Work Text:
Robin Buckley loved her girlfriend’s room. She loved the pink and white striped walls, how the white furniture accented the wallpaper, the green drapes that were drawn down the center to either side of the bed. She loved the floral-patterned comforter and the fleece throw blankets folded neatly at the foot of the bed. She loved all the things Nancy insisted were embarrassing yet hadn’t thrown away: the Tom Cruise poster on her wall, the diary under her pillow she hadn’t written in in years, cassette tapes from middle school. She loved the cute little things that showed Nancy’s softer side: the jewelry music box with a ballerina mid-pirouette, her childhood stuffed animal, a pile of cards from past birthdays and Christmases from her friends. She loved that the room had things that you would, well, not bring out of your bedroom: Nancy’s hairbrush and small, but slowly growing, nail polish collection. She loved her own belongings in Nancy’s room: her bomber jacket on Nancy’s desk chair, her spare set of pajamas she kept exclusively at Nancy’s house in her dresser drawer, the cassette tape with a mix of clashing sappy, love songs and rock songs she had made for Nancy for their 6 month anniversary.
She loved that the room smelled like Nancy. She loved that being allowed to be inside the room (which Nancy was usually adamant about keeping people out of), to be on the bed Nancy put so much energy into keeping made and tidy, to look at the collection of pictures that surrounded Nancy’s mirror, meant that Nancy trusted her. She loved that being Nancy’s girlfriend meant that she was the only person Nancy allowed in her room so much. Her girlfriend. Hers.
Robin Buckley loved spending the night in her girlfriend’s room. She loved changing into the set of pajamas she kept at Nancy’s house. She loved how, after getting in bed together, she and Nancy would face each other when the lights were off— even though they could barely see each other— and whisper before they fell asleep. She loved how Nancy let her be the little spoon sometimes, even though she the taller of the two.
So, this morning, when Robin woke up, languidly and calmly, to the warmth of being under Nancy’s covers with her girlfriend still fast asleep, she allowed herself a kiss, pressed to her girlfriend’s temple; savoring every second of the morning.
She wrapped her arms around Nancy, softly repositioning the pair of them until they were facing each other. With a hand placed reverently on her girlfriend’s chest, she held Nancy, focusing on the rise and fall of her chest (Robin often found it ironic how she could never focus on her own breathing as her shrink suggested, but found no difficulty focusing on Nancy’s) for what felt like hours and only a moment at the same time. She found a mystifying sort of tranquility watching Nancy’s small, but repetitive movements. The rise and fall of her chest while she slept, the bouncing of her leg underneath school desks, the way she would interlace her fingers and rub her hands together over and over again when she was anxious. It was like being in a trance. And she didn’t want to ever snap out of it.
Much to her misfortune, Robin was brought back to her situation in an instant when Nancy’s eyes fluttered open and her muscles tensed and then relaxed under her. Despite her, now late, longing to remain in hypnosis from just moments prior, she couldn’t stifle the smile that formed itself from her lips upon the wake of her girlfriend if she had tried.
“Good morning,” The greeting was so soft it would have been a whisper if not for the great adoration that had filled Robin’s body and mind and forced her to place a special excitement into the words.
Nancy nodded, responding with a groggy, “Mornin’” before pulling herself closer to her girlfriend and burying her face into the crook of Robin’s neck and closing her eyes to go back to sleep.
Robin laughed slightly, “Noo Nance, we’ve gotta get up. We’ll miss the movie.” The pair had planned to go see The Princess Bride in theaters later. A movie about a straight couple (like everything else), sure, but Robin was undeniably a film nerd, and thus, was very excited and Nancy, even if she wouldn’t admit it, always had had a soft spot for romance films.
“It’s too cold outside,” was Nancy’s response, hushed and small.
It wasn’t too cold. Both of them knew this. It was an August in Indiana, but they had spent their whole lives hitherto becoming all too familiar with the autumn chill that was inevitable every year in Hawkins.
Plus, upon bouts of reminiscing about the good times they had spent together, Nancy would always dote on memories of chilly days like this because Robin would always lend the girl her jacket. (Nancy loved the way the jacket was big on her; the way the sleeves went down too far and would only show her fingertips.) So, it wasn’t too cold. That wasn’t it. Nancy wasn’t talking about temperature.
No, the people of Hawkins were cold. The rumors about the two of them were bad enough. Speculations about what them spending so much time together could mean. Dirty glances from older people who suspected they might be the “forsaken homosexuals” in public. But if they did anything to confirm such suspicions in any way― if they did so much to hold hands, or― God forbid― kiss, in public, their social lives would be over. Long gone would be the days of only having to deal with the occasional side-eye from people at church and snarky comments at work. To be openly homosexual would be to throw any hope of a future career in a dumpster and to set any semblance of a social life, now or in the future, ablaze.
Not just strangers either, their families were cold. They were fortunate enough to not have been disowned entirely after being caught mid-makeout session and forced to come out to their families. Robin was in the better situation of the two, for sure. Her mom was always more of the “hippy” type; free love and all of that shit. So her parents really just never brought it up, which she figured was the most she could ask for. But Nancy’s parents, Robin realized with a shiver, were definitely too cold. They were definitely the stereotypical homophobic type, although they had began to come to terms with having a gay child after Nancy’s mom suspected Mike might not be straight (Two boys can only play so much DnD in the basement without it meaning something). But this hadn’t necessarily prepared them for a bisexual daughter. Nancy had dated boys in the past, Jonathan Byers and Steve Harrington. Now it was like her parents were waiting for her “gay” phase to be over so she could go back to being “normal” and dating boys.
And so, Robin understood. It was too cold. Far too cold to go outside without their cheeks and the tip of their noses turning red and the wind burning their faces. If their was a weatherman that reported on the political climate rather than the actual one there would be a red bar across the bottom of the screen reading “EXCESSIVE HOMOPHOBIA WARNING! STAY INDOORS!”
“Yeah… yeah it is cold isn’t it?”
Robin had apparently said the right thing (something she was always worried about when comforting people) because she felt Nancy’s body relax against her. Suddenly, the weight of Nancy having to deal with the cold outside if they went to see the movie made Robin’s chest feel heavy. She knew better than anyone what it felt like to have to deal with being seen as a freak. She had been a band geek and a nerd her whole life and being forced to keep her head down in high school to avoid being bullied never failed to ruin her fucking day.
And she felt it again, right now. She felt the pit in her stomach she always felt when she walked by Steven Harrington and the other popular kids in sophomore year. And she was sure it was the same feeling Nancy felt at this very moment.
“What if I made us some hot cocoa and we stayed inside today?” She continued. Anything to save Nancy from the same social purgatory she had endured for so many years.
Nancy recognized this― she was always good at recognizing emotions in that way― and smiled against Robin’s shoulder, “We could stay in our pajamas and watch The Apartment.”
Robin’s all-time favorite movie.
It was warm in the bedroom; cozy and comfortable. The heating unit wasn’t on and even though the blanket was thick, they both recognized that that wasn’t the heat they felt.
It was a warmth they felt all the time, even if they weren’t necessarily with each other. And with each small token of affection; every word of affirmation, small gift spontaneously bought for each other, every morning spent sleeping in together, warmed them.
Robin had spent a lot of her life feeling cold. Staring at Tammy Thompson in Miss Click’s class or the time in the mall’s bathroom when Steve confessed his feelings for her.
But she never felt cold with Nancy (God, her girlfriend was perfect). And she really hoped Nancy never felt cold around her.
“I’d really, really like that.”