Archive of Our Own

Nancy raps her knuckles lightly against the glass of the window as she watches the huddle of birds in the nest. She takes a moment to study the horizon where flashing lights illuminate the shadowy clouds, moments later accompanied by a distant roll of thunder.

Static cuts from the junk radio that sits haphazardly along the edge of her desk and Nancy flinches, the radio's feedback piercing. Fiddling with the knobs she turns down the volume until the hum of music no longer rings harshly in her ears, shifting the station to the local news and weather.

Finding the station is easy, has become an ingrained muscle memory as she only teeters back and forth between the one and the most tolerable music station she could find in college town.

Another display of flashing lights and she celebrates her win preemptively, the room further dimming. It comes in today , she thinks with a knowing grin, fingers sweeping deftly across her lashes and clearing away the sleep.

“Today's the day, huh?"

Nancy jumps at the sudden voice, hand to her chest as she spins towards the source. Robin's head peeks out from behind the door of the bathroom that connects their rooms, the upturned corner of her mouth covered in blue-white foam.

"Dammit, Buckley, you can't keep doing that, the whole…" Nancy motions vaguely between themselves, exasperation apparent in the movement. Somehow Robin smiles around the toothbrush. "It's not fair, this one-sided mind connect… thing ."

"D'as no’ 'ow id wo'ks 'nd– gib muh sec." Robin chokes out, free hand rushing to cup her chin as she tilts her head back. A raised pointer finger is the last thing Nancy sees before Robin disappears behind the door entirely, the sound of Robin spitting and the sink running sneaking through the gap.

Nancy rolls her eyes, the line of her mouth thinning as she tries to hide an endeared grin. She makes her way across her room, quick to comb her fingers through her hair. She knocks once before stepping inside but the door that leads to Robin’s room is shut, the bathroom empty. Nancy takes the opportunity to inspect herself in the mirror before going through her usual routine, not bothering to do too much since classes had already been canceled for the week.

She’s trying to tame the final loose strands of her hair when a loud thud comes from Robin's room, followed by low muttered curses one without superhuman hearing would miss. Nancy considers checking on her, gives up on the flyaways that are at constant war with the humidity and sets the hair clip just above the nap of her neck when Robin’s throat suddenly clears.

“No, it's okay, I’m fine! I’m fine, it’s just, this damn cat,” Robin mutters, followed by another succession of low ushered dammit's.

“Robin, seriously? Get out of my head!”

“Sorry, sorry!”

“No you’re not,” Nancy mutters quietly around a smile, leaning into the sink to collect water in her palm. There was never any real venom behind her words, but this other game she plays demands at least a response.

Like the weather, Nancy has this thing with Robin Buckley. A back and forth, one that Nancy still doesn’t entirely understand but one she enjoys, nonetheless. But like her thing with the weather, this thing with Robin involves a game.

Nancy isn't altogether opposed to the constant intrusion that comes with the mind thing. If she’s honest with herself she finds that she rather enjoys it, delights in the fact Robin has this bit of access to her, this connection.

But if she's honest with herself on this then she'd have to further investigate why she doesn't mind. Why the constant reminder that comes in Robin’s one-sided replies sends a familiar warmth through her. A sense of longing that has itself raveled so snuggly around her it nearly smothers her.

She doesn’t have to dig too deep to know the why. The path to truth is as shallow as the empty faux-graves Hopper and the Suits had dug up for their group back in Hawkins.

Except she isn’t ready to delve into it, not after Steve or Jonathan, especially not after Barb, not yet at least. Robin is too important. After everything, the thought of ruining anything between them, most importantly their friendship, would surely kill her the way the wolf-turned-werewolf bite was meant to do all those years ago.

Instead she hides it, buries it as deep as her heart allows and hopes it's deep enough to ignore and not be uncovered, especially not by the one who is privy to her thoughts and capable of uncovering said truth.

So, Nancy has this thing with the weather and Robin Buckley. Another game, one she's determined not to lose.

Even if she's the only one playing.

Another series of thuds this time accompanied by a disgruntled yowl. Nancy eventually hears the unmistakable click of Robin’s window being unlocked and opened, followed by the scattered footsteps of the stray Robin has been so determined to save.

Satisfied with her reflection Nancy starts to make her way back to her room, now actively making an attempt to be less attuned to all things Robin and her current spout of rambling apologizes. She chances a glance outside where the growing clouds cast a shadow over the adjacent buildings, thinks she sees a white-tipped tail disappear around a corner.

Nancy has tried to befriend the grey-white Manx but her attempts to do so have proved unsuccessful. She hasn’t been able to get closer than a few feet before he’s hissing at her, the fur along his spine and tail puffing up with each spitful warning. It doesn’t help when the werewolf part of her instinctually reacts, eyes flashing a defensive yellow, the bed of her nails going numb as her claws prepare to extract.

She hopes he finds somewhere safe to hide, especially today. The cat would rather brave an incoming storm than share a space that houses four other supernatural creatures and a human witch he barely tolerates. She tries not to think about him getting caught in the coming storm.

At the sound of Robin’s door opening her heart flutters in her chest. She tries vehemently to not think about that either.

"As I was trying to say." Robin sidesteps into the room, the hinges of the door whining as she shuts it with a fuzzy-socked heel. Nancy makes an attempt to not stare as Robin leans heavily against the door.

It was a valiant two second attempt, but an attempt nonetheless.

She can’t help but let her eyes wander when Robin gives her the opportunity. Robin tips her head and her hair falls forward, presenting the crown of her now nearly blonde head that has ever so slightly lightened from the constant Florida sun.

Robin's knees knock together as she sinks against the wall, seemingly trying to make herself small under Nancy’s attention. Nancy’s eyes slowly trail up Robin's exposed legs, still surprisingly pale after all these months, her gaze coming to a stop just before she reaches her face. She takes in the oversized shirt that nearly drowns her frame, one she safely assumes belongs to Argyle for its bright colors and assortment of oddly shaped leaves.

When Nancy’s gaze does finally reach the other girl’s face, she feels her own cheeks flame pink. She doesn't need to be able to read Robin's mind to know she's been made.

Instead of calling her out on it Robin’s smirk shifts, her nose scrunching and her hands coming up defensively in front of her chest. "We've been over this, the mind thing–"

There’s a hint of nerves behind her words. Why? 

"–that's not how it works, Nance. If–"

She didn’t notice, how did she– no, don’t. Stop, don’t think. Don’t think .

Robin's eyes narrow as her mouth snaps shut. Before she can start again Nancy cuts her (and herself) off with a dismissive wave and what she hopes is a reassuring smile, begs her voice to not come out as tightly as her chest feels. 

"I know, you don't have to say it." Nancy directs her attention towards her desk, eyes darting over the mess of her recent project that clutters the surface. "I think of you, I end up in your head, and it makes you think of me. 'If we're both thinking about each other hard enough, we meld ,' or whatever the hell you and Steve used to call it."

“Yes, exactly! Except… no, no, not really. Me and him, that's a little different.” Robin sucks air between her teeth and Nancy looks over her shoulder, watches Robin’s head tilt left and right in consideration. “It’s just a little bit different, we–”

"I know . You two have a back and forth, we don’t. Regardless, it doesn't mean I'm used to you having access to my thoughts."

Cheater she thinks, and this time tries to think it as loudly as she can. She spares a final glance over her shoulder if only to glare teasingly before focusing on opening the lockbox that conceals her gun. A strong gust slaps against her window, the quick flash of lightning making the double action revolver she holds in her hand shine.

A mock offended gasp followed by an incredulously low muttered "I don't cheat, " from behind just barely pulls Nancy's attention. Nancy tries to suppress a chuckle as nimble fingers run over the cold metal, trigger finger aligned with the barrel.

Thumbing the release, she flicks the cylinder out of the frame to inspect the circle of wooden bullets in the chamber. Blowing air through the exposed rear of the barrel, she picks away the splinters of wood that litter the opening.

They're still not as good as Argyle's. Dammit, how does he make them so perfect, I don't– Nancy bites her tongue, uses the sting to try to rein in her thoughts again as she continues to inspect the revolver and the bullets inside.

"Ever the sore loser, Wheeler," Robin sighs as she leans back against the door, still across the room.

"Shut up, no I'm not. Besides, this is different."

"Different how? You against the weather, you against Fred and the school paper–" Nancy winces with a silent rest in peace “–now you against Henry. Well, I guess it's now you against Argyle against Henry.”

"The difference is that this is actually important. If we're ever going to take down Henry and his hounds I need to get just as good, if not better at this. The wrong sigil or the wrong shape and weight of the bullet is life and death, and death is not an option. I need to get this right."

Robin whistles low. Nancy can picture the scrunch of her nose without having to look back. "Okay, yeah, you're right. That– it's different."

I'm always right, cheater, Nancy thinks with a smirk, knows not to speak or else expose her amusement.

"Except I don't cheat, so you're not actually always right. But, honestly, this weather game you've got going on… I don't know Nance, this one feels a little teeny-tiny bit like cheating. The weather man's been talking about this storm all week."

"No! I mean, yes, technically he has, but they're still not sure if it’s going to hit us as a tropical storm or a hurricane. I obviously don’t want it to be anything more than a storm, but my bet is hurricane.

"It's been light showers and tropical storm force winds all week, but today is the day. They’re going to announce it picked up over the Atlantic, you watch. Florida weather is already so unpredictable and–"

As if on queue the emergency alarm system blares through the speakers of her radio and Nancy nearly jumps out of her skin, making Robin cackle.

"Shut up. You know my hearing is different from yours," Nancy mutters around her own fit of giggles, lowering the volume as Frank's static voice cuts through. He announces fervently the list of counties that are under tropical storm advisories, including theirs, urging everyone to begin any last minute prep for the fast approaching storm if they haven't already.

"Tropical storm? What- I was so sure it was going to upgrade overnight. I mean, obviously I’m not saying I want a category five or anything, but not even a CAT one?” Nancy mutters with a pout, turning the volume down to a low buzz.

“I know it’s not the Once in a Lifetime Hurricane you were expecting, but a storm is coming in today. As your unofficial ref, I say you won today’s bet.”

“Yeah okay,” Nancy says with a self-deprecating roll of her eyes, the corners of her mouth slipping into a sheepish grin. It's dumb, I know.

"Nothing you do is dumb, Wheeler," Robin says quietly around a chuckle, her hands rising preemptively in apology. But, Nancy doesn't comment on it, can't bring herself to act peeved at the intrusion, instead allows herself a genuine smile.

Nancy’s amusement is only short lived. She redirects her attention towards the gun still in her hand, knocking the wooden bullets out of the extractor and onto her desk where she rolls one of the crudely carved bullets underneath her fingers, unimpressed by her own work.

Another crack of lightning illuminates the room, this time the accompanying crash of thunder following sooner than it had before. With a resigned sigh Nancy reaches out to change the station, today’s bet against the weather officially over.

Dreams starts sifting through the speakers and Nancy tenses, looks over in time to catch the look that masks Robin's face the moment the song registers. Her fingers are immediately back on the dial.

"It’s okay. You don't have to change it, it's fine," Robin says, voice soft.

Nancy hesitates. "Are you sure? I don’t mind changing it."

"No… I mean, yeah? Shit." Robin mutters. After a moment that feels like an eternity passes her eyes slip shut, a pained wince shadowing her features as Stevie Nick's floaty vocals carry their way around the room.

Nancy's fingers twitch, itching to reach out and turn the radio off all together. Instead she waits, barely flinching at the crack of thunder that seems to shake the entire complex. Robin exhales a shaky breath with another low muttered curse. Eventually she nods, opens her eyes as the instrumental breaks and her gaze immediately locks on Nancy.

Nancy watches as the harsh lines between her brows melt away with the slow guitar bridge, Nancy’s own heartbeat moving with the faster drum beat. Robin takes a shallow breath, steadier, and she clears her throat.

"Honestly, I’ve kinda missed this. It used to drive me absolutely bonkers trying to understand how two complete flower children like my parents could have ended up stranded in a town like Hawkins. I used to dream of life after seventeen, ya know... Bella Donna promised a life of adventure.

"But then I turned seventeen and our lives went to shit... What I’d give to come home and find my mom in the middle of our living room, stoned, dancing to Fleetwood Mac."

Robin sniffs quietly with a quick succession of teary blinks that makes Nancy’s own heart ache as she thinks of her own family back home. She wants to take the steps that will carry her across the room, wants to take Robin's hands in her own, help carry the pain that's all too familiar, to hold her.

She doesn't. She musters up what she hopes is an encouraging smile. Robin grins back, line of her mouth tight before she resigns herself to looking out the window. Nancy takes it with a quick swipe to her nose before she turns back to her desk.

They remain silent for a while.

Nancy goes over the carvings, jotting down notes for later. The only noise that fills the space is the music from the radio, her pen scratching along the paper, and the occasional clank as she snaps the barrel of the revolver in and out of the frame.

They remain content in the quiet as the chorus of thunder continues to crack in the distance.

After some time Nancy turns her head to prop her chin onto her own shoulder. In the safety of shadowed light, she allows herself to look.

Robin is looking out the window, watching the angry dark clouds continue to creep in across the sky. The coming storm casts shadows and light across her face. If Nancy focuses hard enough she can almost see the reflection of it in her eyes.

Heavy rain starts to fall and the room darkens even further, heat from the little bit of sun the day had to offer slowly dissipating. The wind howls and Nancy can only just hear the birds in their nest, their silent chirps nearly hidden behind the sound of the wind as the tree that houses their nest trembles.

"I'm not cheating, by the way."

Nancy speaks suddenly, her voice soft. Robin turns to look at her. When her brows pull together and her lips pout in question Nancy has to look away. She focuses on Robin's hands, her fingers interlocked and laid against her stomach. 

Nancy chokes on a swallow, attempts to hide it with a cough as she turns back to her desk. “Today, the storm. I'm using context clues, taking the hints nature has to offer. It’s Journalism 101. ‘Don’t just ask if it’s raining; go look .’

"You, though, hearing my thoughts with all your witchy magic? That's definitely cheating."

"Fair point,” Robin murmurs with a chuckle. "In my defense, Wheeler, if you don't want me to have access to your thoughts, have you considered…"

Nancy hums when Robin doesn't continue, half focused on cleaning up the mess of her desk. She shuffles note cards of the sigils she's been learning and stacks them neatly atop a book of supernatural studies.

She continues to skim the titles of cut out newspaper articles she's been using to track Henry and his pack as she waits. After no response she shoves them unceremoniously below the pile of neatly handwritten pages dotted with information she's picked up about the hybrids from Argyle.

She's inspecting the edge of her blade when she hums again. A nudge. The other part of her, the most demanding part, is still waiting, reverted to being completely attuned to all things Robin Buckley. She tampers the fluttering in her chest, or at least she tries to as she sets down the dagger and unearths a random article, tries to settle her nerves and focus on the words on the page.

The door creaks as Robin finally pulls herself away from it and Nancy’s stomach swoops as the energy shifts inside the room, mirroring to the torrent that plays outside.

She can hear the pop as Robin pulls on her fingers, the way she shakes her hand out. Robin spins the ring on her thumb as she makes her way across the room with a ghost of a smile on her lips, one Nancy knows is there without having to look back.

Another passing moment and Nancy clears her throat. Have I considered what? She thinks, doesn't trust her voice to not give her away.

"Have you, Nancy Wheeler, considered…" Robin's voice is low, scratchy, and it sends a shiver down Nancy's spine. The articles crinkle in her hands as she makes a desperate physical grab for control of her nerves.

The lights flicker and Nancy shudders. Nancy inhales deeply as Robin approaches from behind. She closes her eyes, sinks into the familiar scent and warmth that washes over.

"Have you considered not thinking about me?" Robin's voice is barely a whisper.

Nancy nods, perfect brows pulling together with a dazed shake of her head because- "Of course I have."

"So, why don't you?"

I can't.

"Why not?"

Because I'm pretty sure I’m in love with you.