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Nancy leans in through the open window to say something, something like call me when you get home, and then Robin’s sliding into the passenger seat, already turning toward Vickie instead of facing forward, one knee tucked up, leaning into her space like she forgot there’s supposed to be any.
Robin is definitely drunk, which Vickie notices immediately, and can’t quite hide the small smile that comes with that realization.
“Hi,” she says, like they haven’t seen each other in days.
Vickie smiles, trying not to laugh. “Hi.”
Robin reaches over, her fingers brushing Vickie’s arm before slipping down to her hand, lacing their fingers together like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “You came.”
“I said I would.”
“I know, but—” Robin leans closer, dropping her voice like it matters, like this is important. “You came.”
Vickie huffs a quiet laugh and nudges her gently. “Seatbelt.”
Robin makes a face but listens, still half-turned toward her, still watching her like she’s trying to memorize something. The car fills with the sound of her voice almost immediately once they start driving—something about the party, about people Vickie doesn’t know, about a song that played twice and how that should be illegal, honestly.
She doesn’t let go of Vickie’s hand the whole time, her thumb moving absently over her knuckles like she doesn’t even realize she’s doing it.
Vickie doesn’t say anything about it. She just lets it happen, glancing at her every so often with a small, private smile.
By the time they pull into the driveway, Robin is mid-story, following her out of the car without pausing, still talking, still close enough that their shoulders bump as they walk up to the door.
“and then he just left it there, which, okay, fine, but like, who does that?” Robin is saying as they step up to the porch.
“Steve, apparently,” Vickie says, reaching for the door.
Robin huffs, still talking as she follows—and promptly catches her foot on the edge of the step.
“Whoa—”
Vickie turns just in time to catch her, hands coming up to steady her by the arms.
Robin doesn’t pull away.
She just looks at her, a little surprised for half a second before it melts into a crooked, tipsy smile.
“Hi,” she says again, softer this time.
Vickie laughs. “Careful.”
“I am being careful,” Robin insists, which is immediately undermined by the way she leans in, like she forgot what she was saying halfway through.
Her lips brush Vickie’s cheek—quick, though slightly off.
“Thank you,” she adds, like that explains it.
Vickie’s still giggling as she nudges her gently toward the door. “C’mon. Inside before you take out my entire porch.”
As Vickie steps inside, she realizes Robin’s gone suspiciously quiet.
She turns back.
Robin’s gone quiet in the doorway, like the thought just dropped out of her head mid-sentence, her attention caught on something and not letting go.
“Wait.”
Vickie glances at her. “What?”
Robin doesn’t answer right away. She just steps closer, slower this time, her focus narrowed in a way it hasn’t been all night.
“You’re wearing my hoodie.”
Vickie looks down like she forgot. “Oh. Yeah. I borrowed it.”
The door clicks shut behind them.
Robin doesn’t say anything else right away. She’s already too close, like she forgot there’s supposed to be space between them, her hands coming up without hesitation, fingers pressing into the sleeves like she needs to feel it to believe it.
“That’s mine,” she says, but there’s no bite to it—just this soft, almost pleased disbelief.
“I know.”
Her hands don’t leave. They slide down the sleeves, tug lightly at the cuffs, then drift back up again, slower this time, more deliberate. She keeps smiling, a little unfocused, like she can’t quite get over it.
“You wore it,” she murmurs, half to herself.
“Yeah.”
Robin huffs a quiet laugh, leaning in a little more, her fingers bunching the fabric at Vickie’s wrists before smoothing it back out again.
“You look—” she starts, then stops, like she lost the rest of the thought somewhere.
Vickie watches her, amused. “I look what?”
Robin just shakes her head, smiling, still touching her, still not pulling back. “You look really good,” she says, and then keeps going before Vickie can even react, “like—okay, wait, no, you always do, that’s not new, but this—” she tugs lightly at the sleeve, grinning, “this is doing something. I don’t know what, but it is.”
Vickie lets out a small laugh at that, and that only seems to encourage her.
Robin’s hands drift higher, slower now, like she’s distracted by the feel of it. “You kept it,” she adds, half to herself. “I was looking for it, actually. Not, like, seriously looking, but I did notice it was gone, and now you’re just—wearing it. Which is—”
She trails off, squinting at the hoodie like it personally offended her.
“That’s mine,” she says again, softer, but still smiling.
“I know.”
“That’s crazy,” Robin murmurs, leaning in a little more, her shoulder brushing Vickie’s, her fingers bunching the fabric and then smoothing it out. p>
Vickie glances down at her hands, then back up. “You want it back?”
Robin pauses.
Her fingers stay curled in the fabric, holding onto it (and her) as she looks up properly, like she’s just now remembering to.
There’s something softer in her expression now, a little unfocused, a little warm.
“No,” she says.
And then, like that wasn’t enough, she shakes her head a little, smiling. “No, I don’t, keep it. You should keep it.”
Vickie huffs a quiet laugh. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Robin says, already leaning in again, closer than before, her hands sliding from the sleeves to the front of the hoodie, smoothing it down like she’s fixing something that isn’t wrong. “It looks better on you anyway.”
She doesn’t really give Vickie time to respond before she tips forward and presses a quick, slightly off kiss to her cheek.
“See?” she adds, like that proved something.
Vickie laughs, turning her head just enough that the next one lands closer to the corner of her mouth.
“Robin—”
“I’m just saying,” Robin insists, still smiling, still too close, her hands not leaving her for a second, “you can’t wear my stuff and expect me to just—” she gestures vaguely, then leans in again, softer this time, more deliberate, brushing another kiss against her mouth, “—be normal about it.”
Vickie’s laughing into it now, a little breathless, but she doesn’t move away.
“Is that what this is, normal?” she asks.
Robin hums against her, like she’s thinking about it, then presses another quick kiss, lighter, almost absentminded. “No,” she says. “This is better.”
Her hand tightens slightly in the hoodie, like she’s anchoring herself there, and she leans in again, slower this time, not quite as careless, but no less close.
Vickie lets out another small laugh, softer now, her hand coming up to steady at Robin’s side. “Okay,” she says, “before you get any more ideas, we should probably get you to bed.”
Robin makes a quiet, unimpressed sound, like she’s already decided against that. “Mm, no,” she says, smiling, still right there in her space. “I like my ideas.”
Vickie shakes her head, amused. “I can tell.”
Robin just grins at her, a little softer now, her hand tightening in the front of the hoodie like she’s holding her there. “You say that like it’s a problem.”
“It might be,” Vickie says, but she’s smiling.
Robin leans in a fraction closer, voice dropping, “You don’t look like you hate it.”
Vickie huffs a small laugh, but she doesn’t move away.
Robin doesn’t give her time to rethink it. She closes the distance, slower this time, not careless, just certain, pausing for a second like she’s giving her the chance to stop her.
Vickie doesn’t.
The kiss starts soft, a little uneven. Robin stays close, her hand fisted lightly in the hoodie, pulling her in. Vickie’s hand settles at her waist, steadying her, keeping her there.
Robin makes a quiet, pleased sound against her mouth, and Vickie smiles into it before kissing her again.
Robin lingers there, her forehead tipping forward until it rests against Vickie’s; she’s smiling.
“Wow,” she says, a little breathless, like she just realized something. “You’re, like—really pretty.”
Vickie huffs a quiet laugh, her hand still steady at Robin’s side. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Robin says, nodding slightly, eyes still half on her mouth. “I think I like you.”
There’s a beat where Vickie just looks at her, smiling.
Robin brightens a little, like she’s just come up with something important. “We should kiss again.”
Vickie laughs properly this time, soft and fond, shaking her head just a little. “Bed,” she says, nudging her gently.
Robin makes a small, protesting sound, but she’s still smiling as Vickie starts guiding her toward the stairs.