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Female friendships were never really Nancy’s specialty. The only real friend she’d had before Robin was Barb, and that friendship had a mist of pubescent hormones and middle school drama clouding it. Robin was the first adult-ish friendship she’d ever had.
Nancy put that down as the reason why it felt so different to her friendship with Barb. Or she’d just come to appreciate the people she had in her life after all the tragedy she’d suffered over the years. That was probably why, when trying to study, she’d find her eyes fixated on Robin’s face, watching the freckled girl chew her lip anxiously as she struggled with algebra. It was probably the academic perfectionist in Nancy that wanted to take Robin’s hand, guide her to the correct answer, linger over her hand for a moment (to check she got the answer correct). And she wanted nothing more than to play with the rings on Robin’s fingers, because she just loved jewellery.
No other reason.
“Peanut butter?” Robin searched the kitchen cupboards, calling out into the living room.
“There isn’t any. Mike’s allergic to nuts.” Nancy called back, wondering why Robin would even want peanut butter after stating she was making a ham sandwich.
“I thought suburban moms were supposed to keep larders full of food. There’s nothing in your house!” Robin groaned, slamming another cupboard door. “Ham and cucumber will have to do.”
Nancy looked up from her book, watching Robin slice the cucumber in front of the kitchen window, the setting sun illuminating her already bright hair. Nancy always liked the colour of Robin’s hair, it reminded her of honey and teddy bears. It seemed to just naturally know what it was doing, flowing down to just above her shoulders in a loose wave. Nancy didn’t really get to grips with how to tame her hair until just over a year ago, she was a little jealous. But once Robin had twisted one of Nancy’s curls around her finger, stating she enjoyed how it felt, and somehow Nancy became jealous of herself. Whatever that meant.
“Shit.” Robin hissed, the knife slamming into the chopping board. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
“What happened?!” Nancy jumped up, rushing to Robin’s side to find the tip of Robin’s finger pouring blood. “Shit, okay. I need a towel or something.” Robin stared down at the blood, lightly swaying from side to side. Nancy waved her hand in front of Robin’s face. “Robin? Still with me?”
“Yeah, yeah, sorry. Uh… not good with blood.” Robin mumbled.
Nancy grabbed the kitchen towel that hung over the sink, rinsing it in warm water. “Just close your eyes, okay? I’ll tell you when you can look.” Nancy pressed the towel against Robin’s hand. Her hand was warm in Nancy’s, and Nancy wondered if the cold metal of Robin’s rings would leave indents in her skin. After about a minute she checked the cut. It was still bleeding, and looked pretty deep. It didn’t seem like the type of cut a band-aid could fix.
“Can I look yet?” Robin asked,
“Uh, not really. It’s kind of seeping through the towel. I think we need to go to the ER.” Nancy said, feeling Robin’s body tense up at the suggestion.
“I really don’t want stitches.” Robin’s voice shook. Nancy understood, Robin and needles didn’t mix.
“They might not! I cut my hand pretty deep when I was luring the Demogorgon, and they didn’t give me stitches.” Nancy tried to reassure her. She grabbed Robin’s jacket, draping it over Robin’s left arm. “Here, you can’t see it now.”
Robin opened her eyes, cautiously and one at a time. “You probably think I’m super dramatic, right?” she winced.
“No. Not at all.” Nancy said, leading her out the front door.
“You don’t care about blood.”
“I care about other stuff. We all have our thing.”
Robin shook her head, still embarrassed with herself. “I feel like I have a hundred ‘things’.”
The hospital’s waiting room was busy, and Robin wasn’t considered a priority. The room of pale or coughing people made Robin all the more anxious, but strangely put Nancy at ease a little. She didn’t care for empty hospitals.
“Shouldn’t they see me now? What if I have tetanus? Or sepsis.” Robin’s leg bounced up and down.
“You’re not dying, Robin. The knife was clean.” Nancy said. “And it takes longer to get infected than two hours.”
“What if they give me a tetanus shot just to be safe?”
“Then they’ll give you a shot, and it’ll be over in thirty seconds and tomorrow you’ll wake up not dying of tetanus and everything will be fine.” Nancy said. Robin didn’t seem any more at ease, so Nancy took Robin’s good hand into her own. “You’ll be fine.”
No shot was needed, but unfortunately stitches were. After annoying the doctor with a hundred different questions about a hundred different diseases Robin could possibly have, as soon as the needle was produced she fell eerily silent. The doctor assured her the finger would be numbed, but she still looked to Nancy for assurance.
“You got stitches after the bats, right?” Robin asked.
“You can feel it, but it’s really hard to tell what the needle is doing, or if it’s even in your skin yet. It’s just a light sting. Don’t look and you’ll be fine." Nancy confirmed. Robin sucked in a deep breath, her good hand still clutching Nancy’s, already squeezing hard enough that her hand begun to hurt. But if it took Robin’s mind off of the process then it was worth it.
“Is it in yet?” Robin asked.
“Do you want me to answer that?” Nancy replied, watching the doctor pull the thread through carefully. Robin’s breath warmed Nancy’s neck as she pushed her face further into Nancy’s shoulder, her hair gently tickling Nancy’s chin. It felt safe, and right. As if, despite everything, there was nowhere else Nancy wanted Robin to be than the crook of her neck.
She held back from stroking Robin’s hair, it was getting entirely too real. Like a Pandora’s Box of realisations was slowly opening up in Nancy’s head and she could do nothing but stand here and let them open. Wanting to spend the rest of your life holding someone in your arms didn’t sound very platonic. And to be honest, she didn’t want platonic. She wanted Robin. All of her, the funny, the scared, the sarcastic and the flawed parts of her. She wanted all of it and she wanted to be able to say that there was a part of Robin that only belonged to her. And more than anything, she wanted to give Robin all of herself, too.
“All done.” The doctor said, wrapping Robin’s finger in bandages. Robin pulled herself away from Nancy’s grasp, leaving Nancy feeling suddenly very cold.
The drive home was quiet, Robin processing the day she’d had, and Nancy processing everything else. By the time they’d gotten to the Buckley’s front doorstep, Robin had enough bravery to look at her now blood-less finger.
“I feel pathetic.” Robin stated. “All that for three stitches.”
“Hey, be nice to them. They’re your battle scars, right?” Nancy smiled.
“Well, compared to yours they’re extra pathetic.” Robin rolled her eyes, the typical self-deprecating humour emerging whenever Robin felt a little insecure.
“Hey, stop.” Nancy said. “You did something you were scared of. That’s a battle in itself. You should be proud. I’m proud.”
Before she could even think to stop herself, Nancy placed a kiss onto Robin’s cheek, standing on her tiptoes a little just to reach. She drew back to see Robin’s eyebrows raised, her eyes surprised. Nancy could feel her heartbeat, still undecided whether the kiss had been a good idea. But suddenly Robin’s face softened, and she was cupping Nancy’s cheek and kissing her for real. It felt like her first kiss, which was weird because it wasn’t. But it was the first kiss that ever really mattered.