Work Text:
Lesbian.
Lesbian.
I, Nancy Wheeler, am a Lesbian.
A woman who is attracted to women.
Nancy first came to this conclusion at a club, during her first week at Emerson.
It was a Friday night, and her new friend Rachel had dragged Nancy out, and Nancy wasn’t one to pass up the opportunity for, well, alcohol. The music was deafening, she didn’t know what she was drinking, and suddenly she locked eyes with a girl. She was tall, with hazel eyes and a strong jawline and lips that made Nancy’s mouth water. She wanted to sink her teeth into them, until they were bloody and bruised and slick with Nancy’s own saliva.
It wasn’t a feeling she’d ever felt before. With Steve and Jonathan, kissing and sex had always just felt like what she should be doing. The natural progression of the relationships.
But what Nancy felt in that club wasn’t that. It was primal. An overwhelming, animalistic hunger that made her palms sweaty and her heart race.
Nothing had happened that night. Nancy didn’t approach the girl. She wouldn’t have known what to do if she did. But her lips played on Nancy’s mind for the rest of the weekend. She knew what it meant, obviously, but she didn’t have a name for it.
“It’s called being a lesbian, Wheeler. Welcome to the club.” Robin had said, sprawled across their sofa like a discarded ragdoll.
After Vecna’s defeat, Robin and Nancy had both found themselves in Massachusetts in dire need of a roommate and no good reason for it not to be each other. It was a good arrangement, all things considered. Even if Nancy had to invest in earplugs when the novelty of hearing Robin’s name being moaned like a prayer by her girl of the week wore off (though she found earplugs were no remedy for the strange, ugly twist in her gut she could only reasonably diagnose as frustration for lack of sleep).
“Lesbian?” Nancy had replied, feeling the word on her tongue, “But I thought…I thought that meant you only…you know, did - things - with girls.”
“I mean, usually. But compulsory heterosexuality is a hell of a drug. Blame the patriarchy, not yourself.”
“So…am I still Lesbian? Even though I’ve…” She trailed off, chewing her bottom lip.
“Did Steve or Jonathan ever make you want to tear them limb from limb?” Robin asked, then after a beat clarified; “In a sexual way.”
Nancy had scoffed, “No. God, no.”
Robin shrugged, her eyes closing, a small smirk playing on her lips, “Seems like you’ve got your answer, Nance. Congratulations. Your certificate’ll be here by Thursday.”
That had been in September. Now, every day, Nancy repeated the mantra like swallowing a pill.
Lesbian.
I, Nancy Wheeler, am a Lesbian.
A woman who is attracted to women.
It was January now, and Nancy had gotten more comfortable with the label with each passing day. She wasn’t ‘out’ to anyone except Robin.
So when Shannon Munchausen, the girl from her ‘Laws and Ethics for Journalists’ class cornered her after class one day, she couldn’t help but feel like a deer in headlights.
Nancy had always been prideful of her expansive vocabulary. But when she looked at Shannon Munchausen, the only word that came to mind was hot. Shannon had shaggy brown hair, long fingers, and a smile that displayed her prominent canines like knives. Nancy found herself wondering what it would be like to feel them sink into the side of her neck.
“Earth to Nancy?” Shannon’s voice, like tires over gravel, had snapped Nancy back into reality. She blinked her thoughts away, suddenly feeling a heat rise from her stomach to her face. A self-deprecating smile formed on her lips as she shook her head.
“Sorry, I…zoned out. What were you saying?”
Shannon leaned back against the wall, arms folded over her chest. “I was saying that we should partner for that research project.”
“Really?”
“Really. You’re the smartest person in the class. Maybe some of it’ll…rub off on me.” Her voice had a daringly suggestive lilt that made Nancy weak in the knees.
“Okay, cool. Yeah. I’ll- I’ll give you my number.” Shannon’s smirk was fox-like, predatory, and gave Nancy a shiver up her spine that felt like a high she never wanted to come down from. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Nancy’s voice was soft, even to her own ears. Her self-deprecating smile turned into a grin, and she suddenly understood what people meant when they said schoolgirl crush. She was totally crushing on Shannon Munchausen.
When she told Robin later that evening, dropping her bag onto their kitchen table with a heavy thud, she assumed Robin would be proud of Nancy spreading her wings.
“No.” Robin didn't even look up from the cereal she was eating. Her voice was flat and final.
Nancy raised her eyebrows, her fingers hovering over her coat buttons. “No? What- what do you mean, no? It’s a research project, Robin.”
“I mean no. You’re not going near Shannon Munchausen, Nance. She is a no go zone. Munchausen non grata.” Robin finally looked up, pointing a milk-drenched spoon at Nancy for emphasis.
“You don’t even know her.”
“You think I don’t know Shannon Munchausen? Nancy, she’s, like Boston’s lesbian shedevil.”
“Shedevil. That is such bullshit, Robin.” Nancy rolled her eyes, moving to the cupboard to grab a glass.
“No, Nancy. It’s not bullshit. It’s- It’s real shit, okay?” Robin scrambled to sit up straight, her legs tangling in the knit blanket on the sofa. “She will eat you up and spit you out, and I know that sounds like a good time but trust me, it isn’t.”
Nancy paused, the glass halfway to the faucet. “...Were you guys a-”
“No! God, no. Me and Shannon together would be like- like, two pot lids and no pot.”
Nancy frowned, turning the water on.“ That doesn’t make any sense.”
“Two plugs and no socket.”
“What?”
“Oh my God, Nancy.” Robin groaned, throwing her head back. “ We're both tops.”
Nancy froze. she stared at the running water for a second too long before turning it off. “...Tops?”
Robin stopped mid-fidget, her eyes widening. “Don’t tell me you don’t know what a top is.”
“Of course I do.” Nancy lied, her voice coming out a pitch too high. She took a very deliberate sip of her water.
“No, no you don’t. You’re doing that thing.”
“What thing?”
“Where you pause and tilt your head before lying. I know you, Nance, you can’t lie to me.”
Nancy slammed the glass down on the counter, the frustration finally bubbling over. “Okay, so, maybe I don’t know what a top is, Robin! I only figured out I was - I liked girls, like, four months ago! And incase you didn’t realise, Journalism is a major that requires a lot of concentration, so I haven’t had the time to pick up my encyclopedia on gay sex!”
The silence that followed was heavy, but not mean. Robin's expression softened, the manic energy draining out of her.
“I’m sorry. Nance, look at me.” She waited until Nancy finally met her eyes. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t tease you. I know it’s all…new.”
Nancy leaned against the counter, her shoulders dropping. “What is a…”top”?”
“A person who likes to take the lead. In sex. They initiate most things, and focus more on giving pleasure, rather than receiving it.” Robin explained it with a surprising amount of calm, her hands uncharacteristically still in her lap. “It’s not always set in stone, whether you’re a top or a bottom - that’s receiving pleasure. You can switch. It’s just…whatever feels good.”
Nancy felt the heat climbing up her neck again. “And…how does that…happen?”
“Switching?”
“No, the- the…pleasure. How do girls…” Nancy cut herself off, shaking her head and looking at the floor. “God, this is stupid, nevermind. I’ll- I’ll pick up a book about it later, or a magazine, or-”
“No! No, Nancy, it’s fine” Robin hopped off the sofa, crossing the small kitchen in a few quick strides. I’m not gonna leave you to figure it all out on your own. I know how hard it is. This living room,” She gestured vaguely to their cramped, thrift-store-furnished space, “is a safe space for all of your lesbian sex questions.”
“Robin…”
“No, seriously. Think of me as… as your lesbian tutor.”
Nancy let out a dry, startled laugh, meeting Robin’s eyes again. “My what?”
“Your lesbian tutor. I can teach you how to be lesbian. Not that there’s a right or wrong way, obviously. That’s not what I meant. I just- I meant you can ask me things. About…you know. Girls. Sex. Stuff.”
“Really? You’d…you’d do that?” Nancy searched Robin's face, looking for the punchline, but found no trace of a joke.
“Yeah, Nance. Of course I would.” Robin smiled, but then her expression sharpened. “With only one condition.”
“Which is?”
“Nothing I tell you can ever be used on or with Shannon Munchausen.”
“Robin that’s-”
“Nancy. As your lesbian tutor, I can tell you that Shannon Munchausen is a complete player.” Robin's tone left no room for argument.
Nancy bristled, her competitive streak flaring up. “Well, it takes one to know one.”
“Okay, two things.” Robin held up two fingers. “One, I am not a player. I am an enjoyer of ladies, and ladies enjoy me, and they understand that there’s only one of me to go around. Sharing is caring.”
“And two?”
“Two, it’s, like, a right of passage for every lesbian’s first heartbreak to either be a straight girl or a player. You will be the anomaly, Nance. I will make sure of it. Scout’s honor.” She held up three fingers, crossing her thumb and pinkie in a dorky salute.
Nancy huffed a laugh and rolled her eyes. “That’s not your job, Robin.”
“Yes it is, because I just updated the job description.” Robin’s voice was softer now, more serious in a way that made Nancy still. “I’m now your lesbian tutor and protector.”
Nancy couldn't help the small smile that tugged at her lips. “So you’re, like, my mom?”
“Nancy, I wish your mom was a lesbian.”
“Ew, Robin! That’s gross!” Nancy swatted at her arm, the tension finally breaking.
“It’s true! You’re mom’s-”
“Not another word. Please, I seriously do not want you to finish that sentence.” Nancy held up a hand, laughing despite herself.
“Alright.” Robin chuckled, leaning back against the fridge.
“So…when do the…lesbian lessons start?”
Robin's eyes lit up with a mischievous glint. “Tomorrow evening. Nancy Wheeler, prepare to have your world rocked by Rockin’ Robin.”
“That’s…so corny.”
Robin smirked, and Nancy could’ve sworn her eyes flicked down to Nancy’s lips before meeting her eyes again. “Haven’t you ever wondered where I got the name from?”
“Oh my god.”
The next evening, the living room had been transformed. Robin had cleared the coffee table of its usual clutter and replaced them with a stack of magazines and a fresh legal pad.
"Sit, Padawan," Robin commanded, gesturing to the floor cushions with a flourish of a wooden spoon she was using as a pointer.
Nancy stood in the doorway, her arms crossed tightly over a pale pink sweater. "Padawan? Seriously, Robin? We’re using Star Wars metaphors for my sexual orientation?"
"It’s a classic tale of mentorship, Nancy! The master, the student, the mysterious force that draws us together, which in this case is women." Robin patted the cushion again. "Now sit. Your training begins."
Nancy sighed, the sound long and weary, but she sat. As she settled, her knee brushed against Robin’s thigh - a brief, accidental contact that sent a sharp, electric jolt straight to Nancy’s stomach. She pulled back immediately, smoothing her skirt with shaking hands. Robin didn't seem to notice, though her talking speed increased by about ten percent, if that was possible.
"Lesson one: The Spectrum," Robin announced, tapping the legal pad. "Lesbians aren’t a monolith - there’s no one way a lesbian should look. We don't just exist in one flavor. You have to know who you’re looking at, or you’ll spend your whole night flirting with a very friendly straight girl from Wellesley."
Nancy leaned in, her journalistic brain taking over despite the heat in her cheeks. "Okay. Go on."
"First, the Butches. The Mascs. The ones who make the flannel industry go round." Robin flipped a magazine page to an ad featuring a woman with short, slicked-back hair and a leather jacket. "Your Shannon Munchausens. Your mechanics.”
Nancy studied the image. It was so far removed from her ribbons, her pearls, and her meticulous hairspray. "And they... they're the ones who take the lead?"
"Usually, but not always. Don't get stuck on the boxes, Wheeler." Robin’s eyes danced. "Then, on the flip side, you have the Femmes. The 'Lipstick Lesbians.' They look like you, but with a secret."
"Like me?" Nancy asked, her voice dropping a register.
"Exactly like you." Robin’s gaze drifted over Nancy’s face, lingering just a second too long on the curve of her jaw before snapping back to the pad. "Think Molly Ringwald in The Breakfast Club. You don’t know until you know."
Nancy felt a strange, heady rush, her mouth feeling both dry and wet at the same time. "So- so how do you know?"
"The Look," Robin whispered conspiratorially, leaning in until Nancy could smell the faint scent of peppermint on her breath.
"The Look?" Nancy repeated.
"The Look," Robin confirmed. "Straight girls look at your outfit to see where you bought it. A lesbian looks at you like she’s trying to consume your soul. It’s intentional. It’s a second too long. It’s... it's like this."
Robin went still. She fixed her gaze on Nancy’s eyes. The air in the room suddenly felt vacuum-sealed, thick and impossible to breathe. Nancy felt her heart hammer against her ribs, a familiar, frantic, animalistic rhythm. She wanted to look away - her brain was screaming at her to break the tension - but she was Nancy Wheeler. she didn't back down from a challenge.
She stared back, her lips parting ever so slightly.
She noticed the freckles on Robin’s face she’d never seen before. She noticed the way Robin’s breathing had hitched, her lips slightly parted. Nancy’s guts stirred, but it wasn't frustration. It was a terrifying, magnetic pull toward the girl sitting two inches away from her.
"One... two... three..." Robin counted under her breath, her voice barely a rasp.
Nancy didn't blink. She felt her own gaze drop, almost involuntarily, to Robin’s mouth, then dart back up. She bit her bottom lip, her breath slowing. It felt like they were on the precipice of something Nancy had never known but desperately wanted to.
Robin suddenly jumped back, breaking the spell so violently "And - and that! That’s how you do it! See? You’re a natural, Padawan! A total pro!" She ran her fingers throug her hair, the light catching on her silver thumb ring.
Nancy blinked, feeling like she’d just run a marathon. Her skin was humming. "Don't call me that," she managed to say, her voice trembling. "And... I was just following instructions."
"Right. Instructions." Robin cleared her throat, her face flushed a deep, frantic red. She scrambled to shuffle her papers. "So…any questions? Answer them I will!” Robin’s voice shifted into a poor Yoda impression, and Nancy didn’t know whether she wanted to groan or moan. Fuck. She could not find Robin Buckley’s Yoda impression hot. That was just another level of pathetic.
Nancy tried to focus, tried to write down the words, but her hand was shaking too much to form letters. She could still feel the phantom weight of Robin’s gaze on her skin.
"Is there a term for... for when you feel like you're going to lose your mind if you don't do… something?" Nancy asked, the question slipping out before she could stop it. “If you don’t…touch someone?” The last words came out as barely a breath, and Nancy felt her cheeks heat up as she looked at Robin. She shifted, slightly, and her knee knocked against Robins with a feather-light feeling that felt like a bolt of lightning that went all the way through Nancy’s body.
Robin paused, a stray lock of hair falling over her eyes. "Yeah," she said softly, her bravado momentarily slipping. "I think that’s just called being horny, Nance." She grinned, but it was weak. Almost shaky.
The air was tight with a tension Nancy had never felt before. Not with Jonathan, not with Steve.
Just Robin.
Nancy could lean in. She could close the gap. Her fingers curled against her palm, the grooves of her nails digging in hard enough to leave marks as her gaze dropped to Robin’s lips. She wanted to taste her. Feel her lips against her own.
Robin let out a soft, shuddery breath, her tongue darting out and swiping against her lower lip, enticing Nancy to take a bite.
“Nance…”
It would be so easy to-
RING RING RING
The moment snapped like a dry twig.
Robin jumped back as if the telephone cord had carried a literal electric current, her limbs tangling briefly before she scrambled off the cushions. She didn't look at Nancy - not anymore. Instead, she became a blur of frantic, jagged motion in the periphery of Nancy's vision.
“Nancy, hey.” The voice on the other end was a low, confident rumble.
“Shannon! H-Hi! Hey! You - you’re calling me. Hello.” Nancy’s own voice sounded tinny and ridiculous in her ears, her heart still trying to downshift from the proximity of Robin’s mouth.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Robin stiffen. She didn't leave the room; instead, she began a series of aggressive, unnecessary tasks. She snatched up the legal pad from the floor with a sharp crinkle of paper and slammed it onto the coffee table. Then she marched toward the kitchenette, her footsteps heavy and deliberate on the hardwood.
“I told you I’d call, didn't I?" Shannon's voice purred through the receiver, a lazy, satisfied sound. "I'm not the type to keep a girl like you waiting.”
“You didn't. I mean, you haven't. So - how are you?” Nancy forced herself to turn her back to the kitchen, focusing on the wall. This was it. This was a girl - a hot girl - flirting with her. She should be thrilled. She was thrilled.
In the background, the cabinet door slammed shut. Bang. Then another. Bang. Robin was looking for something she clearly couldn't find, her movements jerky and stiff.
“I’m better now that I’m talking to you. Tell me, Nancy... are you free Friday night?”
“I’m good - oh. Friday? I’ll - yeah, yeah I’m free. Are you sure you want to work on the project on a Friday, though?”
“Forget the project, Nancy. I was thinking less library books and more Italian food. Candlelight. Maybe some wine if we can find a waiter who doesn't look too closely at our IDs.”
Nancy’s stomach did a somersault. “You - what?”
The sound of metal hitting the counter echoed through the apartment - Robin had dropped a spoon, or maybe thrown it. Nancy heard her let out a sharp, hissed breath, the kind of sound someone makes when they’re trying very hard not to scream.
“I’m asking you on a date, Nancy," Shannon said, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Is that... cool with you?”
“Yeah. No, yeah, it’s cool. Super cool, actually.” Nancy nodded at the wall, her reflection in the window showing her own wide, startled eyes. This was the goal. It was perfect. It was exactly what she wanted.
So why did the air in the apartment feel like it was vibrating with a silent, angry frequency?
Nancy watched Robin’s reflection. Robin was standing over the sink now, her back a rigid line, gripping the edge of the porcelain so hard her knuckles were white.
“Super cool," Shannon mimicked softly, a playful edge to her tone. "I like it when you're flustered. Let's say seven o’clock. I'll pick you up.”
“Seven is perfect.”
“Wear something pretty for me, Nancy. I want everyone in that restaurant to know I’m the luckiest girl in Boston. See you Friday.”
The line went dead. Nancy slowly lowered the receiver, the plastic clicking into place. The silence in the apartment was deafening, save for the sound of a single faucet dripping in the kitchen.
Nancy stayed frozen for a beat, her mind a mess of conflicting signals. Shannon was beautiful. Shannon was a player, sure, but she was her first real date. This was a milestone. She should be running to Robin to celebrate, to brag about her success.
She turned toward the kitchen, her "I’m-so-happy" smile already halfway formed, but it faltered. Robin was already moving, heading toward the hallway without a word. She didn't look at Nancy; she didn't even look in her direction. She just grabbed her discarded jacket from the chair, the leather snapping in the quiet air, and disappeared into her bedroom.
“Robin-” Nancy called.
The door didn't slam. It clicked shut with a terrifying, quiet finality.
Nancy stood alone in the living room, the pretty dress she was supposed to wear on Friday already weighing heavy on her mind. She was a lesbian. She had a date.
She had never felt more confused in her life.
Friday arrived with a predatory speed, the hours falling away like sand until the apartment felt too small, too hot, and too quiet.
Nancy stood in front of the hallway mirror, smoothing the fabric of a deep emerald dress she’d agonized over for three hours. Her reflection looked like Nancy Wheeler - polished, composed, perfect - but inside, she felt like she was vibrating at a frequency only a dog could hear.
"Robin?" she called out, her voice thin.
Robin was leaning against the doorframe of the kitchen, a glass of water in her hand that she hadn't touched. She’d been "normal" for the last twenty-four hours - which meant she had been a ghost, moving through the apartment with a terrifying, muted politeness.
"Mhm?" Robin didn't look up, her gaze fixed on a spot on the carpet.
"How… how do I look?"
Robin finally lifted her head. Her eyes swept over Nancy, from the soft curls of her hair down to the hem of the dress, and for a second her expression was raw, almost pained.
"Come on, Nancy," Robin said, her voice a low rasp.
"What?"
"You look gorgeous. You know you look gorgeous. It’s unfair, seriously." Robin took a sudden, sharp gulp of her water, the ice clinking violently against the glass.
Nancy worried the strap of her purse, her fingers dancing with nervous energy. "Were you this nervous?" she asked, her voice dropping. "Before your first date. With a girl?"
Robin let out a dry, mirthless laugh. "Sure I was. But I guess I was more nervous about getting caught on a date with a girl in Hawkins than about how I looked. The stakes were a little different."
"Sorry," Nancy whispered, a pang of guilt hitting her. "I didn't think-"
"No, no. God, I’m sorry, Nance." Robin set the glass down on the counter with a loud clack. She moved toward her, stopping just outside Nancy's personal space. "I didn't mean that. I really didn't. I’m not being fair. I’m just…" She trailed off, her hands twitching as if she wanted to reach out but didn't have the permission. "I don’t want to see you get hurt, Nancy."
"I know, Robin. Really, I do. But I’m a grown woman. I can make my own decisions about who I date."
"I know you can. I’m sorry." Robin looked down at her shoes, the silence between them growing heavy, thick enough to choke on.
"Robin?"
"Nance?"
Nancy swallowed hard. The question had been burning in the back of her throat all day. "How do I kiss her?"
Robin’s head snapped up. "You’re planning on kissing her?"
"Yes. No. I don't know!" Nancy paced a small circle in the hallway, her heels clicking like a countdown. "I just… I want to know how. I don’t want it to be obvious that I’m… new to it. That I'm a fraud."
"Well…" Robin’s voice was shaky now. "I guess it’s just like kissing a guy. Logistically. Face meets face. Lips meet lips. Tongue meets tongue, if you’re feeling it.”
"But it won’t be!" Nancy turned on her, her eyes bright with a frantic kind of desperation. "With the guys… I never felt anything. I thought I did, but I didn't. What if I don’t know how to kiss someone I actually want to?"
Robin’s breath hitched. "Nancy, that’s-"
"Teach me."
The air in the hallway seemed to vanish. Robin froze, her eyes widening. "...What?"
"Teach me how to kiss girls. You're my tutor, right? You said this was a safe space." Nancy took a step closer, closing the distance until the heat radiating off Robin’s body was undeniable.
"Nancy-"
"Please, Robin."
"What about Shannon?" Robin’s voice was a mere breath, her eyes searching Nancy’s with a terrifying intensity. "You're going to see her in twenty minutes."
Nancy’s resolve broke. The name Shannon felt like a lie she was tired of telling. "God, fuck, I don’t want Shannon," she hissed, the confession tearing out of her.
Robin’s gaze darkened, her hand finally reaching out, her fingers ghosting over Nancy’s elbow. "No? Then what do you want, Nance?"
"Robin-"
"Say it." Robin stepped into her, her height finally working to her advantage, looming over Nancy in the narrow hallway. The tension was a living thing now, a cord stretched to its breaking point. "Say what you want."
Nancy looked up at her, the primal hunger from the club finally finding its true target. "I want you."
A small, triumphant smirk played on Robin’s lips, though her eyes remained soft, almost vulnerable. "Want me to do what? You gotta tell me, Wheeler. Use your words."
"God, fuck you," Nancy breathed, her hands flying up to grip Robin’s collar.
"Baby steps, young Padawan," Robin whispered, her face inches from Nancy’s, her thumb finally grazing the line of Nancy’s jaw. "Tell me what you want me to do."
Nancy’s eyes dropped to Robin’s mouth, her heart roaring in her ears. "Kiss me."
"There it is."
The space between them vanished.
Robin didn’t hesitate. She surged forward, her hand sliding from Nancy’s jaw to the back of her head, her fingers tangling in Nancy’s carefully curled hair and pulling her in. When their lips met, it was like a switch flipped. This was kissing.
Nancy let out a sharp, muffled gasp against Robin’s mouth - a sound of pure, unadulterated shock that quickly dissolved into a desperate moan. This was it. This was the primal thing. It wasn't the hollow performance she’d given Steve or Jonathan; it was a physical craving so intense it felt like her nerve endings were catching fire.
Robin was skilled - terrifyingly so. She moved with a confidence that made Nancy’s head swim, her tongue tracing the seam of Nancy’s lips with a suggestive pressure that demanded entry. Nancy opened for her instantly, her hands fisting in Robin’s shirt, pulling her closer until there wasn't a single atom of oxygen left between them.
The tutor was gone. This was just Robin, taking what she wanted.
With a sudden, low growl in the back of her throat, Robin shifted her weight. She hooked a hand firmly around Nancy’s waist and spun her, the movement fluid and practiced. Nancy’s back hit the doorframe with a dull thud, the impact sending a fresh jolt of adrenaline through her. Robin crowded into her space, pinning her there, her body a warm, solid weight that Nancy never wanted to move.
Nancy’s hands moved frantically, one sliding up to cup Robin’s face, the other clawing at her shoulder. She was losing herself in it. She was being untidy, a concept she usually loathed, but right now, she didn't care. She felt the wax of her deep red lipstick smearing, spreading from her own lips to the corners of Robin’s mouth, staining her pale skin in messy, crimson streaks.
Robin pulled back for a fraction of a second, her breath coming in ragged, uneven hitches. She looked down at Nancy, her eyes blown wide and dark, her mouth a ruin of Nancy’s lipstick. She looked branded. And Nancy liked it.
"Still... think it's just... like kissing a guy?" Robin rasped, her forehead leaning against Nancy’s.
Nancy couldn't even find her voice. Her heart was a frantic beat in her chest. She reached up, her thumb tracing the red smear on Robin’s lower lip, before she hooked her hand behind Robin’s neck and dragged her back down.
"Shut up," Nancy breathed against her lips. "Don't stop."
Robin didn't need to be told twice. She dived back in, her kisses turning more urgent, more biting. She began to trail her mouth down the line of Nancy's throat, her teeth grazing the sensitive skin right where Nancy’s pulse was leaping. Nancy’s head fell back against the wood, her eyes fluttering shut as a low, broken sound escaped her.
Everything about Shannon Munchausen had been utterly incinerated. There was only the smell of Robin’s perfume, the heat of the hallway, and the dizzying realization that Nancy Wheeler didn't want a tutor.
She wanted this.
She wanted Robin.
The heat in the hallway was suffocating, a thick, dizzying fog of friction and spilled adrenaline. Nancy’s fingers were buried deep in Robin’s hair, her back pressed so hard against the doorframe she could feel the grain of the wood through her dress. Robin was a force of nature, her mouth working over the sensitive column of Nancy’s neck with a possessive hunger that made Nancy’s toes curl into the carpet.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
The sound of knuckles against the heavy oak of the front door vibrated through the frame, rattling Nancy’s skull.
"Nancy? You in there? It’s seven." Shannon’s voice - cool, gravelly, and entirely too close - sliced through the haze like a blade.
Nancy bolted upright, her eyes flying open. Robin didn't stop immediately; she let out a low, frustrated whine against Nancy’s skin, her teeth grazing Nancy’s collarbone one last time before Nancy frantically shoved at her shoulders.
"Robin! Stop! She’s here!" Nancy hissed, her voice a wrecked whisper.
"Let her wait," Robin muttered, her voice thick with a dark, smug playfulness. She looked a mess - her hair was standing up in frantic tufts where Nancy had been gripping it, and Nancy’s red lipstick was smeared across her mouth and jawline like a war trophy.
"No! God, move!" Nancy scrambled to regain some semblance of herself. She pounced on the hallway mirror, her hands shaking as she tried to smooth her hair. It was hopeless; the curls were frizzy and wild. She looked at her lips - the lipstick was almost entirely gone, rubbed into a blurred pink stain that told a very obvious story.
Robin didn't help. She leaned back against the opposite wall, crossing her arms and watching Nancy’s frantic repairs with a predatory grin. She reached up and lazily wiped a thumb across her own lip, staring at the red smudge on her skin with a look of pure, unadulterated triumph.
"You look... well-taught, Wheeler," Robin whispered.
"Shut up! Go in the kitchen! Wipe your face!" Nancy scrambled for her purse, her heart still hammering a frantic rhythm against her ribs. She took a deep breath, smoothed her skirt, and reached for the door handle.
When she swung it open, Shannon was leaning against the opposite side of the hall.
"Hey," Shannon said, her eyes raking over Nancy. She paused, her gaze flickering to Nancy’s swollen lips and the slightly disheveled state of her hair. "You okay? You look a little... flushed."
"Fine! Just... couldn't find my shoes," Nancy lied, her voice an octave too high.
Then, Shannon’s eyes drifted past Nancy’s shoulder.
Robin was standing in the middle of the living room, leaning casually against the back of the sofa. She hadn't wiped the lipstick off. In fact, she seemed to have intentionally smeared it more. She gave Shannon a slow, mocking wave, her eyes burning.
"Hey, Shannon," Robin called out, her voice dripping with mock-sweetness. "Have a great time.”
Shannon’s eyes narrowed, her fox-like smirk faltering for a fraction of a second as she looked between the two of them. The tension in the hallway was so heavy it felt like it might actually snap.
"Ready?" Shannon asked, her voice dropping, trying to reclaim the lead.
"Ready," Nancy said. She stepped out into the hall, the cool air hitting her heated skin like a shock.
As Shannon led her toward the stairs, Nancy looked back over her shoulder one last time. Robin was still standing there, framed in the doorway of their apartment. She looked wrecked, messy, and smug. She didn't look like a tutor; she looked like someone who knew exactly where the night was going to end.
Nancy turned back to Shannon, a small, secret smile forming on her own lips. The date was a formality. The dinner was just a distraction. Because while she was walking down the stairs with Shannon Munchausen, Nancy Wheeler knew exactly who was waiting for her in the living room when she got back.
Professor of the year, Robin Buckley.