning, finding Robin exactly where she left, and as quiet as she’d been the entire time. Nancy’s expression softens at the sight of somber, downcast blue eyes as they look pointedly at her scuffed white converse.
She crouches down to rifle through the cabinets, gathering some bandages, antiseptic wipes, and a soft towel. Gathering them to her chest, she stands back up, kicking shut the doors, before dumping her supplies onto the thankfully barren bathroom counter. She pops open the bandage box and pulls a few out, before taking the towel and running it under the sink as it pours warm water. Nancy waits until it’s damp enough, before flicking off the sink and moving to crouch in front of Robin.
Nancy leans forward and cups Robin’s jaw with one hand, gentle as ever.
“Hey, Ro.” She says softly. “I’ve got to clean up your pretty face now, okay? I’ll be careful, promise.”
Finally, Robin’s eyes slide up from the floor and land on Nancy’s gaze, and she swallows thickly. “‘Kay.”
Nancy hums, slipping forward to press a quick, soft kiss to Robin’s brow. She pulls away hesitantly, yearning to just throw the towel over her shoulder and pepper affection all over the freckled skin of Robin’s face, but she shakes her head and focuses back to the task at hand.
She brings the towel up to Robin’s chin, swiping so, so carefully over the split. She runs it over the old, dried blood, wiping away more and more with each soft pass. When that’s cleaned, Nancy moves to her cheek, dabbing at a small cut that looks to have come from a ring of some kind. It’s not as big as the previous gash, so it doesn’t take long to rub away the flecks of crimson. Once the cuts are cleaned to Nancy’s satisfaction, she sets the towel back down in the sink, swapping it for one of the alcohol wipes, ripping the packet open with her teeth. She pauses just before she moves to clean Robin’s wounds.
“This might sting, Birdie.” She says, voice still just above a whisper.
Robin makes a little noise in the back of her throat, shrugging her shoulders in acceptance. Nancy gives Robin’s hand a brief, comforting squeeze, before she dabs the wipe against her chin. Robin inhales sharply, but doesn’t jerk away from Nancy’s touch, instead she waits patiently for Nancy to disinfect her other cut without a word. When she’s finished, Nancy dumps the used wipe in the nearby bin, wiping off excess fluid on her worn jeans. She stands and scoops up the scattered band-aids before returning to her spot in between Robin’s legs. As she gently presses one to the gash marring her chin, Robin clears her throat.
“You didn’t have to promise, y’know.” She rasps, hands moving to toy with her rings.
Nancy’s brows furrow as she pauses, hands ready to place the second bandage. “Hm?”
“When you said you’d be careful.” Robin elaborates, eyes darting to look at Nancy. “I knew you’d be gentle with me. You always are.”
Nancy lets a soft smile curl onto her lips as she sets the band-aid in place. She pulls back, sitting on the balls of her feet as she gazes up at Robin’s shy face. She reaches out and takes her dancing hands into her own, running the pads of her thumbs over the subtle bumps of her knuckles back and forth, in a familiar, soothing pattern.
“I like saying it out loud, but I don’t think I need to promise to care for you.” Nancy says, eyes as soft as her tone. “You deserve to be loved.”
Robin’s eyes flick away as she chews on her lip, flushing under the achingly honest words of devotion, spilling like a prayer from Nancy’s holy lips. Nancy brings her right hand up and kisses each and every knuckle slowly, trying to convey all the emotions her words cannot. Robin watches, enraptured and silent, caught up in the unshakeable love she finds swimming in the depths of Nancy’s ocean blue eyes.
“You deserve the world, the stars, and everything beyond.” Nancy whispers, raising Robin’s left hand to repeat her loving touches. “I could spend life after life waxing poetry in your name. I’d give everything to you and then some, and it still would not hold a candle to how much I love you, Robin Buckley.”
Robin laughs softly, nothing more than a breathy exhale, even as her shining eyes grow wet at their corners.
“I don’t need any of that.” She replies, voice wavering and raw. A weak, trembling thing. “No amount of treasure could ever dream of competing with you, Nancy Wheeler.”
She ducks down slowly, leaning closer to Nancy until their noses brush against each other, close enough that Nancy can smell the welcoming scent of oak and cinnamon, close enough that she can count the freckles spattered across her face, like flecks of paint decorating the most beautiful of canvases, like a piece of art that even the most skilled of painters could only dream of creating.
She clutches to Nancy’s hands like an anchor, like Robin’s been tossed to the raging waters and her thin hands are the only thing keeping her from going under.
“You are all I need.” Robin whispers, words brushing against Nancy’s cheeks like a gentle caress, and then she leans in.
When they kiss, Nancy hears symphonies as orchestras reach their fever pitch, sees heavens as the stars above burn bright like halos, feels the rhythmic beat of a life so precious to hear dance beneath her fingertips.
When they kiss, everything is right.
…