Archive of Our Own

"Boobies, Robin, Boobies!"

"I told you to stop saying that word!" Robin threw the newspaper at Steve who just dodged it, continuing to pace in front of her waving with his arms around.

"Boobies!" Steve said again and Robin was ready to tackle him to the floor before he continued. "This is your chance to get close to them."

"Tits are not everything, you sound like such a douchebag-"

"They are everything, especially when the Upside Down is knocking at our front door. This is your chance to get the girl-"

"We went over this she doesn't want me and as you so eloquently put it, doomsday is here. We have other things to worry about then-"

"Getting you a girlfriend is top priority and quickly ticked off the to-do list because she wants you so bad."

"She doesn't otherwise-"

"She kissed you, or you her, you were basically making out with her-"

"She was drunk."

"You told me she only had been sipping on her first beer, who is drunk after that?"

"Do you forget the part where she freaked and left the party and started avoiding me-"

"Because she probably realized she is totally into you. I saw the way she looked at you in the hospital, she was almost all blushy and playing with her hair-"

"That doesn't mean anything, you play with your hair-"

"Yeah, but I don't flutter my eyelashes at you and give you heart eyes-"

"You mean you don't do it anymore." Robin pointed out only for Steve to stop his pacing, doing his mom pose, hands on his hip before kicking her chair.

"That was ages ago, I thought we agreed to not bring that up ever."

"Well, then you should probably stop trying to be part of my love life."

"Someone has to be invested in it. Your love life is my business. I can’t let you go and ruin your own chances. The apocalypse is basically the breeding ground for romance."

"Yes, I'm sure being quarantined in a town with portals to hell is just an aphrodisiac."

"You should just kiss her! She's waiting for it. It's time to put on your smarty pants and actually look at your girl and realise I’m right or-"

"Hard at work, I see."

Steve and Robin screeched in tandem, Steve stumbling back into a desk nearly wiping it clean of anything as he caught himself while Robin elegantly, all long limbs fell out of her chair, blinking stupidly up at the ceiling until the mane of curls appeared in her vision.

"Graceful." Nancy didn't even hide her smile, eyes twinkling as she held out her hand for Robin to take, helping her back to her feet.

"Thanks." Robin offered breathlessly, caught in those blue eyes, helplessly beaming back at the smaller girl because it was so rare to see her smile, so even if it was at her expense, and her back totally complained she couldn't help it.

"Nancy." Steve drawled in the voice he used to get babes and Robin really needed an eraser board to tell him how much he sucked if she had to see this keep happening.

Because while he was crossing his arms, attempting to look all cool and unaffected leaning against the desk, Nancy had closed her eyes for a moment, as if to steel herself as she heard his voice, lips pursing in what Robin was pretty sure was annoyance before turning to him. A brow raised.

"What are you doing here?" His smile was hopeful and Robin knew she was bad at social cues but how Steve kept hoping or trying to get Nancy's attention when she obviously couldn't make her disinterest more obvious was sad. Or annoying.

Or perhaps it was obvious to Robin because Nancy kept complaining to her. About Steve. About Jonathan. Her ex boyfriends snapping at her heels, hounding her when she just wanted space to breathe.

"I'm here to pick Robin up." Nancy glanced at her, squeezing her hand with her brows furrowed, eyes darting between hers. "I wanted to go over some stuff about the maps and the crawls, I have an idea-"

"I could help with that." Steve piped up, interrupting Nancy who nearly strangled Robin's hand in her grip, sighing audibly.

"You could help me calculate the vectors of the quadrants and share with me the military chatter Robin picked up on." It was deadpan, cold as Nancy stared down Steve who faltered.

"I could try? How hard could it be, we were good study partners." He gave Nancy a charming smile, running a hand through his hair.

Steve? A good study partner? But the twitch of Nancy's jaw, as if she was clenching her teeth, had Robin cut in because she wasn't sure how long Nancy's patience would last. That expression was far too similar to the one she had worn back in the library when they had investigated Victor Creel together. At the end of the rope and probably ruminating about strangling Robin to keep her from talking.

"Well, Dingus, one of us has to close the station and only one of us actually helped cartograph these maps. So be a good boy and let us handle the thinking while you finish up here."

Steve sputtered. "You are the radio host-"

"From what I heard, your work was already finished or otherwise you wouldn't have had time to pry into Robin's love life." Nancy stopped his protest efficiently and how much had Nancy heard?

Hopefully not the talk about boobies or Vickie because while Nancy definitely had figured out Robin liked girls, the matter rested unspoken between them, so it was a rather theoretical concept to Nancy.

Robin wasn't sure if Nancy would be alright for it to be more than theory. For Robin to like girls. When she was one. She hadn't treated Robin as if it were but-

Knowing and knowing was different. And Robin didn't really want to talk about Vickie.

"You heard the boss." Robin cleared her throat, shooting Steve a look "to stop arguing" and Steve shoot her a look back that definitely was "but Nancy" and she almost could envision his little petulant foot stomp like when Nancy had partnered up with her before and he was left playing babysitter and she rolled her eyes at him.

"If you are finished talking." Nancy looked between the two of them, obviously having picked up on the silent conversation. "We'll take our leave. Bye Steve." Nancy gave her barely the chance to pick up her bag and wave at Steve before she dragged her out of the radio station, by their still linked hands and Robin would never understand why girl friends held hands and as if Nancy had heard she let go of her hand. Or it was because she actually wanted to get into the car.

Robin almost allowed herself to miss the strong grip of her fingers, the familiar chill of Nancy’s skin. She shrugged it off, got into the car and Nancy backed away from the station, racing towards Robin's house like the cops were on their tail.

Not like it would be the first time.

*

Got no feel, I got no rhythm

I just keep losing my beat

I′m okay, I′m alright

I ain't gonna face no defeat

Robin stirred the gloves of garlic before getting back to cutting the tomatoes. Feet tapping to the beat of the song, the counter vibrating with the strain of the boombox. The song almost loud enough to drown out any noise including her thoughts, reverberating through her chest as she sang at the top of her lungs. The tomatoes joined the garlic and she was quick to check if the spaghetti were done before straining them.

I just gotta get out of this prison cell

One day, I′m gonna be free, Lord

I'm just gonna be free, free I tell ya

Hawkins was a prison cell. Most of her life had been like one until she got tortured by Russians and got a best friend in a cinema bathroom. Robin rolled her neck, kept singing, trying to shake off the exhaustion of the day. She always thought her mother was the warden of her prison but even without her now, evacuated, fleeing from this hell hole she was still stuck.

Physically of course thanks to the quarantine but also by her responsibility, the family and friends she chose for herself.

Give it to me

Give it to me, I like it

Eh-yeah, yeah, oh-oh-oh-oh

Can you find me? Can you find me? Ooh

A quick glance at the window showed her dusk was setting. Find me somebody to love. Steve was definitely trying for them both. Robin wasn't sure she wanted to. The apocalypse was at their doorsteps and she was content. She wasn't alone anymore.

Find me somebody to love

Still she belted it out into the kitchen. She was so sure love, required love, might never find her. Still she dreamed about it. Having someone-

Find me somebody to love

Robin whirled around seeing Nancy standing at the kitchen entrance, having sneaked into the house or perhaps not with the music so loud. Voice joining hers smoothly as they repeated the title of the song reaching a crescendo. Nancy was fighting a grin despite the shotgun in her hand, the handguns strapped to herself, bundled up on the big leather jacket she had commandeered from Robin’s closet and used for crawls and patrols. Slightly dusty, a bit pale but her eyes were twinkling.

Looking far too good to be out there fighting monsters. And for Robin’s frail sensibilities. Which died a thousand deaths whenever Nancy was in her sight. Died a especially gruesome death hearing Nancy sing Find me somebody to love. A cosmic fuck you from the universe to Robin surely.

They finished the song, We will rock you another of Robin's favorites started, but she turned down the volume to a normal level.

"You are just in time. Food is almost done, Milady." Robin gave an exaggerated bow with flourish, grinning at Nancy's involuntary snort, the way her eyes and nose crinkled even as she rolled her eyes. "You can take a shower. I left some clothes next to the sink depending if you wanna stay or not."

"Thanks." Nancy hummed and Robin turned back around, stirring the sauce to make sure it wasn't trying to burn to a crisp. Listening to Nancy setting the shotgun down. Unstrapping her holsters. To her soft footfalls and yet still was surprised when hands wrapped around her, Nancy hugging her from behind, melting into her. Her cheek resting between Robin's shoulder blades. Robin covered one of Nancy's hands on her stomach, intertwining them.

Her heart, despite the many instances of Nancy seeking closeness, still not used to it and falling all over itself like its owner. "That's not taking a shower. I really don't want Upside Down spores on my bed."

"Are you saying I smell?" Nancy squeezed her tighter, voice accusing.

Robin thought for a moment she was really offended but Nancy was still holding her and not moving an inch so she was teasing. She took a loud sniff before fake gagging, squealing and trying to escape Nancy's grip as the other girl mercilessly poked her into the space between her ribs.

"Time out. Time out." Robin finally managed to shrug Nancy off, turning the herd down and creating space between them.

Nancy, gaze sharp as if she was holding one of her guns and had Robin in her field of view, target right on her. Was almost prowling forward while Robin made a time out sign, falling over her words to appease her.

Until Robin was backed flatly against the wall, nearly knocking down a picture frame as Nancy stepped right into her space. Despite having to look up her gaze was unwavering, and Robin wondered how Venca's minions didn't piss themselves when they caught sight of Nancy on a warpath.

"Hey." Nancy offered as if she didn't have Robin pinned to the wall without even lifting a finger and Robin gave a tiny awkward wave.

"Hey." And then Nancy rocked up to her tip toes and said hello as she had done for a while. A quick peck to Robin’s lips before she rolled back on her heels.

Something which shouldn't have Robin on the brink of hyperventilation as the other girl had been doing it for months. Saying hello and goodbye with a short friendly peck and being an absolute menace to Robin's nervous system.

Female friendships were weird. Calling each other girl friends, so much physical contact, eye contact alone. Robin was just glad Nancy took the lead on their friendship because what she had learned by being friends with Steve definitely wasn't applicable to Nancy.

She couldn't imagine fighting with Nancy over food, or competing who could eat faster, couldn't imagine rating girls on a hotness scale as Steve always tried to do with her.

Which was just as well because she couldn't imagine giving Steve a peck goodbye and hello whenever they saw each other. The thought made her grimace. Most often when they saw each other at the start of the day she had to escape his clutches or he'd try to put her in a headlock and she would mess up his hair and then he'd sulk for the next twenty minutes.

Nancy at least wasn't tall enough to try pulling her into a headlock, not that Robin would tell her otherwise the other girl might search for a step stool to strangle her. But Robin liked to run her hand through Nancy’s locks, they were very soft, softer than Steve's hair. Not stiff and sticky with hairspray.

"I'll be done quickly." Nancy broke her out of her thoughts, head tilted as she looked at Robin with an arched brow, clearly silently asking what Robin was thinking about.

Robin waved her off. "Take your time, I'll set the table."

Nancy left with a nod and disappeared upstairs. It didn't take long until Robin heard the groaning of the pipes.

A part of her was sure she shouldn't tell Steve about this. He definitely would be jealous. But with how safe Nancy made her feel, free to be herself, never shutting down her rambles rather redirecting them when she veered too of course when necessary, Nancy definitely had reached best friend status in her mind. Not that Nancy had called them best friends.

Robin played with the best friend bracelet Steve had made her, almost the exact same colours as the one she had made for him, slightly frayed and wonky but undeniably a claim to each other.

She really couldn't believe that Dingus might just be the most important person in her life.

Dinner happened in soft fragments.

Nancy sat cross-legged on the chair, hair still damp from the shower. She poked at the spaghetti more than she ate, twirling noodles and letting them slide back down, eyes unfocused like her thoughts were still stuck underground.

Robin noticed. Of course she did.

Without comment, she reached over, nudged Nancy’s plate closer, and stole half her own portion back onto it. Added more sauce. A little extra Parmesan. Nancy didn’t argue. Just glanced up at her, mouth quirking, and ate what she was given.

At some point Nancy reached across the table and took a forkful straight off Robin’s plate.

“Hey,” Robin protested, even as she shifted the plate closer to make it easier.

“You weren’t eating it,” Nancy offered after chewing.

Robin opened her mouth to respond, then shut it again, smiling despite herself. “That’s not how ownership works.”

Nancy hummed, unconvinced.

They ate like that — quiet, companionable, the boombox still playing low in the background. After, Robin gathered the plates. Nancy stood too, shouldering past her to the sink without ceremony.

“I’ll wash,” Nancy turned on the water.

“You don't have to,” Robin pointed out as always.

“You cooked,” Nancy replied, as if it had been settled long ago.

They bumped hips once, then again, entirely on purpose, grinning like fools. Nancy handed her a plate; Robin took it without looking. Their arms brushed, lingered. Soap bubbles crept up Nancy’s wrists.

“We should go over the next planned crawl tomorrow,” Nancy scrubbed at a stubborn spot. “I think we need to adjust the route to make sure we don’t miss anything.”

Robin nodded, towel in hand. Tomorrow. Meaning Nancy would stay. “Yeah, we can do that after breakfast.”

Nancy glanced over at her then, something soft flickering across her face. “If that’s okay.”

Robin blinked. “You don’t have to ask.”

“I know.” Nancy smiled, small and private, and went back to the dishes.

They finished up without a hurry. Robin set the plates away. Nancy leaned against the counter, watching her, arms folded, looking more relaxed than when they had shortly seen each other picking up Murray’s shipment.

“I’m going to steal one of your sweaters,” Nancy told her. “I can’t believe how cold it is and it’s only autumn.”

“Have at it.” Smooth Robin, smooth. She really needed to stop combusting just because a pretty girl, her friend wore her clothing.

Nancy headed upstairs without another word, like she belonged here. Like Robin wished she did.

Robin stayed in the kitchen a moment longer, hands resting on the counter, listening to the familiar creak of the stairs, the muffled sound of drawers opening.

She told herself — as she always did — that this was normal.

That people fled crowded houses. Friends shared beds. That none of this meant anything more than safety, than routine, than choosing the quiet place when the world got too loud.

Still, when Nancy came back down to grab water, swallowed up in Robin's baggy clothes, her chest did that stupid, fluttering thing again.

She pretended not to notice and let herself be dragged to the couch for a movie.

*

Her hair was clinging to her neck, to her temples with sweat. Her heart thundering from her haste to get from the radio station to the hospital. She barely exchanged words with Mike and Lucas before they pointed her to the bathroom.

Her entrance wasn't silent. Yet it still didn't earn her any reaction. Robin hesitated, just a moment as her breath stuttered in her lungs. Nancy. She was bent over the sink, elbows locked, like if she let go she’d fall apart completely. Covered in blood, her parents' blood, frantically scrubbing at her hands, movement jerky as she sobbed without sound.

"Nance." Robin closed the distance between them and covered Nancy's hands under the running water before the girl could scrap her skin raw.

Nancy jolted but the whine that followed, like an animal fatally wounded was what broke Robin. She didn't say anything, what was there to say? Instead she reached for more soap, massaging it into Nancy's hands thoroughly up to nearly her elbows. Remained steady as the older girl, buried herself into Robin best as she could with her hands still over the sink. Shaking with every sob still attempting to be as quiet as possible.

Robin allowed herself a quick scan of her frame to see if any of the blood was Nancy's then rinsed Nancy's hands, ensuring there was no blood clinging under the nails or the edges of her nail-bed. Gave a playful twist to the ring on Nancy's index finger which had belonged to Robin first only for the smaller girl to steal it.

Reached for paper-towels to pad Nancy's hands dry. Then paused. Holding Nancy's hands in hers, pressing a quick kiss against the back of both of them as the older girl's crying slowly tapered off. Both her sweater and pants were also stained with blood. "You can have my shirt."

Robin quickly shrugged off her jacket to pull off her hoodie before slipping back into her jacket with only a top on now. "C'mon, arms up." She coaxed Nancy as the other girl was frozen. Helping her out of the stained sweater and into Robin's. Tugging her locks out of the collar, allowing herself to run a hand through them to ensure Nancy's hair wasn't stuck.

"I wasn't there." Nancy's voice was hoarse, barely there but Robin heard it as loud as one of Nancy's gunshots. "When I finally got there...there was so much blood. I thought she was dead. But then I heard her breathing, so laboured and she was looking at me so afraid and she still asked after Holly, I lost her. If I had been there, if I had-" Nancy faltered, nearly curling into herself.

Robin couldn't imagine. She had just figured out Will was some human antenna, focused on finding Henry, at work while Nancy was stumbling into her home to find both her parents close to death and her youngest sibling simply gone. Kidnapped. Dragged into the Upside Down.

"It's not your fault." Robin knew the shape of this guilt. She’d seen it before — different names, same wound. For sending Barb away only for her to be killed, for taking Fred with her to investigate only to pull her eyes away from him for a moment, for her plan, even if it had been their plan, all of them agreeing, getting Eddie killed and Max stuck in a coma. Nancy shook her head even as she was sinking deeper into Robin's side and Robin was quick to steady her with an arm around her waist. "You know there is only one person — that monster at fault."

"He showed me what would happen and I did nothing."

"That's not true. You went into another dimension to fight against the fucker who has superpowers in his own backyard and you won. We tried to end this and we'll try again until he’s gone for good."

"She could be dead. Just like-" Nancy didn't say it. "And my mom might be too and I told her she was gonna be fine, I promised I wouldn't let anything happen to her but I'm not there-"

"Hey no. They stabilized her,” Robin said quietly. “I heard the doctor say it. Out loud.”"

Nancy's shoulders slumped as she sighed with relief. "Still Holly-"

"We'll find her. Mike has a theory. And if that doesn't work out I might just have an idea as well. Will might be able to find her. But first you should talk to your mom. Maybe she saw something or knows something that might help."

"Right. Okay. Right." Nancy pushed away from her, nodding as she inhaled sharply before measuring her breaths too carefully, shoulders setting, brows pinched together-

Catching Robin's hand in hers before dragging her out the washroom to the chairs Lucas and Mike occupied. Waiting, pacing. Nancy's guilt simmered over once more as they waited for news but this time Lucas handled it and his words made sense. Why were Nancy's parents alive? Why was Holly taken, not killed? Because somehow Holly had been the target. Not her parents. Not someone trying to get to Mike or Nancy. Holly. Will had said he had a vision close to the school in the forest.

And then the coincidence which couldn't be one. Will's anniversary coming up. A kid gone then, a kid gone now. Lucas excused himself to drop in on Max and then Mike shared his theory about Holly's imaginary friend.

Robin's alarm bells were ringing. Mr. Whatsit. A guy no one had seen? Talking about monsters. Perhaps invisible and connected to the Upside Down? Could it be Henry? But if Holly had seen him, she wouldn't have called him a friend. Not with his monstrous visage.

"That woman won't help us. She hates my guts." Nancy offered after a pause as Mike had finished his theory clearly already scheming.

Robin followed her gaze to the reception and saw someone familiar. "Doris? She's such a sweetheart. Last time we talked she gave me her family recipe for brownies."

Both Wheeler siblings shared a look before staring at her as if she had grown a second head. And side by side they really looked similar. Especially as they lifted a brow in tandem, looking so prissy.

Nancy stared at her. Really stared. “You’re… friends with the receptionist.”

"You are sharing recipes with a hospital receptionist." Mike spoke at the same time, in the same tone as his sister.

"Excuse me for taking an interest in the people I meet. Like I've seen her a hundred times to visit Max." Robin stood, stretching her back, humming contently as it cracked. "And it seems talking to people and not just glowering at them or interrogating them, might have its plus sides. Watch and learn, some of us can actually be charming." Robin teased, the latter directed more at Mike, hoping to lift the mood a little and was amused as both Wheeler siblings crossed their arms, mouth tightening.

"Hey Doris." Robin caught Doris’ eye almost immediately.

“Oh, hi honey,” Doris leaned forward, recognition softening her voice. “Lord, you look worse every time I see you.”

Robin gave a crooked grin, stepping up to the desk as nonchalant as possible even as her hands shook. “Normally I'd take that to heart but entertaining the masses stuck in quarantine is tiring work."

Doris’ eyes already flicked past Robin to Nancy and Mike hovering a few steps back. "The only show worth listening to, what was the song called you played this morning, it went along the lines of "And if you don't love me now. You will never love me again"." Doris hummed the melody.

"Fleetwood mac the chain."

Doris nodded, writing it down on a piece of paper before asking, “Miss Mayfield again?”

“Later maybe,” Robin considered. “I—we” she hesitated, then nodded toward Nancy and Mike, one pretending better than the other they weren't listening. “We need to talk to the doctor. Their parents got rushed into surgery and we've only been told they are stable nothing more. Mr and Mrs. Wheeler."

Doris glanced at Nancy, eyes narrowing for a moment, then back at Robin, sympathy flickering across her face. “The doctor must be in the break room. Go to the back, straight and then the door to the left.”

"Thank you." Robin offered sincerely with a last smile before following a marching Nancy and Mike to the back.

Less than a minute later, a doctor in a wrinkled white coat stood before them, clipboard tucked under his arm, round and grey.

“Wheeler family?”

Nancy stepped forward at once. “Yes. Can we see our mother?”

The doctor exhaled, already shaking his head. “Not right now. Mrs. Wheeler sustained extensive injuries—two fractured ribs, internal bleeding.” He glanced down. “And severe trauma to the larynx. It’s extremely damaged. She wouldn’t be able to talk to you even if she were awake.”

Nancy’s breath hitched. “But I just—I need to—”

He lifted a hand, condescending as he took the liberty to grasp Nancy's shoulder, the kind of gesture that shut things down unworthy of an argument. Dismissive. “Finding your mother when you did saved her life. Let’s not risk it now, all right, sweetheart?”

His hand patted Nancy’s shoulder once, twice before letting go in a way that made Robin’s spine stiffen. He didn’t wait for a response before moving on.

Nancy stood frozen for a beat, then her jaw tightened, fire settling in behind her eyes.

“Did you smell his breath?” she muttered. “I don’t trust doctors who smoke or call me sweetheart.”

Robin huffed quietly, glancing after him for a moment before her attention drifted back to Nancy. Watching the way Nancy’s fury folded neatly inward, brows knitting as her brain kicked into gear. “Yeah. I’m with you on that. What an asshole.”

Nancy’s gaze drifted down the hallway, past the nurses’ station, past the volunteers in pastel smocks moving in and out with clipboards and carts. Her mind was already racing—that much was obvious. Robin recognized the look. She’d seen it too many times during investigations, when Nancy’s restlessness sharpened into purpose.

Before Nancy could say anything, Robin, having followed her train of thought, found her attention snagged on something else.

Someone else.

“Oh,” Robin murmured. “Oh, that’s… convenient.”

Nancy frowned. “What?”

But Robin was already moving.“Vickie!”

The girl turned at the sound of her name, surprise lighting her face before softening into something warmer, more deliberate. “Robin. Hi.”

There was a pause there. A loaded one. The kind that carried months worth of avoidance, one drunken kiss, and if Steve was to be believed the slow reappearance of unfinished business.

“Hey,” Robin repeated again, wanting to disappear. “Didn’t know you were pulling nights.”

“Just tonight,” Vickie looked her up and down. “I heard your show this morning, by the way. You were really good.”

Robin ducked her head. “Yeah, well. Steve says I talk like I’m being chased.”

Vickie laughed, stepping closer. “I wouldn't be surprised if you were with how you talk about the military.”

Robin gave a shaky laugh before stepping closer, lowering her voice. “Listen—Nancy's mother is upstairs. Both her parents are. But her little sister is missing and they have no idea what to do with no relatives close by, they just need a minute. I know it’s against protocol, and if you say no I’ll completely understand but is there any way—”

Vickie hesitated, eyes flicking toward the nurses’ station then to Robin and behind her to Nancy and Mike standing there looking lost. Robin couldn't believe she was asking Vickie to sneak her in somewhere again. Remembered the situation with Joey's grandmother too well. Perhaps Vickie did too, because she sighed as if resigned. “Okay. But be quick. Elevator’s this way.”

Nancy and Mike didn’t question it.

The elevator ride was silent, tight with anticipation. Nancy stared at the doors like she could will them to open faster, rigid, arms crossed tight over her chest. Robin hovered close without touching, aware of the weight in the air, of Vickie’s presence just a little too near her shoulder.

Vickie led them down the hallway, stopped at the door. “I’ll wait out here."

Nancy nodded, already reaching for the handle before looking back at Robin, who shook her head in reply. What Mrs. Wheeler needed most was probably to see her kids.

Nancy and Mike slipped inside. Robin stayed behind.

“So,” Vickie started softly after a moment, turning to her. “You okay?”

Robin snorted under her breath. “Define okay.”

Vickie smiled, reached out, fingers brushing Robin’s arm in a way that seemed purposeful, lingering. “I haven't been seeing you around."

Robin laughed, reflexive. Did Vickie want to see her around? “Shifts at the radio station keep me pretty occupied. But I'm still often enough here at the hospital.”

“You should come by the nurses’ desk more,” Vickie was standing too close. Her fingers squeezed lightly Robin’s arm, just above the elbow. “I like running into you.”

Robin laughed, flustered. “Yeah. Uh. The radio station is kind of my second home lately.”

“I noticed.” Vickie’s thumb brushed her sleeve. “Still—you look good. Even if I wouldn't mind seeing you somewhere else besides the hospital.”

Robin didn’t answer. Rolled around the statement in her head, all too aware of Vickie's hand slipping down her forearm to rest on her wrist. The open, searching expression on her face. As if she was waiting for Robin to ask her. Ask her out. Make a move. Just like Steve had said.

Though Vickie always touched people when she talked. Some people were just like that. Nancy liked to nudge her or grab her to draw her attention. Took her hand to-

The door opened.

Nancy stepped out first—and stopped dead. Robin almost flinched as Nancy took in the scene in a heartbeat. Not knowing what she saw. Vickie too close, her hand still on Robin’s arm.

Robin’s head tilted toward her, that soft, distracted smile? Robin flirting, which she wasn't. At least not consciously while her mother laid behind them in a hospital bed.

Something sharp flashed across Nancy’s face and Robin took a step back from Vickie, not wanting Nancy to think she was blase about what had happened.

“Thanks, Vickie,” Nancy offered, polite, voice far too sweet as she stepped between them. “But we need to go.”

She grabbed Robin’s wrist firmer than necessary because Robin would follow her always and started walking before anyone could respond.

“Oh—okay,” Robin half-stumbled before catching up. She twisted enough to offer Vickie a sheepish wave. “Thank you. Really.”

Vickie waved back, still clearly taken aback and gaze flickering to Mike who hurried to catch up to them.

Nancy didn’t slow until they were back in the elevator. Her grip stayed tight.

Robin matched her stride automatically as they left the hospital, heart still racing, until she refocused. Nancy hopefully wouldn't hold Vickie's flirting against her, it had been flirting right? It's not like Robin had started it, not when her attention was on Nancy, on the Wheeler family. She shook it off, mind fixed on the next problem, the next step.

She did notice the urgency in Nancy's movement, like she was trying to brace for what was coming. Robin wouldn't let her brace alone.

*

The red ON AIR light burned in her eyes with a finality that made the room feel suddenly too tight.

“And that was Heroes, because if you’re still out there tonight—after a day of walking, helping, still dreaming—you are a hero and survived another day with our neighbors in camouflage," Robin spoke into the mic, voice warm but worn thin at the edges. Even if she couldn't help poke fun at the quarantine or the military. What would they do? Pay her another visit? “This is Rockin' Robin, signing off for the night. Stay safe, Hawkins.”

She leaned back, exhaled, and pulled off her headphones. Extinguished the ON AIR sign which had been giving her a headache for at least an hour. Rubbing at her eyes.

For a second she just sat there, hands slack in her lap, the hum of equipment filling the space where urgency, movement had been. But she wasn't alone here. That's why she managed to heave herself out of the chair, stretched until her spine cracked, and stepped out of the booth.

The basement lights were low. One lamp burned near the table, casting a tired yellow glow over the chaos they’d turned into strategy: maps taped to the wall, red string crisscrossing like exposed veins, notes layered over notes. The smell of stale coffee and dust hung heavy.

Nancy hadn’t moved.

She was hunched forward in the chair, elbows on the table, pen clutched too tightly between her fingers. Her hair was pulled back sloppily, strands escaping to cling to her sharp features. Her eyes were rimmed red, lids heavy—but her gaze was sharp, cutting across the map like she could get it to talk if she stared hard enough.

Robin stopped a few feet away. “Nance,” she kept her voice soft.

No reaction. Robin swallowed, then crossed the room. She reached out and gently—but firmly—slid the pen out of Nancy’s hand.

That got her.

Nancy blinked, jaw tightening. “Hey—”

“Nope,” Robin denied before Nancy could start arguing, already replacing the pen with a water bottle. She nudged it into Nancy’s palm and curled her fingers around it. “Hydration first. Apocalypse rule number, like… one.”

Nancy looked down at the bottle like she didn’t recognize it. Then she sighed, a long, shaky thing, and took a few gulps. Her shoulders sagged the tiniest bit.

Robin nudged her knee. “Come on. Couch.”

“I’m fine,” Nancy protested.

Robin raised an eyebrow. “I didn't ask. And I don't think not having slept for like, what, thirty two hours is the definition of fine. Sounds to me like sleep deprivation which leads to hallucination, headaches, you know death."

Nancy hesitated, a little crease forming in between her perfect brows as she bit down on her lower lip. "Sleep deprivation itself isn't fatal, rather it causes accidents which are fatal or systemic failures, or chronic diseases and that doesn't happen after thirty hours.

“So you admit you are sleep deprived,” Robin offered triumphantly, ignoring Nancy's huff and glare. “Knew so. C'mon, up you go.”

She pulled her practically out of the chair, really had to steady Nancy for a moment as she swayed, before guiding her over to the couch, gentle but insistent, until Nancy slumped into it. Robin sat down next to her, leaned back waiting for Nancy to talk.

And Nancy did.

She rambled—about sectors they hadn’t searched, about Vecna’s patterns, about Will’s anniversary, about timing and symbolism and where Holly might be. Her words overlapped, circled back, tangled. Robin listened, nodding, murmuring encouragement, occasionally redirecting her when she spiraled too far.

At some point, Nancy yawned. Then again.

Robin shifted slightly, sliding an arm around her waist like it was the most natural thing in the world. Nancy didn’t protest. She leaned into it without thinking, her head knocking softly against Robin’s shoulder. Nuzzling into her neck for a heartbeat.

Her voice slowed. Softened. “I just—if I can figure out where he’d take her,” Nancy murmured, eyes half-lidded. “If I can just—” Her words trailed off.

Robin stayed very still. Nancy’s breathing evened out. Her head grew heavier against Robin’s shoulder, her body curling inward until she was tucked fully into Robin’s side.

Robin smiled faintly.

Carefully, painstakingly, she shifted them both until they were lying back on the couch. Nancy barely stirred, instinctively tucking herself closer, face buried in Robin’s chest. Robin threaded her fingers through Nancy’s hair, slow and soothing, until sleep claimed her too.

“Robin!” The sound of her name roused her. “You down here, or did you finally pass out on the job again—” Steve’s voice hit the stairwell like it always did when Robin had just woken up—too loud.

He stopped short.

Robin cracked one eye open. The basement light was still low, the maps still looming, and Nancy was still tucked against her, a hand resting underneath Robin's shirt on her stomach. Holding onto her like she might disappear. Hopefully she hadn't had a nightmare.

Steve was halfway down the stairs, one hand braced on the railing. He straightened when he saw Nancy, instinct kicking in. Ran a hand through his hair. Smoothed his jacket like he hadn’t just been mid-yell.

“Well,” he aimed for casual and landed somewhere near awkward. “Didn’t know this was a slumber party.”

Nancy shifted. The moment she woke, Robin felt it—the tension snapping back into her frame, the alertness sharpening her features even through exhaustion. Nancy lifted her head from Robin’s chest, blinking once, then twice, clearly irritated at being dragged out of sleep.

Her gaze landed on Steve. The annoyance was immediate.

“Oh,” Nancy husked flatly and Robin would have withered and died if that tone of voice was directed at her.

Steve grinned anyway, undeterred. “Hey. Uh. Sorry if I woke you. You looked—” he gestured vaguely, flashing what he clearly thought was a charming smile, “—comfortable.”

Nancy stiffened beside her. She sat up, rubbing at her eyes, jaw tight. “You’re too loud,” not unkind but not amused either. Then, sharper, “And this is none of your business.”

Steve laughed like it was banter. “Feisty, didn't get much beauty sleep? Not that you need it."

Robin wanted to disappear. Not because of Nancy—never that—but because Steve was suddenly here, and it was too much. Being seen like this. Nancy reacting like this.

She looked at Steve, trying to send him the signal to retreat, to go before he got to the top of Nancy's shit list but that dingus was gazing at Nancy like she was a revelation happening in front of him, completely ignoring her telepathic attempts to save his ass. Or at least his dignity. Perhaps he wasn't even worthy of it, getting on Nancy's last nerves,

Nancy exhaled through her nose, clearly counting to ten. She sat up, smoothing down her sweater, and for a split second Robin thought she might just eviscerate Steve verbally, not just with the look she was sending him.

Instead, Nancy turned to face her. She leaned in and pressed a quick peck to Robin's lips.

It was brief. Casual. Certain. Nothing new.

Robin froze. Steve did too. Because he witnessed it. Nancy's little habit.

“I’ll see you later, try not to cause too much trouble, Robbie,” Nancy said to Robin, voice softer now, like they were alone. Her fingers squeezed Robin’s hand once—grounding, familiar—before she stood and headed up the stairs without another glance at Steve.

Robin sat there, heart absolutely losing its rhythm.

Steve stared after Nancy’s retreating back, his smile slowly faltering. Like he’d missed a step in a dance he didn’t realize had changed.

Then he looked at Robin.

“…Huh,” he blinked and Robin blinked back.

*

The car smelled like old fries, one of Steve's colognes but much worse and nearly overwhelming was the scent of his signature hairspray. If she opened his glove compartment she'd at least find one of his emergency bottles. The scent of it was comfortingly familiar yet still burning enough a part of her wanted to shave Steve's head so she would be rid of it forever. Though imagining how square Steve's head would look without hair was weird but his expression of utter horror would be pretty entertaining. As if it was the worst thing which ever happened to him despite being tortured by Russians and living through the apocalypse.

The radio hummed a Blondie song, as she stared at Steve, resting her elbow on the window pane, imagining him bald and panicking over it, smirk twitching at her lips as she thought about teasing him. Or suggesting a trim of his hair for the "babes".

Steve noticed. He drove one-handed, the other draped over the steering wheel, eyes flicking toward Robin far more often than necessary. Too quiet. That was his tell. Steve Harrington only went quiet when he was thinking and the way he was hesitating, hesitating with her, clued her in. He was about to poke at something with a stick she wouldn't like to be poked.

She sent a warning glare his way which he ignored blithely. Dingus.

“So,” he started eventually, casual in a way that absolutely was not. “That didn't seem to surprise you.”

Robin watched him for a moment, unsure what he was talking about until she remembered which topic always made him hesitate. Made him stupid and Robin’s shoulders went tight. “We are living through the apocalypse, I don't think anything could surprise me anymore.”

Steve snorted. “Don’t do that. You know what I mean.”

"You need to stop obsessing over her, hovering because she's definitely losing her patience." Did that sound a bit hypocritical, Robin tilted her head. No especially not with the tension Nancy carried whenever Steve just came into sight.

His attempts of courting were failing more spectacularly than ever before and while he was her best friend and she should-, would often take his side, he still was a boy, probably thinking his persistence was charming and cute. Only to cause Nancy stress and dread. And looking at it from Nancy's perspective, her friend, it looked bad. Steve chasing after his ex-girlfriend of three years, which he started back when the girl was still in a relationship only to ignore all hints to cease his pursuit.

But it wasn't her task to spell it out bluntly. Nancy had told her how she felt about the situation, about Steve and Robin could try to reign in Steve, smoothen his edges but either Nancy had to start being more explicit about how their romantic relationship had been dead for years or Steve would probably never stop. A horrifying thought. Nancy pissed off and Steve forever yearning and unhappy.

"You think so?" Steve looked at the street, brows scrunched together, sounding deep in thought, a bit melancholic but not utterly devastated as expected. Perhaps still hoping.

She couldn't imagine having Nancy and losing her, having to let go of her to be easy.

"You could have told me."

"Told you what dingus?" Robin sighed, slumping further into the seat, rubbing at her temple.

"That you and Nancy-" Steve paused, grimacing, grip tightening on the steering wheel. "That you two are, you- know."

"I actually don't know. You have known Nancy and I are friends as long as I have known we are friends."

Steve shot her a disbelieving look. "Friends? She kissed you."

"Excuse me?" Robin nearly choked on her own spit, hacking her lungs out, chest burning. "Harrington, Nancy has never kissed me." She was starting to become a little mad, stomach twisting.

"You are kidding? Right? Robin, are you joking?" He looked her over again, then his brows jumped up to his hairline. "God, Rob, you are not joking! She kissed you earlier today on the couch, like right in front of me? Like that wasn't a hallucination. Are you sick? Wait, are you being possessed, let me see if you are cold-" His hand left the steering wheel, the back of it, pressed against her forehead in seconds and Robin pushed it away.

"I'm fucking hot, it's like a thousand degrees despite it being fall like the Upside down bleeding into our world definitely messed up the weather. It's so hot I want to sleep with the window open and can't with the monsters from different dimensions roaming our streets which with my luck would climb through the window-" like Nancy liked to do, tiny little shadow, climbing in with at least one gun strapped to her and evil enough to warm her always cold limbs on Robin. "Like last winter was like nearly Siberian temperatures and all those messed up storms, the lack of rain-"

"Robin."

She paused at his tone, the tone of trying to get her back on topic, especially with the quick squeeze of the nearest of her gesticulating hands. Right. “That wasn’t a kiss. It was a peck. A thing people do. In, like, multiple countries." Before he could argue she offered facts. "Something which is used as a custom to say hello-and-goodbye. They do it in Europe. Hell, some families use it as platonic affection. That little gesture was not even a Mississippi long. Kisses last longer.”

Steve frowned. “I thought hugs were measured in Mississippi's to know if it's like a friendly hug or not?”

“That’s just a bad measurement system,” Robin shot back. “Nancy likes long hugs.”

Steve’s head turned so fast he nearly missed the turn. “Nancy? Wheeler? Nancy? Nancy-who-doesn’t-like-PDA? Who I had to practically beg to let me cuddle her when we were watching movies—”

“Perhaps she doesn’t like it in relationships,” Robin interrupted, heat flaring sharp and defensive in her chest. “Friendships are different. There are no expectations for anything. And she hasn’t had a friend in a long time. She told me it helps her be present.”

Steve blinked. “She did?”

“Yes,” Robin seized the momentum. “And she always cuddles. Probably because she’s always cold. Her feet are ice cubes. Last time I nearly fell off the bed when she tried to warm herself up on me—”

Steve slammed the brakes enough to jostle them both. “You snuggle in bed?”

Robin whipped around, incredulous. “Are you trying to kill us! Dingus, what is not comprehending? You are being weird.”

Steve laughed, sharp and disbelieving. The sound didn’t quite land right. “I’m being weird?”

“Yes!”

He shook his head, eyes back on the road now, jaw tight. “You know what, you’re right. What do I know?”

“Nothing about girls,” Robin said automatically.

“Yeah,” Steve muttered. “I’m sure you’re the expert.”

The rest of the drive passed in a brittle sort of silence, the kind that hummed with things not being said. Robin crossed her arms, resolute, even as she tried to see things from Steve's perspective. Which only made her ache in a way she didn't want to think about, a hunger settling in her gut which had nothing to do with food. Despite her having put that to rest a long time ago, it was rousing itself, small, traitorous.

They pulled up in front of her house, porch light off, street washed in pale orange. Steve killed the engine but didn’t move right away.

Robin unbuckled. “Thanks for the ride.”

“Uh-huh,” Steve replied distantly, looking over her shoulder.

She paused, following his gaze. There was a figure on her roof.

Nancy sat on the little platform only reachable from her window, silhouetted by the fading lights of day. She was focused on something Robin couldn't make out, locks tugged into her face by the faint breeze. Completely unbothered by the fact that she was, objectively, trespassing.

Robin couldn't even suppress her smile. Quite elation filling her, knowing Nancy would stay the night, would for those moments together be safe and as content as Robin would try to make her. Didn't like thinking of her alone at the still damaged Wheeler house.

Steve stared. Then slowly, deliberately, he looked back at Robin. “…Nancy is on your roof.”

Robin swallowed. “She… doesn’t like locked doors. Or waiting.”

“Of course she doesn’t.”

Nancy glanced down then, spotting them. The faintest curl of a smile at the edges of her lips. She lifted a hand in a small wave, like this was the most normal thing in the world.

Steve leaned back in his seat, arms crossing. “You know we aren't in Europe, Rob.”

Robin shoved the door open. “Shut up.”

He grinned, but there was something thoughtful underneath it now, something sharper than teasing. “Stay safe.”

Robin hesitated, then glanced back once more at Nancy on the roof—waiting.

“You too, good night, Stevie.” She offered over her shoulder, delighting as ever in the scrunch of his nose at the nickname, and climbed out of the car. Aware that Steve stayed parked for a long moment after, unaware he was watching her.

Robin eased herself onto the roof beside Nancy, careful, deliberate—close enough to be there, far enough not to crowd. The shingles were still warm from the day. Almost normal despite nothing being normal anymore.

“Nancy Wheeler,” Robin broke the silence lightly, because silence felt too loud and she didn’t trust it. Not with Nancy like this. “You know, at this point I think you have an addiction to petty crime. Breaking and entering, again. You really can’t go, what, forty-eight hours without it?”

Nancy huffed something that might have been a laugh if it hadn’t caught halfway up her throat. It broke off, strangled. Her mouth twitched into a smile that looked practiced—held there by will alone before flattening into a tight line.

Robin’s smile faltered, but she didn’t push.

She sat down fully now, palms braced behind her, legs stretched out along the shingles, eyes forward, pretending she wasn’t watching Nancy from the corner of them. Pretending she didn’t see the way Nancy’s shoulders were held too tight, nearly up to her ears. The way every breath seemed too measured. Controlled. Like if she let one go wrong, everything else might follow.

Nancy looked… small.

Not the way people said it about her sometimes, not the condescending kind. Just—nineteen. Petite in the way she always had been, but stripped of the gravity she usually carried so effortlessly. No presence filling the space around her, no sharp voice issuing commands that made people listen. No certainty. Just a girl perched on a roof, knees drawn up, hands wound together so tightly her knuckles had gone pale.

Robin swallowed.

She was used to Nancy being the fixed point. The one you oriented yourself around. The one who walked into a room and made it feel possible to walk into hell right after, because Nancy was there and Nancy had a plan. Robin leaned on that more than she should knowing what it cost. All of them did. It was easier to believe there was an end to the end of the world when Nancy Wheeler was staring it down, jaw set, eyes blazing.

This was the cost. Nancy alone, curled into herself. For once looking as old as she was. Small. Folded inward, shoulders drawn tight like she was holding herself together by will alone. Her mouth set in a hard line, jaw locked. Every inhale looked like effort.

Her hands twisted in her lap, fingers worrying at the ring she wore—Robin’s ring—over and over, like it was the only solid thing left.

Robin’s chest tightened.

Holly was still missing. Nancy’s parents were lying in hospital beds, broken and battered. Her house was ruined, blood soaked into places that would never quite feel clean again. And somehow Nancy was still standing. Still holding it together for Mike, for everyone. Still being the spine of the whole damn thing.

Who was holding her?

Robin’s throat closed at the thought. She remembered the first time she’d seen Nancy cry—really cry—in that cinema bathroom years ago. The way Nancy had folded inward, trying to make herself smaller, quieter, invisible. Those big doe-like, impossibly blue, eyes glassy, rimmed red, jaw clenched so hard it looked like it might crack just to keep the sobs from escaping. Robin hadn’t known then what it was about. Ignorance and all that. Thought it had been boyfriend troubles, about Steve when it always had been about Barb. Guilt layered on grief layered on anger.

Lodged somewhere deep in her chest and never quite let go.

Every time since then when Robin had been allowed to see Nancy break—because it was an allowance, intentional or not—it felt the same. Like witnessing something fragile and sacred and a little dangerous. Nancy didn’t do this with everyone. She didn’t do this often.

Because while Nancy held everything together, there was no one to hold Nancy together but herself. Bleeding, crying, alone.

Who did she get to lean on?

She was on Robin's roof. Letting herself be seen.

She knew how to handle Steve when he cried—panic first, then action. Water. There-theres combined with pats on the back. And eventually being hugged so tightly it hurt, his heartbeat loud against hers, hairspray and sweat and relief clinging to him. That had been easy in a way. Familiar.

This wasn’t.

With Nancy, the urge to reach out was constant. To fix. To anchor. To do something. But Robin knew how quickly Nancy could bristle if she felt pitied, coddled, treated like she was fragile.

So she didn’t touch her.

Robin shifted, tugging her jacket off before she could overthink it, and draped it over Nancy’s shoulders. She didn’t comment on the tremor that ran through her, pretended it was about the cold even though the air had only cooled slightly with the sun gone. She just leaned back again, gaze lifting to where the first stars were trying to punch through the clouds.

Nancy shot her a sharp look, instinctive. Defensive. Robin didn’t meet it.

“Don’t,” Robin said quietly, eyes still on the sky. Not an order. A plea.

The look softened. Nancy didn’t argue. She sank a little deeper into the jacket instead, fingers curling into the fabric at her chest.

They sat like that for a while. The neighborhood darkened. Porch lights flicked on one by one. Somewhere a dog barked. Life, stupidly persistent.

After a long moment, "It's too dark for anyone to see up here."

It was a plea, an offer, permission to shrug off her control, to let Robin carry some of the weight, where no one would bear witness but them.

Nancy didn’t answer right away. Her head tipped back, eyes closing for a moment like the effort of keeping them open had become too much. “I know,” she said finally.

That was all.

Robin nodded, like that settled something. She shifted again when Nancy did, heart stuttering for a second as Nancy scooted closer—hesitant at first, then decisive. Nancy’s head came to rest against Robin’s shoulder, light but unmistakable. Her hand slid into the crook of Robin’s arm, fingers curling there, holding on like an anchor.

Robin went still.

Every instinct in her screamed to do something—to say something comforting, to fix it, to make it better. But there was nothing to fix. Nothing she could say that wouldn’t sound hollow or patronizing or wrong. Nancy hated being coddled. And this—this wasn’t asking for solutions.

So Robin stayed. Let Nancy take what she needed.

The weight of her was warm and real, grounding in a way Robin was always surprised by. Nancy’s breathing was uneven at first, shallow and tight, then slowly—so slowly—began to even out. Robin felt it through her shoulder, through her arm, through the place where Nancy’s temple pressed against her collarbone.

They watched the last of the light drain from the sky together.

When Nancy finally stirred again, it was with purpose. She straightened, fingers tightening briefly around Robin’s arm before letting go. Then she stood, tugging gently at Robin’s hand, Nancy laced their fingers together and tugged her gently toward the window. She followed without question.

Inside, the house was dark and quiet. Nancy didn’t hesitate—just led her to the bed, pulled her down onto it, and curled around her like she had done a hundred times before. Robin wrapped an arm around her instinctively, feeling Nancy tuck her face against her chest, fitting herself close until her heartbeat was pressed against Robin's skin, fast and fragile and human. It didn't take long for exhaustion to finally drag her under.

Robin lay awake longer, staring into the dark, listening to Nancy breathe.

She was still holding onto Nancy when the first nightmare of the night hit.

*

The washing room smelled like detergent and metal, the air syrupy thick as it coated the back of her throat with every shaky breath. The industrial machines were sorted into rows, some lids rattling softly as they continued their cycle, giving a bit of cover with their sound.

Robin crouched low at the end of the row, machete resting against her thigh, knuckles white where she gripped the handle. Her whole body ached—the blooming kind of pain which throbbed with every heartbeat. Her ribs smarted where a soldier’s baton had caught her earlier, the side of her face, her shoulder where the soldiers had wrenched it back to try to cuff her, knuckles split open where she hit one of them in a panic. Saved from them at least as the lights had started to flicker.

She could feel blood drying somewhere along her hairline.

Vickie was pressed into her side, fingers clenched tight around Robin’s arm like she was a shipwrecked clinging to the last bit of debris to keep afloat. She was shaking. Not subtly. Her breath came in shallow, panicked pulls, lips parted like she couldn’t quite remember how breathing was supposed to work.

If they weren't torn apart in the next few seconds she probably should keep the girl from hyperventilating or having a panic attack next to her.

Robin leaned closer, mouth near Vickie’s ear. Not wanting to give the monsters another homing beacon. “Hey,” she whispered, keeping her voice steady through sheer force of will. “You’re okay. We’re okay. It's going to be alright.”

Vickie nodded like a bobble head, her grip only tightened.

Next to her was Lucas half-kneeling, half-sitting on the cold tile, Max cradled carefully in his lap like something impossibly precious and breakable. The boombox sat beside him, speaker turned up just enough to cut through the room, Kate Bush’s voice threading through the tension like a lifeline stretched taut.

Max’s head lolled slightly against Lucas’s chest, her body limp, eyes closed. Even as Robin wanted to believe she saw her eyes moving underneath her lids. Anchored by her song.

Robin swallowed hard. She heard them now. A low growl echoed from the hallway beyond the washing room door, wet and wrong. Robin froze, breath stalling in her chest. The sound multiplied, claws scraping against linoleum, bodies moving with purpose.

The music was a rope thrown across dimensions, the only thing tethering Max to her body while Vecna tried to tear her apart from the inside out. Turning it off wasn’t an option.

That didn’t make the sound any less dangerous.

The demodogs' reflections slid into view first, warped and elongated in the convex mirror bolted above one of the dryers. Too many. Heads low, jaws unhinging slightly as they tracked the sound. The music.

They were getting closer.

Robin swallowed and leaned toward Lucas, keeping her voice barely above the hiss of the tape. “Lucas.”

He looked up, eyes already wild. Sweat glistened on his face.

“They’re tracking the sound,” she whispered.

Robin’s gaze flicked to the reflection again and her stomach dropped. They were closer now. One of them paused, head tilting.

“I know,” Lucas whispered back, jaw clenched, eyes never leaving Max.

Robin hesitated. “You need to turn it off.”

Lucas looked at her like she’d suggested dropping Max on the floor and running. Wasn't she asking that in a roundabout way? Or rather hoping to save them first and then get back to saving Max.

“No. No way.”

Robin’s chest tightened. She’d known that was coming. “Lucas—”

“That’s the only thing keeping her alive,” he shot back, voice shaking with fury and fear. “We turn it off and she’s gone.”

Robin nodded once. “I know. I know that.” She dragged a hand down her face. Another click echoed closer. “But if they get to us, she’s gone too.”

Silence stretched, punctured only by the music and the scrape of claws.

Robin made her decision.

“Okay. Then listen to me. When they focus on me, you grab Max and you run. Elevator if you can. Stairs if you can’t. Don’t stop.”

Lucas frowned. “What?”

Robin shifted, hand closing around her machete tighter. The weight of it was familiar, grounding. She lifted it slightly, testing her grip.

“I’ll lead them away.”

Vickie sucked in a sharp breath, nails digging painfully into Robin’s arm. “No,” she whispered. “Robin—no, you can’t—”

Robin glanced at her, offered a small, crooked smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “It’s okay. I’ve done this before. Stay with Lucas. When I move, you wait ten seconds and then you run.”

“You can't just—”

Robin cut her off with a look. Not sharp. Not angry. Just very, very firm. “Vickie. Eyes on me. Ten seconds. Then you run. Okay?"

Vickie’s eyes filled, but she nodded.

Lucas shook his head. “You don’t have to—”

“Yes, I do,” Robin cut in, firm now. She met his eyes. “You stay alive. You keep Max alive. You get out of here. That’s the mission.”

She gently pried Vickie’s fingers loose. Vickie’s nails scraped her skin as she resisted, eyes shining. Robin squeezed her hand once, quick and grounding.

“I’ll be right behind you,” she lied.

She stood from her hiding place. They hadn't caught sight of her yet so she crept closer. If she was quick she might give them the run about in this room, escape through the door they came in. Hoped there weren't more monsters lying in wait.

Then there was heavy clanking. The demodogs’ heads snapped up immediately, attention shifting. The demodogs encircled where the sound came from. Another washing machine? Robin sneaked closer. She was in the middle of the room now. Giving her a chance to escape.

Robin stepped out from behind the row, swung the machete hard into the side of a washer, metal shrieking, sparks flying. The noise was sharp, awful—irresistible.

“Hey!” she shouted hoarsely. “Over here!”

The demodogs turned. Robin ran.

She barely had time to register the heat before something blew up. The explosion ripped through the room with a concussive force that knocked the air from her lungs. She hit the floor hard, pain blooming white-hot, ears ringing.

Smoke billowed, thick and choking. Metal clanged and screeched as twisted pieces settled. No sound. At least not over the ringing of her ears.

When the smoke began to clear, Robin pushed herself up on trembling arms, vision swimming.

“Robin!” Vickie’s voice cut through the haze.

“I’m—” Robin coughed. “I’m good.”

She wasn’t. But she was alive.

A shape emerged from the smoke. For a second Robin believed it to be another demodog, clinging to her machete.

A woman stepped forward, silhouette familiar even before Robin’s brain caught up. In a neck-brace and a hospital gown, blonde hair brittle. One arm held protectively against her side, face set with the kind of determination she was familiar with from another face.

“Mrs. Wheeler?” Robin rasped.

Karen Wheeler blinked at her through the smoke. “Robin?” Recognition flashed, sharp and immediate. “Oh my god—are you hurt?”

Robin staggered toward her, immediately slipping an arm around Karen’s waist without thinking, letting her lean in. “You should be asking yourself that,” she adjusted Karen’s weight. “You’re supposed to be in a bed.”

“I don’t have time for that,” Karen rebutted, breathless but stubborn. “My kids—”

“Are alive,” Robin offered even with Holly still missing. She had to be.

Vickie hurried over, pale and shaking. “Mrs. Wheeler, you really shouldn’t be walking—”

“I’m fine,” Karen snapped, then softened, eyes flicking over Robin’s injuries over Lucas clinging to Max. “You’re not.”

A sound interrupted them.

A soft, broken gasp. “Lucas?”

Robin’s head snapped up.

Max stirred in Lucas’s arms, lashes fluttering as her eyes cracked open. She looked dazed, unfocused, breathing shallow but real. Eyes clouded.

Lucas choked on a sob. “I’ve got you. You’re here. You’re here.”

Max squinted, confused. “Everything’s… blurred.”

“You’re okay,” he whispered fiercely. “You’re safe.”

"Took your sweet time , Firefly."

Max looked into her direction but her eyes did not focus on her. “Robin?”

“Hey, kid.”

Max lifted a weak arm and Robin left Mrs. Wheeler for a moment, letting Max wrap it around her neck. Robin hugged back carefully, fiercely, swallowing past the lump in her throat. “You scared the hell out of us.”

“Sorry,” Max whispered, half-smiling.

“Don’t,” Lucas said at the same time Robin did, helping her stand weakly.

Vickie found a wheelchair, helping Max into it.

Robin steadied Mrs. Wheeler, letting herself be used as a crutch. Leading them to the elevator, unable to take her eyes off Max.

When they reached the ground floor, chaos greeted them—voices raised, footsteps rushing. And then—

“Nancy!” Karen’s voice cracked as Nancy barreled into her, Mike close behind, both of them clutching their mother like she might vanish if they let go. Robin stopped short, suddenly very aware of herself—of the dust and blood, the ache blooming under her skin.

Vickie pressed close again, clinging.

Nancy and her mother were whispering for a moment, holding onto each other before Nancy looked up, her eyes swept the scene—and then they locked on Robin.

Everything else seemed to fall away.

She crossed the space in three strides, completely in Robin's space so Vickie finally let go of her arm, the arm tingling with how hard Vickie had been clutching her. And who could blame her after just finding out monsters were real and nearly killed her.

Not that Robin could think much about it, mind going blank as Nancy's hands reached without asking, fingers pinching Robin’s chin, tilting her face side to side. Her touch was gentle. Her expression was not. Her mouth tightened with every bruise she found.

“What happened? And don’t deflect.” Nancy demanded, voice lethal despite it being barely above a whisper.

Robin winced. “Hey—hi to you too.”

Lucas didn’t help. “She wanted to play hero.”

Nancy’s glare sharpened. “Of course she did.”

"She was. A hero. She wanted to go toe to toe with them-"

Robin interrupted Vickie's rambling because Nancy's face only darkened. She shrugged, immediately regretted it. “I did nothing, your mother is the hero of the hour.” Shooting Mrs. Wheeler a hopefully thankful smile and a thumbs up.

Nancy dropped her hands, exhaled hard, eyes blazing. “We need to have a meeting. Mike radio the others to meet us at the radio station.”

Vickie grasped her arm again. Robin shifted awkwardly, too aware of it now. Aware of Nancy’s gaze flicking to Vickie’s hand, then back to Robin’s bruised face.

“Right,” Robin agreed quietly. “Meeting sounds… great. Lots to talk about. And we have Max back now."

Nancy shot Robin a look that promised a conversation later—or an argument if it could be called that when Nancy ranted and Robin would try to placate. That's how Nancy after all managed to make Robin acquiesce to anything. If she didn’t use her pout.

Robin patted Vickie's hand gently. Hoping she would take the cue to let go of her. arm. “Hey. It's going to be alright."

Vickie nodded, not knowing enough to know Robin's words were not truthful at all. Not with Henry still after them, the Upside Down bleeding into their world and the military on their asses.

Nancy watched it all, eyes narrowing in a way which had Robin struggle to swallow, uncomfortable under Nancy's investigative gaze for once.

Vickie pressed into her side, fingers curling into Robin’s sleeve like she needed the contact to breathe only for Nancy to easily break that hold. Stepping in between Robin and Vickie, slipping underneath Robin's arm as if to steady her.

"I'll have a look at your injuries at the station."

"I can-"

"Please, guide my mother back to her room, she needs to rest. Max-"

"Should be going with us. Henry targeted her here. Perhaps he will try again especially now she's back."

Their gazes locked, Nancy's eyes flickering between hers, before she gave a nod. "Max, Lucas, Mike with us. Mom-"

Mrs. Wheeler tried to argue but Nancy was quick to shut it down. And it didn't take long for the five of them to slip into the station wagon, which had luckily enough space for the wheelchair they were definitely stealing and Nancy was peeling out the parking lot in moments.

Blue and red lights glinted in the rear-view mirror. Nancy’s hand settled on her knee, steady but cold, and for the first time since the washing room Robin wasn’t shaking anymore.

*

“Which one of us is bait?” Robin let the question hang in the air, already knowing the answer before anyone else did. Steve was already hurt, Jonathan had the flamethrower and Nancy was-

Too important.

Her. She needed to do it. The others would come to the same conclusion, she had nothing weighing her down-

“I am.”

Two simple words. Nancy moved before anyone could argue.

She pushed past Robin to the front of the group, boots disturbing the sand, already raising her gun, already locking her focus on the Mind Flayer as if the decision had always been hers.

No.

No, not Nancy.

Robin’s chest seized. She had already been once too close, the image of Nancy—laid out on that mortuary floor, barely conscious, skin cold beneath her hands burned into her mind. Too still. Too quiet. She couldn’t—she wouldn’t—

“Go.”

Nancy didn’t look at her when she said it. Just jerked her chin, sharp and commanding, gun tilting in emphasis. Another order. Another plan. Another moment where Nancy Wheeler decided if the world needed a tribute to keep turning she would pay it. Because she said so.

The others scattered.

Robin didn’t move.

Nancy looked small standing there alone. Always, always alone. Even if Robin tried her best to change that. All those times on her rooftop, all those times Robin had curled herself around Nancy when they fell asleep, not to protect her but to remind her she was there.

But now—now she was tiny against the bulk of the Mind Flayer, a single human shape daring something otherworldly to come closer.

Nancy shot her a look over her shoulder, eyes icy, determined, her face hard and she gave a jerk of her gun, pointing for Robin to leave. "Go!"

Robin turned away. She hated herself for it immediately.

Nancy, alone against that thing. Nancy, fighting for her family. Holly and Mike would be safe. What if Nancy thought there wasn't anyone who needed her to come back anymore? No, no-

Her fingers closed around the lighter in her pocket as she ran, legs burning, lungs screaming. She didn’t let herself look back. Didn’t let herself picture it.

They needed to get into position. Nancy always fought. Nancy always held. They would stop the Mind Flayer. They would go home.

Jonathan in front of her slowed.

He stumbled, turning back instinctively, horror breaking across his face as he saw Nancy alone in front of the thing that had already taken so much from them.

Fire. He had the flamethrower. He needed to help her.

Robin grabbed him.

“Jonathan—no!” she shouted, hauling him bodily away, fingers digging into his jacket, forcing him forward. “We climb. Now!”

He fought her for half a second, desperate and panicked, and in that half second the thought hit her like a blade between the ribs.

If Nancy died—Jonathan would be allowed to break. Ex-boyfriend or not.

He could scream. He could collapse. He could lose all sense and reason and no one would question it. He had loved her. Everyone knew that. Everyone would understand.

Robin wouldn’t be allowed that.

Robin would be expected to mourn and move on. To grieve politely. To survive. To carry it quietly because they “hadn’t known each other that long,” because she was just a friend.

Not even a best friend. Nancy had never called her that. Only her girl friend.

She wouldn’t be allowed to curse the sky and beg it to give Nancy’s breath back. She wouldn’t be allowed to stop living.

The thought nearly undid her. She couldn't let it.

She dragged Jonathan up with her, refusing to look back, refusing to see whether Nancy was still standing.

The Mind Flayer reached the choking point.

Robin reached the ledge, heart in her throat, lighter already in her hand. The first Molotov flying in moments, fire blooming brilliant and furious. The Mindflayer screeched.

Jonathan didn’t hesitate this time. He unleashed the flamethrower, fire roaring, consuming, tearing into the thing with everything they had.

Robin didn’t stop throwing until her arm burned.

Didn’t breathe until the thing screamed, convulsed, collapsed onto the ground.

Only then she stumbled to the edge. Allowed herself to look.

Nancy—crumpled, bloodied, furious—and breathing.

Robin’s knees nearly gave out.

*

The radio booth smelled like dust and burnt coffee. Robin sat cross-legged on the swivel chair, fiddling with a loose wire she’d already fixed twice, just to have something to do with her hands.

Sunlight slanted through the grimy window now, warm and almost wrong, catching on the dials and tangled wires. Two weeks since El had sealed the Upside Down. Two weeks since Vecna was gone. Two weeks since Robin had started feeling like she was walking around with her skin peeled back.

Steve leaned against the console, arms crossed, watching her too closely. Robin pretended to be deeply invested in reorganizing the same stack of records she’d already alphabetized twice.

“You should just go for it."

Robin hummed, noncommittal, eyes still down. “Mm. What.”

“Go kiss Vickie.”

She snorted before she could stop herself and finally looked up at him. “Are you insane?”

Steve rolled his eyes, like this was the most obvious thing in the world. “Robin, she’s been hardcore flirting. Like, Olympic-level flirting. Putting it down so clearly she might as well be holding a sign.”

“No, she hasn’t,” Robin rebuffed. Denial came easy.

“She has,” Steve insisted. “The hair playing. Touching your arm. She squeezed your biceps for at least a hundred Mississippi's—”

“What, you were counting?” Robin shot back. “Shouldn’t you be concerned with your own love life, Stevie?”

He shrugged. “Multitasking. Plus, she wants all this.” He gestured vaguely at Robin. “She likes boobies, she likes you, she knows about the monsters now, the apocalypse is officially over. There is literally no reason not to make a move. Is there?”

Robin scoffed and went back to the papers. “Right. So I just go to the hospital—where the sick and dying are, by the way, you know, where she works—and just plant one on her. Just like that.”

“Exactly. Just like that. Go and smooch that girl.”

“Smooch?” Robin grimaced. “Who are you? A 1950s dad? Also, we have work to do. Volunteering. Rebuilding—”

“Work can wait,” Steve interrupted. “We survived the apocalypse. Again. That means we now focus on important things. Like getting you a girlfriend.”

“I don’t think having a girlfriend is that important when the world nearly ended,” Robin muttered.

Steve kicked lightly the edge of her chair. “It is. So out with you. Go kiss Vickie.”

“Dingus, what—stop that—”

“Go kiss Vickie?” The voice cut cleanly through the room.

They both froze.

Nancy stood in the doorway, one hand braced against the frame, her hair was pulled back messily. Her eyes were dark, stormy, fixed entirely on Robin.

The air shifted with her presence like the pressure building in the air before lightning struck.

Robin nearly fell out of her chair in her haste to stand, limbs uncooperative after hours of sitting criss-cross applesauce. Very elegant. And not endearing because Nancy didn't give that tiny smile bordering on a smirk whenever Robin flailed around like a newborn foal.

“Hey, Nance,” Steve waved far too cheerfully.

“Hey, Nance?” Nancy repeated. Her gaze didn’t leave Robin. “No. I want to hear more about how you’re going to kiss Vickie.”

Robin’s mouth opened. Closed. “I’m not?”

Nancy’s eyebrow twitched. “Is that a question?”

Steve opened his mouth. Robin shot him a look that promised bodily harm.

“Robin should go for it,” Steve said anyway, because he had no survival instinct. “There’s nothing holding her back, right?”

Nancy turned her head slowly toward him. “One more word and I’ll point another gun at you.”

Steve’s hands went up. “Copy that. I’m leaving. Radio booth is all yours”

He backed out, mouthing good luck at Robin before disappearing down the hall and perhaps Robin should just shoot him. If Nancy had a reason, Robin surely had a hundred.

The door shut. The silence rushed in.

Nancy turned back to Robin. “We need to talk.”

Robin’s chest tightened. She shook her head, already reaching for an excuse, like pretending she suddenly remembered an urgent task involving antennas on the far side of town. “Now’s not really—”

“Now.” Nancy's voice brooking no argument, not added with the way she crossed her arms and stared Robin down through her eyelashes.

Robin had been avoiding this for days. Since the battle. Since Nancy had stood there and said I am. Since Robin had watched her walk toward death with that same stubborn, infuriating resolve. Caring about everyone else but herself.

Despite the fact that Nancy and Holly had been staying at her house while the Wheelers’ place was repaired. Despite the nights they’d slept tangled together in Robin’s too-small bed, Holly wedged next to Nancy and Nancy to her. All three of them clinging like the world might still fall apart if they let go. Despite Nancy having sat pale as porcelain in the bathtub, knees pulled to her chest while Robin washed blood and dust out of her hair with shaking hands after everything was over. Cataloging all those scraps and bruises.

Robin couldn’t look at Nancy without seeing her cold. Lifeless. Or bloody and torn apart. Not even just in her nightmares.

“What do you want to talk about?” Robin tried to steer the conversation. “The relief efforts are looking good, supply lines reestablished and I have heard chatter that the military is pulling out of Hawkins, meaning we might be finally allowed out of Hawkins-"

Nancy stared at her, unimpressed. “You’ve been distant.”

“I’ve been busy. We all have been busy. Much to do.”

“That’s a lie.”

Robin swallowed. “I’ve been tired.”

“That’s also a lie.”

Nancy stepped closer. Too close. Robin’s back hit the console. “Why?” Nancy asked. “Why are you avoiding me?”

“I’m not—”

“You won’t look at me. You barely talk to me unless we’re around other people. You flinch every time I get too close. So don’t tell me nothing’s wrong.”

Robin’s throat burned. Images pressed in uninvited: Nancy on the floor, pale as tile; Nancy small against the vastness of the thing that wanted to tear her apart; Nancy saying I am like it was obvious, like it was inevitable.

Nancy reached up and caught her jaw, firm fingers forcing Robin to look at her. Her eyes were less furious now. Brows creased. Hurt. “Why won’t you talk to me?”

Robin’s breath hitched but broke in her chest, sparking fire because they had been here before. Robin pleading for Nancy not to run headfirst into danger, about Robin wanting-needing to be there. To be her first call, not a last goodbye. To let her help. So her next words were nearly a snarl. “You already know.”

“It was the right choice,” of course Nancy knew. “I did what needed to be done." Nancy's grip on her jaw tightened for a moment, nails almost digging into the skin. "And don’t be a hypocrite.”

Robin laughed, short and humorless. “A hypocrite?”

“I know you,” Nancy shot back. “You asked the question because you already had the answer. You wanted to offer yourself up as bait.”

Robin looked away. Her shoulders sagged. “It would’ve made sense.”

“Sense to who?” Nancy let go of her, turned away, tugging with a hand at her locks. “You? You always think you’re expendable. You’re not. And it worked. So stop trying to punish me for it.”

“It worked out,” Robin echoed flatly. “What about next time?”

“There is no next time, the Upside Down is gone.” Nancy swallowed after she said it, eyes flicking away. None of them believed it was over yet. Perhaps the realization would never set in.

Robin met her eyes. “Last time had nothing to do with the Upside Down.”

Nancy’s mouth opened, then closed.

“You on that mortuary floor had nothing to do with supernatural monsters,” Robin continued, voice shaking despite herself. “You’re always going to chase the story. And I love that about you. Your drive. Your determination. But you are not going to make me watch you run into danger alone and expect me to be fine with it.”

Nancy turned back, anger flaring again. “So what, you get to stop me? You get to decide?”

“If I’m a hypocrite, so are you. You stopped me from being bait. You kept me out of danger. You sidelined me to the radio station. You decide what risks matter. And I’m supposed to just-, live with the outcome.” Robin finally brought up what had been unspoken for so long.

Nancy's need to keep her as far as possible from danger. All their capers and investigations and then Nancy had been convincing enough, practically check mate her into being too essential, too needed in the radio station.

Reasonable enough the whole group didn't even question why Robin was always on support when crawls happened.

“That was different.” Nancy ducked her head, boots scuffing at the floor, hands clenching at her side.

“No,” Robin softened, knowing why, after all that was the reason she let it happen. Let it remain unspoken till now. “It wasn’t.”

They stood there, both breathing hard, both terrified in ways neither of them liked to admit.

Finally, Nancy’s voice dropped. “I can't lose you, too.”

The words landed heavy.

Robin’s chest ached. “And you think I can? Have front row seats to it? Live with the fact I could have done something but didn't? Don’t make me watch you die.”

Nancy stepped closer. “I don’t want to do this alone,” Nancy caught Robin's hands in hers. “I don’t want to be the one who has to decide everything anymore. And I don't want to leave you behind but-”

“Then don’t,” Robin squeezed her hands, caught her eyes. “I'm never gonna leave you but I need you to not leave me too. I’m not just—someone who waits.”

Nancy nodded slowly, closed the remaining distance between them and rocked up to her tip toes to rest her forehead against Robin’s. “I can’t promise I’ll stop chasing the truth.”

“I would never ask that of you,” Robin shook her head. “I’m asking you to keep me in the loop, let me be next to you while you do.”

Nancy closed her eyes. When she opened them, something had softened. “I didn’t… I wasn’t trying to shut you out. I just—when it’s dangerous, I always tell myself I work better alone. But I-, I don't want to do that anymore."

Robin exhaled, shaky. “You mean that?”

“Yes,” Nancy said, fierce and sure. “I promise. To not do it alone from now on.”

Robin wanted nothing more than to kiss her. Soft, warm, pressed against her. She inhaled sharply, willing to drown in Nancy's sweet perfume. Remain in this moment forever. "And I promise you are never gonna be alone again. I'm here. Staying."

In a heartbeat, in a move so fluid Nancy cupped her cheeks and dragged her down into a kiss. Not a peck. A kiss. Kisses. Using Robin's surprised gasp to lick hotly into her mouth. Tongue flicking against her teeth before finding her own. Changing the angle to deepen the kiss further until the need for air was too much. Nancy pulling back only slightly so they were sharing breath, nuzzling their noses together sweetly.

"I'm sorry." Nancy whispered against her lips and those words were enough to jolt Robin back into her body, ignoring the crash burn of her hope and elation, how Nancy's taste and her soft little hums in between their kisses would haunt her for the rest of her existence.

Robin pulled back, creating distance, unable to look at Nancy. What could she say? That it was fine? It didn't feel fine. She had tried to ignore her feelings, bury them so deep they might let her forget they existed but this-

"It's just-" Nancy groaned and grasped the bridge of her nose. "Steve bringing up Vickie, you really need to tell him about us and I couldn't hold back anymore, I'm sorry."

Of course Nancy would kiss her. That was Nancy—intense, impulsive, affectionate when everything was falling apart. It didn’t have to mean anything.

Robin swallowed, hands twisting together like she was trying to wring sense out of herself. She didn’t mean to blurt it out like that. “Nancy, just so you know, no matter what happens, no matter if I get a girlfriend at some point—you’re always going to be my priority.”

She winced internally even as she said it. It sounded wrong even in its honesty. Unfair. Like she was preemptively apologizing to a hypothetical girl who didn’t exist yet. But it was also true. How could it not be?

Nancy blinked. Once. Then again. “I’m your girlfriend.”

Robin nodded immediately. Too fast. Always a bit raw when Nancy said something intense, too emotionally loaded. “Yeah. I know. I mean—” She gestured vaguely. “You’re my girl friend. Lower case G, space, friend. And that’s not going to change. You won’t be any less important to me. I’ll always have time for you. I'm number one on Team Nance.”

Nancy stared at her, her expression shifted. Not angry. Not hurt. Focused. Eerily similar to her I'm gonna commit a crime face. “Robin.”

“Nancy?” Robin tilted her head. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Nancy stepped closer. Close enough that Robin’s back brushed the edge of the desk behind her. Then her hands fell to Robin's hips, keeping her in place,

“Robin Buckley,” Nancy deliberately tipped her head up so their gazes were locked, “I underestimated how catastrophically bad you're at social cues.”

Robin huffed. “Rude, I told you I was.”

“Look at me.”

Robin did. She always did when Nancy asked like that.

“We have been dating,” Nancy said slowly, enunciating every word, “for nearly six months.”

The room tilted.

“I’m sorry,” Robin choked out. “Excuse me?”

“We are dating.”

Dating. There was no other translation for that. No one dated platonically. Dating wasn’t a friendly thing.

“No—wait, no, that can’t be right.” Robin shook her head, words tumbling over each other now. “Because you never—like kissed me—we didn’t get like physical. Not that you have to, or we had to, ever if you didn't want to obviously, that’s not—shit, this is not what I mean. I just—wouldn’t we have talked about it? At some point? Some little update or—fuck, I don’t know—like a notice? Of the change of my marital status from single to in a relationship?”

Nancy stared at her. Then laughed. Once. Sharp and incredulous. “I kiss you all the time."

Robin’s brain tripped and definitely fell off the edge of the world. Maybe her ears weren't functioning right. “You—no those are hello and goodbye pecks. Completely platonic. Platonic with a Capital P. Friendly. A thing friends do.”

Nancy’s eyebrows climbed up higher and higher her forehead with every word from Robin. “No, they are not.”

“They absolutely can be—”

“I have never kissed anyone on the lips unless I was in a relationship with them,” Nancy cut in. “And if you let anyone besides me give you a “peck” ‘platonically,’ I will shoot you.”

Robin swallowed. “You threatening me should not be this hot.”

That earned her a little crease between perfect eyebrows, which she definitely wanted to kiss. A second where clearly something flashed through Nancy's mind, because she looked far too pleased only to try to hide it by biting her lip. “Since the quarantine started, I have slept in your arms roughly eighty percent of the time. I come to your house. You cook for me. You listen to me. You gave me free reign over your desk which is filled with my notes and papers and we have a shared conspiracy board. I massage your neck and shoulders most evenings because you get all cramped sitting in a booth all day and you get this stupidly adorable look when you pretend you’re not falling asleep.”

Robin opened her mouth.

“And,” Nancy continued, relentless now, “there’s the snuggling.”

“Friends cuddle,” Robin protested weakly.

“Not like that. Not with me basically sleeping on top of you. Not with my hands under your shirt. Not with the neck kisses that make you melt into the mattress like you’ve been unplugged.”

Robin’s ears burned. “Okay, when you list it like that—”

“And the showers.”

Robin choked. “There was a water shortage! You said it wasn’t a big deal!”

“It wasn’t,” Nancy tilted her head, her gaze flicking over Robin in a way that made her spine light up. “Because I thought you were just shy about being naked around me. Or about seeing me naked. I was trying to reassure you.”

Her hands squeezed where they rested on Robin's hips, almost kneading the flesh, but her thumbs coyly brushed over the slip of skin bared as her shirt had ridden up.

“I definitely memorized everything,” Nancy added, voice dropping. “Wouldn’t mind a closer look. Investigate. Thoroughly.”

“Nance!” Robin yelped. “I don’t even know when we supposedly started dating and you are— you—” Her hands twitched settling on Nancy's arms to keep herself grounded.

Nancy stopped, gave a tiny snort or huff, warm and disbelieving. “The night we got ice cream and you tried to convince me to give the Clash one more chance."

Robin froze, it took only a moment to remember the day, Nancy's lips pink from the strawberry ice cream, them both stumbling into the Wheeler house playfully arguing.

“Oh my God,” Nancy's head dropped forward to rest on Robin's shoulder. “You didn't want slow. You’re just… an idiot.”

“Hey—”

"An idiot who didn’t realize we were already together.”

Robin’s mouth fell open. “Wait. That conversation in your bedroom—after we went for ice cream—”

“Yes.”

“The one where you talked about the future and Jonathan and how set you had been on it but that hadn't been what you wanted for so long. How weird it felt imagining anything past our survival—”

“Yes.”

“And I said you were Nancy Wheeler and you were gonna blaze your own path—”

“Yes.”

“And you said you didn’t want to do it alone, how you wanted to figure it out by my side—”

“Yes,” Nancy nipped at her throat. Once, quick and sharp like a reprimand setting Robin alight. “That was me starting our relationship. I kissed you.”

“I thought that was a goodbye peck.”

Nancy stared at the ceiling. “I should have climbed you like a tree.”

Robin laughed weakly. Terrified but certain all at once. She was allowed to want this. “And why didn’t you?”

“Because you told me you weren’t always comfortable with physical touch,” Nancy explained quietly. “And I knew romantic relationships were… new territory for you. I wanted you to set the pace.”

Robin’s chest tightened. “That’s actually really sweet,” then she added. “And deeply unfair.”

“You’re telling me,” Nancy closed any remaining distance between them, nosing at her neck, before her lips left open mouthed kissed along the column of her throat. “I could have been doing this for months.”

Robin’s breath stuttered, skin tingling from the suction of Nancy's mouth, the tease of her tongue, the sting of her teeth. She wasn't even completely aware of it, as her own hands wandered, over Nancy's back down to her ass. Though she noted when after a far too pleasant scrape of Nancy's teeth, she gave her ass a firm squeeze. Heat settling between her thighs at the unabashed moan it earned her. “Apparently.”

Nancy’s pulled back from her neck, licking her lips. “Tragic.”

Robin swallowed hard. “Maybe it’s better this way. If I’d known—if I’d gotten to kiss you whenever—I think the world could have ended and I wouldn’t have cared. Not if I had you like this."

Nancy hummed. “Cheesy.”

“You love it.”

“I do,” Nancy admitted. “But I guess-" she lightly scratched along the elastic of her boxers. "I would have found a way to motivate you. Reward you for helping save the world. Made it very worthwhile.”

Robin’s voice came out rough. “You could just do it now.”

Nancy’s eyes sparked. “Is that so?” She didn't even wait for an answer. Kissed her. Not a peck.

A kiss.

Firm, sure, unmistakable. Nancy’s hands slid to Robin’s waist, to maneuver her away from the desk. Pushing her back until the back of her knees hit her chair, sinking into it. The chair rolled slightly before Nancy followed, settling into her lap like she had always belonged there.

Robin gasped—and Nancy took advantage of it, deepening the kiss enough to make Robin dizzy, hands gripping instinctively at Nancy’s hips. Pulling her impossibly closer. Nancy groaned, arching up against her body.

When Nancy pulled back, just barely, leaving her with a sharp stinging bite to her lower lip, their foreheads touched.

“So,” Nancy's voice was rough. “This enough of a notice for you?”

Robin laughed, breathless and overwhelmed and stupidly happy. “I have a girlfriend.”

Nancy smiled, bright and victorious, completely at ease. “Good. Because I’ve been holding back.”

Robin wrapped her arms around her without hesitation this time. “Holding back, huh?"

"Let me show you." And Nancy dived in for another mind breaking kiss and perhaps Robin never needed to breathe again or think. This kiss was messier, Nancy’s lips moving urgently, whimpering as Robin’s tongue slid against hers, body jolted in response, hips twitching forward. Nancy shuddered against her, gasped, grabbing fistfuls of Robin’s hair, yanking her back up for another kiss. Not satisfied with exploring but staking a claim.

After repressing any dreams or fantasies of this for long, she was finally allowed to. Allowed to swallow Nancy's moan, allowed to let her hand slip under her shirt and soak in the warmth and softness of Nancy's skin, feel her tremble and press closer to her.

If Nancy let her, she'd never do anything else again.

*

“That was not helpful,” Robin announced, opening the door and stepping into the hallway. “In fact, I would argue it was actively unhelpful.”

Steve followed her in, still buzzing like he’d had three coffees too many. “Unhelpful? I was extremely helpful. I created an opportunity. I'm like the best.”

“You created chaos.”

“Same thing. So—” He dragged the word out, sing-song. “Did you see Vickie?”

Robin shot him a look. “Why are you like this?”

“Because I care,” Steve held his chest as if wounded. “And because you were so eager to finish our shift. You were counting the hours and then tried to leave like your pants were on fire.”

“I didn’t run.”

“You absolutely ran.”

Robin paused while taking off her shoes, scrubbing a hand down her face. “I don’t need your help with my love life.” Where Holly and Nancy already home? She didn't hear anything.

“I’m just saying,” Steve insisted, hopping up and down trying to get off his shoes, “if you talked to her, I deserve a full debrief. With details. Chronological order. Preferably with visual aids.”

Robin hung up her keys, ponytail starting to slip loose as she snorted and elbowed Steve in the side. “You don’t deserve anything. You appointed yourself my love-life manager without my consent.”

“I saved you from emotional combustion,” Steve poked her in the side. “Multiple times.”

“Remember, you also tried to get me to flirt with a straight girl who thought the Shining was a bad movie.”

“Which it is not,” Steve fired back, scandalized. “That was just a test if you even could flirt. But that’s not the point. The point is—how did your talk go with Nancy? And did you see Vickie? And are you finally going to admit that I was right about—”

“I don’t need your help with my love life.” Steve followed her into the living room, incredulous but before he could start again, she added. “When was the last time you were on a date that didn’t end in the girl running away screaming and you calling me at midnight?”

“That was one time.”

“It was three times.”

“They were just not ready for all of this.” Steve placed his hands on his hips.

Robin exhaled through her nose, bracing herself. Then, too casually, “Also, I have a girlfriend. So, you can redirect all this unhinged energy toward getting yourself one.”

A beat. Steve blinked. “What.”

Robin nodded once. “Yep. Girlfriend. Capital G no space. Present tense.”

His face did something remarkable—shock, delight, disbelief all at once—before he lunged forward and wrapped his arms around her.

“I knew it,” he yelled, lifting her halfway off the ground. “I knew something was happening! Oh my God, I’m so proud of you!”

“Steve—Steve, put me down—”

“I am a genius,” he declared. “An emotional savant.”

“You have a girlfriend!” he shouted, bouncing on the balls of his feet, dragging her with him. “You have an actual girlfriend!”

Robin laughed despite herself, hands gripping his sweatshirt to stay upright. She really did love this Dingus. “Steve—Steve—air—”

He finally set her down, still gripping her shoulders, eyes shining. “A girlfriend! Tell me everything!"

Robin opened her mouth but before she could answer, she was pulled backward out of Steve's embrace.

Arms slid around her waist, snug and familiar, one hand slipping—unapologetic to the narrow strip of bare skin between her shirt and her jeans. Warm. Certain. Possessive in a way that makes Robin’s breath catch.

Nancy pressed into her back, chin settling on Robin’s shoulder.

Which should be physically impossible, Robin thought distantly, unless Nancy was on her tiptoes, which—oh. Oh, that was utterly adorable.

“You mean,” Nancy offered dryly, eyes locked on Steve over Robin’s shoulder, “had one. For six months already. Thanks for noticing.”

Steve’s mouth fell open. He looked at Nancy. Then at Robin. Then back again.

Nancy’s jaw tightened just a fraction in her periphery, bristling—ready—for whatever reaction would come.

Instead, Steve let out another strangled sound, throwing his arms around both of them, squeezing them into a three-person hug.

“I knew something was up!” he yelped. “Something was happening! You don’t just casually stare at someone like that unless—wait.” He pulled back, frowning. “Six months?”

Robin winced.

“You didn’t tell me?” Steve asked, voice wobbling with hurt. “Robin?”

Nancy smirked, enjoying this too much. “Yeah, Robin. Why didn’t you tell him?”

Robin groaned, shoulders sagging in defeat. Knowing the teasing would be endless. “I didn’t know. I thought we were… friends.”

Steve gaped. “You thought—Robin, you were cuddling.”

“Platonically!”

“You were kissing.”

“They were pecks!”

“I told you,” Steve crowed, hitting her shoulder, “snuggling is not platonic. And neither is giving pecks. Honestly, maybe you should be the one proposing, at least then you’d realize something was happening.”

Robin squeaked. “Proposing—Steve!”

Her brain short-circuited at the thought—Nancy, another ring to remind her of Robin, connecting them like the one already resting on Nancy's finger. One she picked out for her, something permanent and terrifying and beautiful—and she froze, caught between panic and longing.

Nancy answered by nuzzling into her neck, lips brushing her jaw.

“Oh, I’ll definitely make sure she notices,” Nancy murmured.

Robin’s hands came up automatically, covering Nancy’s where they rested on her stomach, fingers lacing together as she leaned back into her. Still in disbelief she could. That she was wanted.

Steve squinted at them. “Okay, but at least you didn’t kiss Vickie while unknowingly in a relationship. Only flirted. You definitely lead the poor girl—”

Nancy’s grip tightened. She reached up, fingers catching Robin’s chin, turning her face just enough—still behind her—for their eyes to meet.

“Flirting?” Nancy asked softly, dangerously. Eyes blazing. “You are never seeing her again.”

Robin barely had time to open her mouth before Nancy stole any answer or defense with a kiss—brief but thorough—leaving Robin dazed and smiling when she pulled back.

“Finally, you are home,” Holly’s voice cut in from the hallway. “I’m starving. And we both know Nancy shouldn't be left alone in the kitchen unless a fire is needed, so chop chop before I die of starvation.”

They all looked at her as she stepped into the room.

Nancy spluttered. “Excuse me?”

Holly pinched one of Nancy's locks between her fingers, tugging at it. “You practically melted that pan at home trying to make eggs."

“That was one time!” Nancy lunged for her giggling sister as Holly began to mention other accidents, tickling her sides until Holly couldn't talk anymore between screeching and laughing. Trying to escape her sisters grip.

Steve threw an arm around Robin’s shoulders, steering her toward the kitchen. “I’m so proud of you....now tell me everything.”

Robin sighed, letting herself lean into him—but her eyes stayed on Nancy.

Nancy laughed with her sister, fading sunlight catching in her hair, and thought—oh. This. This could be the future. And she didn’t have to earn it by bleeding anymore.