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“I’m late, I’m late, I’m late–” Robin runs past the kitchen, where she knows Nancy’s sitting, glasses on, nose in a book.
“Coffee’s on the table.”
“Thanks–” She trips over her shoes, grabbing the coffee thermos. “Fuck my life– see you tonight!”
“Eddie wants to know if we’re on for dinner Friday,” Nancy shouts after her.
“Tell him yes!”
Living in New York isn’t what Robin thought it would be. It’s loud, for one. Expensive as hell, for another. Studying languages full time on top of that sort of just feeds the chaos that is Robin’s life. It’s a chaos she likes, though. A chaos she welcomed, once she understood it. The chaos consists mainly of three components: her friends, her friend’s secret identity, and her secret crush on one Nancy Wheeler. Oh– and inflation. But whatever, right? Ce la vie.
Her group of friends is her favourite component. Robin knows she had a normal childhood, but it was lonely. Isolating. It’s difficult, growing up without a network of friends, where everyone’s either an acquaintance or someone who pretends you’re invisible. It’s even more difficult, growing up a closested lesbian in Hawkins, Indiana. And so, New York is a nice change of pace. She’s not sure she’d be cut out for it though, without her friends.
Steve’s secret identity is a whole other story. Robin knows she was the first person Steve told about himself, both about being bisexual, and about his super freaky sticky fingers– all in one go, mind you. It was quite the conversation.
Steve being Spider-Man didn’t change a lot, though. If anything, it made sense. Steve’s always been self-sacrificial, has always looked out for others– vigilanteing his nights away is a fitting hobby for him to have. (If only Eddie Munson knew. He’d cream his pants).
The last component, though. That’s one Robin’s only recently admitted to herself. It’s not like she didn’t know Nancy Wheeler is extremely pretty and elegant and intelligent and generally really, very, incredibly cool– she just hadn’t realised it was a crush. And then, six months ago, Nancy and Jonathan broke up, and Nancy needed a place to stay, and– well. Here they are.
So, yeah. Robin’s roommate is Nancy Wheeler, and it’s so utterly tragic.
Drinks with Eddie is always equally as entertaining, as it is frustrating. Robin gets home from the bar late enough that all the lights are off. Nancy’s left her bedroom door ajar, though, which means she’s not asleep yet. So, after shrugging out of her jacket and toeing her shoes off clumsily, she makes for Nancy’s bedroom.
She flings herself onto Nancy’s bed without looking, voice muffled as she says into the duvet, “Nancy, hit me in the face before I scream.”
“You can scream,” Nancy says, distracted. “What’s going on?”
Robin twists to look up at her. Watches as Nancy scribbles something in her notebook before putting it down, giving Robin her full attention. Groaning, Robin says, “I’m not allowed to tell you.”
Nancy rolls her eyes. “This again?”
Robin thinks back to Eddie, distressed and pouting, telling her all about how difficult his life is, because he likes two guys, and he can’t have either, and ugh. If Robin wasn’t such a good friend she’d have grabbed his pouty face and told him to look a little closer.
“Yeah,” Robin sighs. “Just know that Eddie Munson and Steve Harrington are idiots, and I hate them.” Biting the inside of her cheek, she adds, “Trust me, Nance, as soon as I’m allowed to say what’s actually going on, you’ll be the first to know. It’s just–”
“Not your secret to tell, I know,” Nancy interjects, small smile on her face.
“You’re the best.” Reaching up, Robin draws a little heart on Nancy’s hand.
Nancy’s face does something funny, but then she’s smiling again, light and humorous. In the golden light of her bedside table, she looks soft, eyes glimmering, jaw cast in shadow. Her hair, poofy as usual by the end of the day, looks frizzy and touchable.
“They make a good match,” Nancy says, and Robin nearly misses it, she’s staring so intensely.
“Yeah, match made in heaven. They make me want to rip my head off. Anyway,” Robin says, flopping back down. “How was your date?”
It hurts to ask – of course it does, Robin’s crush, no matter how much she denies it, eats away at her with each time she asks – but she asks anyway, because it’s the nice thing to do, and because she’s a bit of a masochist. The heartache hurts too good after a while. Becomes so familiar it’s weird when it’s not there.
“Oh, you know.” Nancy picks lighty at her nails. Looks up and catches Robin’s unimpressed face, to which she scoffs. “I mean, it was okay. I’m just not sure about him yet. He’s just sort of… boring.”
“You deserve better than boring,” Robin says, before she can stop herself. Looks away quickly when Nancy looks at her again, expression unreadable. Robin swallows. “And– you know, it’s okay if you’re not entirely… over Jonathan yet. I know you keep saying–”
“Robin, I am,” Nancy says, meeting Robin’s gaze. “It’s– God, it’s been six months, and to be honest, it should have ended long before then. I’ve told you that,” she finishes softly.
“I know,” Robin says. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to– imply anything. I guess, what I meant is, there’s no rush? The world is your oyster, yada yada.”
Nancy gives her a dry look. “Why, thank you, Robin. I’ll keep that in mind.”
Robin sighs dramatically. “I am wisdom personified.” She stretches then, and sits up, giving Nancy a sideways smile. “I’ll get started on dinner. We said couscous salad, right?”
“Yep.”
Nancy’s face has gone soft again. Robin thinks she could stare at her forever.
Stop being weird, she chides herself, and slides off the bed, heading for the doorway.
“Please use the fire extinguisher if you need to,” Nancy calls after her. “Kitchen towels are flammable!”
“That was one time!”
Robin gets in from her last seminar at six the next day, dead on her feet – her Professor does not play around when it comes to Portugese – and collapses on the couch. She can’t hear the radio, so she knows Nancy’s not home. She thinks about getting dinner ready when she remembers it’s Friday, which means takeout (yay!). So instead, she stays where she is, sprawled across the couch, staring up at the ceiling.
She doesn’t remember falling asleep, but startles at the feeling of something touching her face.
“Sorry,” Nancy whispers quickly.
Robin blinks awake. Can’t not smile when she sees Nancy, hovering next to her, embarrassed, hand held in the air like maybe she’d touched Robin’s cheek, just now. She’s still got her scarf on, but she’s taken off her coat. Her nose is red and she smells like the cold, and Robin kind of just wants to bury her face in her neck.
“Hi,” Robin says sleepily.
“Hi. Sorry,” Nancy says again, which– she’s allowed to touch Robin, why is she apologising? She quickly shifts her backpack behind her, something white sticking out of it. “I just got in. Is Chinese okay?”
Robin nods sleepily.
“I’ll make the call,” Nancy says, and then she’s up and gone, backpack with her.
Robin falls back into the couch and blinks at the ceiling. She listens as Nancy orders for them both, and starts to sit up when she’s hung up.
“No, you stay,” Nancy says, pressing a soft touch to Robin’s shoulder. “I’ll get everything ready.”
They eat in front of the TV, curled up on one end each of the couch, their feet touching. Robin loves this part of the day. She’s with Nancy a lot, of course– they live together, so duh, but they also hang out and go out more now. Robin thinks it’s probably New York. It gives them enough incentive to go out, because it would be stupid not to, when they’re finally here.
Watching TV with Nancy never gets old. Whether it be a romcom (they both begrudgingly had to admit Love, Actually is good, actually, once Steve managed to get them to watch it), or a thriller, or what be it, it’s their time. Robin spends half the time watching Nancy, anyway, thinking — I want to be your movie romance.
At least she’s aware of it. Of her stupid, soul-destroying crush. Looking at Nancy on any given day is a bit like looking directly at the sun— this way, at least, she knows what the consequences will be. Not that that stops her from indulging.
“What about that burger joint you like? It’s just a twenty minute walk,” Nancy’s saying. Trying to decide where to go to dinner with Steve and Eddie has, for some reason, turned into a fifteen minute discussion.
“Ugh, but it’s so expensive,” Robin whines.
“Everywhere’s expensive,” Nancy says. “This is New York, Ro.”
“I know.” Robin drags the word out, and flops down on the couch, folding her hands over her stomach. “It’s tragic. Nancy, I can’t keep drinking cheap white whine, it’s corroding my insides. Did you see Big John’s charging almost double for their pizzas now? And don’t get me started on that burrito place Steve likes so much, they’ve raised the prices by like—“ Robin meets Nancy’s eyes, faltering, distracted. “Like— um. You know.”
“Yeah,” Nancy says, fond smile playing on her lips.
“Okay.”
Nancy still hasn’t looked away, the moment suspended in time, tying Robin’s stomach in knots. Finally, Robin ducks her head. Laughs, although she’s not sure at what.
“Anyway,” Robin says, still not looking at Nancy. “I think maybe sushi’s a good alternative.”
“Or pizza?”
“Steve and Eddie had pizza on their not-date yesterday.”
“Ah.” Nancy clucks. “I’ll ask Steve if they’re okay with sushi.”
Sushi, they all decide, is perfect.
Nancy and Robin collect everyone’s orders on their way over to Eddie’s flat – who hosts because he lives the closest, not because he likes cleaning up, he reminds them all every time.
Robin shoves Eddie out of the way once they’ve said their hellos and shrugged off their coats, taking over DJing. She settles on a Fleetwood Mac CD she knows Steve slipped into Eddie’s collection months ago, and grins widely when Eddie groans.
They settle down on the floor, on the ugliest rug Robin’s ever bullied Eddie into buying, and throw on a thriller-action movie Robin can’t decide if she loves or hates. Halfway through, Steve gets up to make them all drinks (he doesn’t ask what they want, because he always makes them Aperol Spritzes when they’re at Eddie’s).
A little while later, Nancy snorts at something happening on screen, and Robin glances at her. She’s devastatingly beautiful even now, hair a wind-blown mess from their trek here, top button of her blouse undone. When Nancy looks at Robin suddenly, catching her looking, she just sidles closer, resting her head on Robin’s shoulder. Robin wraps her arm around her, tucking herself closer to her, cheeks heating at how right it feels.
After drink number two, Nancy pulls away and sways a little on her feet, excusing herself to go to the bathroom.
“So, uh.” Eddie says then. “When did that happen?”
Robin pauses the movie and turns to Eddie and Steve, who are sitting on the floor by the couch. Steve not-so-subtly pulls his arm a little bit away from Eddie, like that doesn’t make Robin want to roll her eyes even more.
“When did what happen?” she asks.
“Um, like.” Steve flickers his eyes from Eddie to Robin. “You know. You and Nancy?”
Robin chokes on her drink, which is impressive, because she only had a mouthful left. “What the fuck? Me and Nancy?”
Eddie’s eyebrows fly up to his hairline. “Okay, sorry– our mistake.” He scrutinizes her for another moment before saying, “Are you saying– are you saying you guys aren’t a thing?”
Shifting uncomfortably, Robin puts her drink down. “What made you think we were?”
“I don’t know, I guess you just– fit.” Steve gives her an awkward demonstration, holding up his two hands before slotting them together, like that makes any sense.
Robin blinks. “Fit?”
“Yeah, like. When you sit next to each other, it makes sense? You make sense.”
Eddie nudges Steve.
“What?”
Just then, Nancy pads back into the room again, giving them all a smile, and Robin melts. She opens her arms for Nancy to slot herself between her legs, and Robin rests her chin on the top of Nancy’s head, and– yeah. Robin gets what Steve means, about them fitting.
Too bad they don’t, in the way Robin wants them to. (But she’ll take what she can get.)
Every couple months, Robin’s mom visits. Traveling so often, all the way from Hawkins, means she’s become a regular at one of the hotels nearby, much to her delight– unlike Robin, she likes being recognised.
Today, they’ve decided on coffee. They meet at Robin’s favourite place, Joey’s, which is also Steve’s favourite, and by extension, Eddie’s. Robin likes it because none of the employees acknowledge that, yes, this is the fifth time she’s here in a week. Steve likes it because Robin likes it and hasn’t had an independent thought since he met Robin.
Once she’s waved her mom over, Robin stands, extending her arms.
“Hi, mom,” she says, letting herself be tugged close.
“Robin, darling,” her mom sighs into the hug, giving her a tight squeeze, like it’s a relief to finally have her close. Robin feels that way, too. “How are you?”
They sit down opposite of one another, and Robin tucks her hair behind her ear. “Good,” she says, and finds that she means it. “Uni’s keeping me busy, Steve’s still an idiot, the usual.”
Her mom smiles at her. She’s got dark hair, not like Robin, and chipped painted fingernails.
Sighing, getting comfortable, her mom says, “That’s good. I know you’re working hard, it’s nice to see you so… fulfilled.”
Robin smiles a little awkwardly, taking a big gulp of her coffee. “Yeah, I am.”
“How are your friends?” her mom asks as a waiter comes over, filling the empty cup in front of her.
“Oh– they’re good. We’re together basically all the time, as per usual.” Robin bites the inside of her cheek before adding, spontaneously, “Nancy moved in with me.”
Her mother blinks at her, clearly surprised. “Nancy Wheeler?”
“Yep.” Robin looks down, nervous.
Her mom sets down her coffee cup. “Robin, that’s wonderful! She’s a lovely young woman. Driven and sensible, and– oh, Karen makes the best casseroles. Although Ted… well. I’m glad he’s not your father.” She pauses, and looks at Robin with a glimmer in her eyes. “Is this– is this a thing? You and Nancy? Are you… an item?”
“Oh.” Robin feels her cheeks go red. “No.”
Her mom scrutinises her, picking her coffee cup back up. “But you wish you were?”
“Mom,” Robin whines.
“Okay, okay, I won’t pry.” Her mom’s smile is a fond one, and Robin feels, suddenly, eternally grateful that they’re no longer in Hawkins. That she can talk to her mom about Nancy– or rather, not talk to her mom about Nancy, in this way. In the way she never could and never will be able to with her father.
“Have you been watching the news lately?” her mom asks then.
Robin frowns. “Sure? Why?”
“Spider-Woman,” her mom says, and Robin finds herself surprised her mom even knows who that is. “They say there have only been a few public sightings of her. If you ask me, she ought to find a more original name.”
Robin does, in fact, know about Spider-Woman. She kind of has to stay on top of the world’s many superheroes and villains, seeing as her best friend is literally a (local) superhero himself. She needs to be the first to know if he’s been kidnapped, or something.
Also, women are woefully underrepresented in the superhero community, and it’s exciting when a new one emerges, so yes, she’s heard of Spider-Woman. Has maybe even forwarded a few articles about her to Steve, telling him to up his game or resign himself to becoming a relic.
In the end, Robin says, “I don’t think she’s a copycat, mom. I mean, they’ve got… really similar abilities, right? It makes sense she, you know, markets herself like Spider-Man, or whatever.”
“She could have called herself Ant-Woman,” her mom says, because she’s crazy. “Ants defy gravity, they can climb walls.”
“Mom.”
“Or Wasp-Woman.”
“Mom.”
“Alright, alright. I’m just saying.”
All in all, it’s good to see her mom again.
“How was coffee?” Nancy asks when she gets home. She asks it casually enough, knows to tread lightly, but she glances at her worriedly as she drops a tea bag into her mug.
Robin snorts. “Really nice, actually. Sometimes I forget my mom is so similar to me. She literally would not shut up about Spider-Woman.”
Nancy freezes. Doesn’t look up as she stirs. “Oh? You know about Spider-Woman?”
“Yeah, I keep an eye on– um. You know, cool superheroes.”
“What, um. What did your mom say about her, exactly?”
Robin shrugs loosely. “I don’t know, she was pretty passionate about Spider-Woman being, like, too unoriginal of a name.”
Nancy’s mouth falls open. “But– she literally has the same abilities as Spider-Man! Besides, the public decided on her name. What was she supposed to do, tell everyone that, no, she’ll go by Sticky Fingers, or something?”
Robin looks at Nancy and tries to convey how absurd this is with her eyes before she starts giggling, unable to stop herself. “I didn’t know you were so passionate about Spider-Woman.”
Nancy’s cheeks to red. “Yes, well. Women aren’t exactly overly represented in the media as capable superheroes.”
“I love you so much,” Robin gasps, and it’s only a moment later that she realises what she’s said. She stops laughing immediately, because fuck, should she just pretend she didn’t say it? Should she start crying? Should she pack her bags?
She holds breath, and looks at Nancy, prepared for confusion, pity, or even second-hand embarrassment to be written all over her face. Instead, Nancy’s face is soft, eyes glimmering in the gentle light.
Softly, she replies, “Love you too, Ro. Even though your mom doesn’t get superhero politics.”
Robin tries to calm her racing heart. “Oh, yeah, I don’t– I mean, I think Spider-Woman is a great name.”
Nancy smiles as she walks by, running her hand over Robin’s head, which what– before she heads for her bedroom. “I’m glad we agree.”
“Uh,” Robin says, watching her go. “Yeah.”
“You never go on any dates,” Nancy says one night. They’re in Nancy’s room, curled up on her bed. Robin’s got her laptop balanced on her chest, head on a pillow, whilst Nancy’s sitting next to her with her legs crossed, idly fingering a Nat Geo magazine.
Nancy’s comment makes Robin’s chest go tight, but she does her best to feign indifference. “So?”
“So,” Nancy says slowly. “Do you want to?”
“Um, no.” Robin shifts uncomfortably.
“Okay.” It’s so casual, the way Nancy accepts her answer, like she doesn’t care, but– she’s the one who asked Robin. It makes Robin feel small.
But then Nancy’s scooting over, ghosting her her hand over Robin’s arm, inviting her closer. Robin — ignoring her thundering heart — turns, shifting so her head’s in Nancy’s lap, staring up at her. Nancy looks down at her, inscrutable look on her face, as she runs a hand through Robin’s hair.
The moment seems to span on forever, until suddenly Nancy opens her mouth, but before she can get a word out, Robin says, “Movie tonight?”
Nancy lets her get away with it. “Movie tonight.”
Later, halfway through the movie, Robin fetches two glasses of wine (white, because Nancy likes it better) and plops back down with a sigh.
Tucked underneath a patchwork blanket, Nancy looks even smaller than she is, almost melting into the couch. Robin hands her a glass, receiving Nancy’s warm smile with a smile of her own. She scoots closer and takes her hand, giving it a little squeeze. Head turned back on the TV, eyes soft, Nancy squeezes back.
When Nancy had only just moved, she’d talked a lot about Jonathan, and sometimes also Steve. She had confided in Robin once that she was difficult to love, that she drove people away.
But the truth, the real horror of it all, is that it’s easy. For all she is and all she is not. Her gentleness, her stubbornness, her need for order, to be understood– Robin loves her for it. It’s a simple truth, but it’s okay, because Robin’s dealt with this before, has gone through the motions of falling for someone she can’t have before. And although it’s slow, delicious torture to have her here, to live with her, she can deal with it.
When he movie comes to an end, Nancy yawns, slumping further back into the couch. She turns her head, cheek smushed against the pillow, and says, “Sleepover?”
Robin ignores the swell of butterflies the words evoke. “Fuck yeah.”
It’s a thing they do, sometimes. They almost always take Nancy’s bed– she’s got the softer mattress. Robin sleeps on the left side, and she usually wakes up with Nancy’s nose pressed up to her collarbone, and in those sleep-fuzzy moments in between sleeping and waking up, Robin can pretend.
This time, after turning the bedside lamp off, Nancy sighs and shuffles closer. Robin turns so that they’re facing each other, but she can hardly see Nancy at all in the dark.
Right before closing her eyes, Nancy whispers, “Bonne nuit, ma chérie.”
Into the darkness, voice hoarse, Robin whispers back, “Eu te amo.”
Two days later, Nancy walks through the front door with flowers.
“Ooh, secret admirer?” Robin asks from the couch, and then it clicks. “Oh wait, it’s Thursday, right? Date night!”
Nancy gives her an exasperated smile. “Yes, Robin. Date night, as you’ve so kindly dubbed it.”
“Could have called it Wheeler-tries-to-get-some-night, but I resisted, so– hey!” Robin ducks, when Nancy hurls the flowers at her – thankfully still in their plastic wrap – and throws her a dirty look right back. “Rude.”
“Deserved,” Nancy says, and unties her shoes.
Robin watches her, biting her lip. “So. How was it?”
“How was what?” Nancy’s hair is in the way of her face, so Robin can’t gauge her reaction.
“The date, Nance.”
Nancy looks up, and Robin pauses when she sees something wary in her expression, in the way she’s holding herself. She takes off her coat, pursing her lips, before she says, “It was good.”
“That’s… good.” Robin’s confused again. “Um, any particular reason why, or…?”
Nancy shrugs. Looks away. “We shared a starter. Sara finished my, um, salad for me.”
And with that, Nancy whisks herself away, making for her bedroom.
Sara. Sara finished–
Robin feels her world tilt sideways, time slowing down around her.
She snaps out of it with a start.
“Wait–” Robin nearly vaults off the couch, running after Nancy.
“I have to get changed,” Nancy says tightly, entering her bedroom (but she doesn’t close her door in Robin’s face, so. Small mercies).
“Nancy. Hold on.” Robin feels winded. “Sara?”
“Yes.” Nancy’s not looking at her, directing her attention instead to rooting through her drawer.
“You went on a date with a woman?”
“Yes.”
Robin thinks her heart might actually be tearing itself in two where it sits beneath her ribcage, beating so hard a wave of nausea rolls over her. But Nancy looks sad, now, eyes suspiciously wet, mouth set in a thin line, so unthinkingly, Robin moves. She hauls Nancy in, enveloping her in a crushing embrace. Squeezes her eyes shut, willing the hot tears to just go away, trying to keep her mouth from trembling. Nancy remains frozen for all of a second before it’s like she melts, arms coming up to pull Robin even closer.
They stand just like that for a long time. Robin holds her breath when Nancy draws a circle over Robin’s back with her fingers, touch light as it always is.
She doesn’t want you.
“Hey,” Robin says in a whisper, trying to keep her voice from wavering. “I’m happy for you.”
Nancy laughs wetly into her shoulder. “Thank you. Me too.” She sniffles. Seems to breathe Robin in. “I’m happy, I mean.”
Robin holds her tighter.
Robin knows it’s pathetic, but she cries herself to sleep that night. She feels stupid, wrapping her arms around herself. Hates how hard her body trembles, even under the covers. Tries not to make a sound, turning her face into the pillow where she sobs soundlessly.
The rest of the week is fucking exhausting.
She can’t talk about it with anyone, is the thing. Can’t risk outing Nancy. It’s good, of course, that Nancy’s figuring herself out. Fuck– it’s great, even. But selfishly – horribly – some part of Robin had thought, when she’d allowed herself to daydream, that Nancy would want her, if she could want women that way.
It’s stupid, Robin knows now. She hadn’t even realised how much she cared, how much she wanted and longed and fucking ached, until she’d been told that no, Nancy Wheeler is not opposed to dating women, she just doesn’t want to date Robin.
The hurt digs its claws into Robin, buries itself deep, and doesn’t seem to be keen on letting go anytime soon. Robin’s okay with it. It’s proof, in a way, that she can love deeply and recklessly, and– it sucks. It sucks so much, but God, if she doesn’t love Nancy enough to stomach it. Just another ache to carry with her, to keep close and locked in.
Robin does this thing sometimes (often), where when something hurts and she can’t talk about it, she talks about other pains. That way, she reasons, she still gets the comfort she’s seeking without spinning out of control. It’s like, totally healthy.
When she grabs lunch with Steve on Wednesday, she opens her big fat mouth and says, “My birthday’s next week.”
Steve gasps childishly, dipping his fries in his vanilla milkshake. “Oh, wow. Same date again this year?”
Robin kicks him under the table. “Dingus.”
Steve chews his fries obnoxiously at her.
Robin stares, unimpressed. “I can’t believe Eddie hasn’t propositioned you yet.”
Steve rolls his eyes. “Ooh, okay, virgin.”
Cheeks going red, Robin seethes, “I know things about you, Steven–”
“Fine, fine,” Steve raises his hands. “Jesus. Sorry.”
“You are the worst.” Robin steals a fry off Steve, before adding, “I don’t think I want anything big, this year.”
Steve raises his eyebrows. “No party, no nothing?”
Robin shrugs. “Small party, maybe. But– not like last year.”
Last year had been – even to Steve’s standards – crazy. They’d started off at a bar, and Robin had been sure they’d made the right decision when Eurythmics came on – Better To Have Lost In Love (Than Never To Have Loved), the soundtrack for the evening – and felt inspired enough to send her location to her entire course’s groupchat, with the text message: it’s my bday!!! come celebrate w me ;)
A little while later, upwards of twenty people with familiar faces were at the bar, and eventually, they conceded a relocation was necessary. Which is how they all ended up at Eddie’s, because Robin still lived in a dorm back then, and frankly, she could have fit maybe three people in there.
She can’t really remember the rest of the night, but she did wake up with a killer leather jacket on, so all in all, she’d say it was a successful night of celebration.
She’s not so sure she feels up for it, this year.
“Hey, are you okay?” Steve asks suddenly.
Robin looks up, realising she’d been frowning at the table. “What? Yeah. Why?”
“You just seem… off.”
She avoids his eyes, as if he’d be able to read on her face how Nancy’s breaking her heart in real-time. “Maybe I don’t want to think about the fact I’m old now.”
“Says the girl who couldn’t wait to get old and sexy and wear red lipstick and smoke cigars like, last week.” Steve reaches across the table, taking Robin’s hand. “Where’d she go?”
“Away.” Robin thunks her head against the table.
“Rob.”
When she just groans in response, Steve adds, “Me and Eddie could host, if you want.”
“No, Steve.” She lifts her head. “I mean— that’s really nice and all, but I’m a big girl now. I can host my own birthday parties.”
Robin’s not sure she would admit it, in case she came across as ungrateful, but her favourite part of hosting parties is the hour before it starts. With the music on, lower than it will be later, the lighting ambient, the snacks on the counter, and the company as good as it’s going to get, she feels at peace.
Nancy’s wearing a see-through top over a bralette paired with a black skirt, and she’s beautiful. Robin’s eyes keep catching on Nancy’s hands as she sips wine, humming gently along to the music.
Nancy’s sitting in front of her full-body mirror, dotting black eyeshadow under her eyes, and Robin’s sitting next to her, waiting her turn. It feels like the most natural thing in the world, sharing this space with her, just the two of them.
When Nancy puts down her makeup brush, satisfied, she gives Robin a happy little smile in the mirror, before turning to her.
“So,” she says, looking down even as she smiles. “What were you thinking?”
“Um,” Robin’s voice breaks. “Nothing– too dramatic, I guess? Maybe some eyeshadow?”
“Ooh, Robin,” Nancy teases, grabbing her makeup bag. “Branching out, I like it.”
When Nancy’s shuffled in even closer on her knees, leaning over Robin with the makeup brush hovering, Robin holds her breath. Can’t look away from Nancy’s face, can’t keep from looking at where Nancy’s tongue pokes out in concentration as she works.
As Nancy lines Robin’s lips with lipliner, and then lipgloss, Robin can’t help but let out a small, shuddering breath. She closes her eyes.
Get yourself together.
What could be seconds or minutes later, Nancy gives a little nod, scrutinising her work. “All done.”
Reluctantly, Robin turns towards the mirror, away from Nancy.
Robin’s met by a stranger, in the mirror. “Wow.”
“Is it okay?” Nancy asks, almost nervously.
Robin can only nod. Almost it odd the pretty girl in the mirror nods at the same time.
Nancy transformed her. Robin feels like she could be a movie star, or a singer, or something. She looks like she’s got her shit together. Flickering her eyes up, she meets Nancy’s heavy gaze in the mirror. For a long moment, neither of them say anything.
And then Nancy looks away sharply, grabbing her glass of wine. She takes a big sip before she makes as if to stand.
“Hey,” Robin says, and Nancy pauses. Liquid courage allows her to continue, “So, tell me to shut up, but– are you going to tell Steve and Eddie about Jonathan?”
Are you going to tell Steve and Eddie about moving in with me? Six months ago?
Nancy doesn’t tense up, like Robin half-expects her to. Instead, she just sighs. Slumps, like she’s already drunk. “Yes. No. I don’t know. I guess I just waited too long.”
Before Robin can reply to that, Nancy gives her a too-bright smile, and says, “I’ll make sure we’ve got the snacks out.”
It’s a small party, Robin tells herself, when she opens the door to yet another wave of guests.
It takes a bit of time, most of which Robin spends trailing Nancy, before she gets into it. But at some point someone - Steve, she knows, deep down - throws on Better To Have Lost In Love (Than Never To Have Loved), and it all spirals from there.
She dances with Eddie first, until a pretty girl with dark hair and darker eyes takes his place. She sings along to the song– seems pretty familiar with Eurythmics, actually, which just a month ago would have had Robin groveling at her feet, because come on, pretty girl, good music taste = true, sticky, romantic love.
Now, though? Robin’s so busy trying to look over her shoulder she hardly notices when the girl finally slips out of her arms, half a song later.
She’s not too bummed about it. Goes to find Steve, instead, and watches him fall ass-first trying to down what looks like a fireball. Eddie, stumbling with a shit-eating grin on his face, bends down to pick him back up.
“You are such a loser,” Robin tells Steve (affectionately) when he’s up, smiling dopily at her.
“That, he is,” Eddie sighs, a note of wistfulness in his voice.
Robin spins around, for a minute, trying to get her bearings. She talks to people she knows she’s never met before, friends of her friends, or whatever. No matter which way she looks, though, Nancy is not.
But then a slender hand wraps around Robin's forearm, tugging her away from the throng of people. Stumbling, Robin lets herself be led into the bathroom.
She rights herself and looks up, only to find Nancy looking at her apologetically. She isn’t dressed up, anymore. Instead, she’s wearing a pair of sweats and a hoodie, something white peaking out from under the sleeves, and it’s so unlike her Robin’s left speechless.
“Sorry,” Nancy says in a rush, then halts. Pursing her lips, she says, “Look. I have to– I have to do something? So, I have to go.”
Robin frowns. “What?”
“I’m sorry, Ro,” Nancy says, buzzing a little on the spot. “I know this isn’t ideal, and I’ll– I mean, one day I’ll explain everything but–”
“You have to go?” Robin asks dully, because it doesn’t make sense– Nancy lives here, so where would she– unless Sara’s called. Would Nancy accept a bootycall on Robin’s birthday? No way. No way, unless, maybe– unless she was bored? Fuck. Robin should’ve tried harder to find her.
“Yeah.” Nancy’s voice is soft but insistent, like she’s in a hurry, and Robin hates that. She doesn’t know why it stings the way it does. It’s not like they’ve been hanging out a lot tonight, but– still. Maybe that’s the problem.
“I want you to stay,” Robin says, petulant.
“I– I can’t.” Nancy looks pained. Scuffs her shoes – she’s already wearing shoes? – on the floor. “But– look, I’ll be back before you know it, okay? I promise.”
Stepping around Robin, Nancy reaches for the door handle, and it just sucks so much, Robin stumbles back into the door, uncoordinated and too drunk.
“Did I do something?” she asks, the question bitter in her mouth. “Or did anyone try something? I swear, I’ll–”
“No,” Nancy says, eyes soft. “No, nothing like that. I just have to go.”
“But why?”
“I wish I could tell you.”
“Nancy.”
“Robin.” Nancy looks at her, flickering her eyes between Robin’s. “Please step away from the door.”
“No.”
“Robin, I mean it–”
“Please, Nance,” Robin begs then. “I’m– the point of all this is that you’re here, and I don’t have to pretend to like anybody, and –”
“I’m sorry.” Nancy’s lips are pursed, eyes wide and apologetic.
“Please– don’t. I just– I really wanted–” you to be here. Robin swallows.
Behind her, Nancy inhales shakily. “I’ll... I can’t explain it, Ro. But I’ll apologise properly later. I’m sorry.”
Just as Nancy’s about to turn again, Robin asks, voice horribly wobbly, “Do you even like me?”
Nancy freezes. Turns again, eyes so big. “What?”
“I mean–” Robin’s not sure what she means. “I just mean– it’s my birthday, and–”
Robin cuts herself off. Turns around when she feels the tears pricking her eyes start to fall. She takes a shaky breath, swiping quickly at her eyes, glad that Nancy can’t see her face like this. You’re ruining your makeup, a voice in the back of her head says. She can’t remember when she started caring about shit like that.
“Ro.” Nancy’s voice is so soft she almost misses is.
“It’s fine,” Robin says quickly, holding herself still, squeezing her eyes shut. “Just go. It's fine.”
“Ro, I–”
The door flies open, and the music swells. Robin turns only to offer the drunk jock who’s stumbled inside a tight smile, before she pushes her way back into the crowd, leaving Nancy behind.
Thankfully, horribly, Nancy doesn’t follow her.
Robin decides then and there she’s getting so drunk tonight. It’s her birthday, after all. She can do whatever she wants.
The rest of the night is a blur. She does coconut and mango flavoured shots with a girl she thinks is called Jessica. She tackles Eddie onto the floor when he sneakily changes the music to some Metallica album (although it takes her ten minutes to notice). She knows they all went out at some point, probably for food, and came back in.
Now, the apartment is quiet. The music’s off, and she can’t hear more than a few people walking around from her spot on the couch, where she’s lying staring up at the ceiling, trying to keep the world from veering sideways unexpectedly.
She can’t focus on the words, but somewhere to her right Steve’s saying, “Are you sure? I can sleep over, if–”
“No, it’s fine. It’s fine, Steve. I’ve got her.”
“Have you?”
Silence.
"Steve," comes Nancy's hushed reply, finally. "I live here."
A stunned pause. "What? You-"
"I've lived here for half a year, and I'm sorry I didn't tell you, but I need you to leave now."
"Nance, what the hell are you talking about?"
"I'll explain tomorrow. Please just- please, Steve."
Silence again. Robin feels like she should be freaking out about something, but can't for the life of her figure out why.
Distantly, she hears the front door shut.
“Hey, guuuuys,” Robin sings out, because it shouldn’t be quiet, this is a party! “Let's do shots, or something.”
“Or something,” Nancy says, and oh, Nancy’s here, wrapping an arm around Robin. She smells so good– like a floral perfume, and- weirdly like wet cement. The thought doesn’t have time to form fully before it drifts away, and suddenly the world’s spinning again.
“I’m gonna vomit,” Robin says. “Or shit myself. Or both.”
Nancy lets out a startled laugh, though Robin can’t see what’s so funny, and steers her towards the bathroom.
Robin does throw up, after hitting the floor so hard her knees crack. Hanging her head in the toilet bowl, she thinks she can spot pieces of her breakfast floating around. She groans.
“Here,” Nancy’s soft voice comes from behind her. She helps Robin sit up, and wipes her mouth for her with a towel. Then, she brings a glass of water to her lips. Robin takes a sip, watching her through glassy eyes, unsure what she’s feeling, if anything.
“I want–” Robin says, then grimaces, head spinning. “I want to be alone.”
She can’t see Nancy’s reaction, because she’s closed her eyes. Decides she doesn’t care, either way.
“Okay,” Nancy says softly. “When you’re in bed, I’ll go.”
“I want to be alone now.”
“Yes, well– I don’t want you to get hurt, Ro.”
Robin laughs hoarsely. “Sure.”
“Robin…”
“Whatever. I don’t– I don’t even care.”
“Please don’t be difficult.”
“I’m not trying to be difficult!” She tries to wave her arms around, but they flop uselessly, making her frown. Suddenly, desperately, she wishes she was sober.
It’s only because Robin looks up just then that she catches it: the emotion flashes across Nancy’s face so fast she nearly misses it. But for a heartbeat, Nancy looks heartbroken. And then, she’s back to apprehensive.
“Okay,” Nancy says softly. “Can you stand?”
Robin nods, watching her with big, stupid eyes. She feels like a fucking idiot, letting Nancy haul her up, pour a lid full of mouthwash for her. Letting her dab a piece of cotton over her eyes, wiping away the makeup, the proof of tonight. And, lastly, letting her put her to bed, pulling the duvet over her, patting down the sides like Robin’s dad used to do when she was little.
“Goodnight, Ro,” Nancy says, suddenly so close, and Robin could reach up, could pull her in for a hug, but she doesn’t. Doesn’t even say anything back. Just lets Nancy place the glass of water on her bedside table and close the door behind her.
She’s so upset, when the dark suddenly swallows her room, that she can’t bring herself to cry. Instead, she turns right over, and closes her eyes.
She wakes up to the sound of a whistling siren blowing past her window. Welcome to New York.
She puts off getting up for nearly half an hour, before she decides going to the bathroom is maybe a smidge acute and that lying in bed, marinating in a thousand bad feelings about the night before, is kind of pathetic.
When she finally does pad into the kitchen, Nancy’s spot by the table is empty, along with her things. In the sink is a coffee mug, and nothing else. Fuck, is Nancy eating enough? Robin checks the fridge, see’s that everything’s as she left it yesterday, which means Nancy skipped breakfast. Fuck.
Robin flicks the coffee machine on angrily, pressing her palms to her eyes, trying to stave off a new flood of tears. Everything sucks, and she can’t do anything about it because Nancy’s not here, and Nancy skipped breakfast, probably because of Robin and–
Inhaling sharply, Robin straightens. Shakes her hands out, and grabs her coffee. She’s got assignments to work on. She’ll call Nancy if she doesn’t text by lunch.
As it goes, Robin falls asleep curled up on her bed, because she’s the worst, and also severely hungover. She wakes up with a start, when her computer suddenly whirs to life, and sits up. Her window tells her it’s got to be late afternoon, and she groans into her hands.
A muffled knock sounds at Robin’s door, and she doesn’t look up as she says, “Come in.”
Nancy enters, wringing her hands together nervously. She pads over and sits down on the edge of Robin's bed. They stare at each other then, neither of them saying a word, until finally-
“I’m not–” Nancy starts, eyebrows pinched together. “I’m not good at this. I’m– I’m sorry– Robin, I never want to hurt you. Yesterday was–”
“Really shitty.”
“Yes. Yeah. Yesterday was– so shit, and it’s my fault.” She meets Robin’s eyes. “I’m sorry. Let me make it up to you."
Robin looks away, not quite sure what she's feeling, but feeling a lot of it. She looks back at Nancy, at her big eyes, her downturned lips. "How?"
"Let-" Nancy hesitates. "Let me take you out? My treat. We can go wherever you want."
Robin thinks about it. Works on letting a shaky breath go. Quietly, she says, "Okay. Tonight?"
Nancy nods quickly. "Tonight."
Robin's about to smile, when Nancy suddenly groans.
"Shit. I forgot I have a meeting- can we do tomorrow? I'm so sorry."
Robin suddenly wishes Nancy hadn't asked her to dinner in the first place. "It's fine."
"Okay," Nancy says, softly. She reaches out as if to give Robin's hand a squeeze, but Robin moves it out of the way.
Visibly stung by the rejection, Nancy stands up, pursing her lips. Inhaling, clearly gathering herself, she says, “I told Steve today. About living here. I’m sorry I took so long to- I’m sorry. Sorry," she says one last time, before she goes, closing Robin's door on her way out. The second she has, Robin falls back into bed and buries her head in a pillow.
This sucks.
Robin wakes up at three AM, seemingly for no reason at all (which, what a waste. She’s got a seminar first thing in the morning). She tosses and turns for a minute, before she thinks maybe a cup of green tea will do the trick. So, yawning and rubbing her eyes, she pads into the kitchen and flips the kettle on.
She leans on the counter, as she listens to the kettle start to bubble. Robin wasn’t all that keen on tea back in Hawkins, but Eddie’s made her – in his words – quite the tea connoisseur. It’s nice, she thinks, picking up friends' habits. It’s like you get to carry a piece of them with you, something that will always remind you of them.
It’s safe to say she doesn’t expect it when the kitchen window suddenly slides open, and a real person jumps through it.
Screaming, Robin grabs for the nearest pan, holding it above her head, heart jackhammering in her chest.
“Don’t!” the figure shouts, holding up both hands. It’s too dark to see what the person’s wearing, except their suit’s got a hood, which, if Robin wasn’t currently trying not to piss her pants, she’d admit looks pretty badass.
Breathing hard, Robin just grips the pan tighter. “Who are you?” she asks, because hello, it’s not every day someone breaks in via her kitchen window (she’d banned Steve from doing so before he’d even tried). She squints. “What are you doing in my kitchen? What are you wearing?”
“I- what? I’m no one,” the figure says quickly.
Panting, Robin blows a strand of hair out of her eyes. “Oh, perfect, I’ll just let my roommate know no one just broke into our kitchen.” Robin spares Nancy’s bedroom a quick glance. God, she must be sleeping like a rock, to not have woken up from all the ruckus. Maybe she fell asleep wearing headphones?
The figure – person, whatever – sighs then, almost defeated. Under their breath, they mutter, “Sorry in advance.”
Robin tenses. Waits.
“I’m– promise not to get mad,” they say.
Robin thinks she might be getting hysterical. “I don’t even know who you are, you weirdo.”
In the tense silence that follows, the sound of the city outside swallows up the vacuum. They stare at each other, and Robin can’t help but feel as though she’s missing something that’s staring her right in the face.
White Suit reaches up with a steady hand, deft fingers finding the back of their mask, and– Robin knows all about the importance of maintaining a secret identity, it’s why she didn’t ask White Suit to remove their mask, which– why are they doing it unprovoked?
“Hey, you don’t–”
“I do.”
On a shaky breath that seems to echo through the room, White Suit pulls off their mask, revealing Nancy Wheeler, face flushed red, eyes wide and searching.
“Oh my God,” Robin says, voice faint and strained even to her own ears. “I’m friends with two spider-people. What is my life.”
“Robin?” Nancy’s eyes fly between Robin’s eyes. “You’re not mad?”
It’s so strange, seeing Nancy Wheeler stumble, unsure of herself.
“Not mad,” Robin says, and she finds that she means it. Then, “So confused, like, you have no idea, but. Not mad."
Nancy sighs shakily. "Okay," she says. "Okay."
They stare at each other, until Robin finally says, "Look, can we go to the living room? This is-"
"Yes. Yeah, the living room."
On their way, Robin flips the lights on, which feels weirdly against the rules, like she's supposed to be keeping Nancy's secret from herself, or something. She powers through it and sits down on the couch.
Head spinning, Robin hisses out a long breath. “Okay, so, how did you get all–?” She flaps her arms at her.
Nancy deliberates for a moment, then gives a little shrug. “Back in the Creel House, like Steve. I think. We were both bit by that spider he was messing with.”
“Wow. Hungry spider," Robin says faintly, and then it hits her. "Wait, you- what the fuck, you know about Steve? Does Steve know you know about Steve?”
Nancy purses her lips, clearly suppressing some of her amusement. “He's not exactly… subtle. And, um. No?”
Robin barks out a crazed laugh. “God, what is my life.”
Falteringly, Nancy scoots closer to Robin, her big, doe-like eyes scanning Robin’s face as if she’d ever find distrust there.
“So, this is–” Nancy starts, stopping an arm's length away. “This is okay?”
“I- Jesus, I mean- yes? Yes. But also, what the fuck.” She wonders if Nancy’s like Steve– if she can hear her heart beating wildly in her chest.
“Okay.” Nancy takes a small, relieved sigh. “Okay, good.”
And then, unbelievably, Robin watches Nancy flicker her eyes down to her mouth.
Because Robin is stupid first, a lesbian second, she stutters, “So, you're a superhero by night, journalist by day? Are you Clark Kent?”
“Robin.”
“What? I’m being so serious-”
"Can I kiss you?"
Robin freezes. Scans Nancy's beautiful face, her rosy cheeks, her big eyes, her full mouth. Faintly, because she must have misheard, she says, "What?"
"Can I kiss you, Ro?" Nancy asks again, voice warm, tone even. Like she's not afraid to ask. Or like asking's important enough to face the fear.
"Yeah," Robin breathes, eyes wide, heart thundering. "Yes. Please."
It's as if the room melts away, and suddenly all that matters is the girl in front of her. This firecracker of a human being, Nancy Wheeler, and her beautiful mind. Her beautiful heart. The walls Robin - against all odds - somehow clumsily broke through. It's so easy now to call it what it is: love.
Nancy breathes in softly before she presses her lips to Robin's, her closeness making Robin's head spin. She shudders a breath through her nose, arms coming up to frame her face, to hold her, touch her, know her.
For a moment, she thinks about Hawkins. Thinks about the time she took Nancy Wheeler's hand in the Upside Down, back to when it first struck her that pursuing a tentative friendship with this beautiful, brilliant girl wasn't completely outside of the realm of possibility. She thinks about the day they moved to New York. About the day Nancy showed up on Robin's doorstep with set shoulders and nervous, sad eyes, telling her only that she needed a place to stay, and that she'd broken up with Jonathan and no, she didn't want to talk about it.
Then Nancy snakes her hand around Robin's neck, and all thoughts lingering on the past evaporate. She pulls back, opening her mouth a little, tilting her head, and oh- this is what kissing's supposed to be like. A steady fire builds within Robin, a tug in her gut making it hard to breathe.
Panting, Robin pulls back. She rests her forehead against Nancy's, can't resist leaning in immediately to give her a quick peck. Nancy laughs, sweet and bright.
I couldn't love you more if I tried, Robin thinks hazily, watching the way Nancy's eyes glitter like she's made of light.
TWO WEEKS LATER
“Aaand done,” Nancy says, sighing as she shuts her laptop with an air of finality.
Robin looks up from her magazine. “You got it in?”
“Sure did.”
Robin cackles. “How did you work freaky into an article about out-of-date allergy pills?”
“I have my ways, Ro,” Nancy smiles. “You’ll just have to wait till Friday to see.”
Robin's about to whine that Friday is like, two whole days away, when the phone rings.
It's Nancy's phone, but she's tipped her head back, closed eyes aimed at the ceiling. She mumbles, "Can you check who it is?"
"Sure." Grabbing Nancy's phone off the coffee table, Robin pulls her legs up onto the couch. "You've reached the wisest Wheeler, can I take a message?"
"Miss Buckley, I assume," says a deep voice, full of amusement.
"Um," Robin falters. "How do you know that? Who is this?"
Nancy looks up, frowning.
"A colleague," says the voice.
"A colleague?"
"Yep. Not that this isn't a riveting conversation, Miss Buckley, but I'd like to talk to the wisest Wheeler now. She and I have business."
Bewildered, Robin passes the phone to Nancy. When she looks at her questioningly, Robin mouths, I have no idea.
Pressing the phone to her ear, Nancy frowns at first, but then goes wide-eyed and a little pale.
Robin pokes her in the arm.
"Yes," Nancy says into the phone, shooting Robin a look.
Robin pouts.
"I- obviously I know that-" Nancy's cheeks colour the way they do when she's been offended. "Wha- no, I don't operate under the jurisdiction of- hello? Are you even listening?"
"Who is it? Nancy, who is it?" Robin shuffles closer.
Holding the phone out of her reach, Nancy continues to scowl. "Please make your point, I'm about to drive into a tunnel."
Suddenly, Nancy's face relaxes, mouth making a little 'oh'. "A... a meeting? With you? The- Avengers? Seriously?"
And just like that, it clicks, and- holy shit, that means-
“Tony Stark!" Robin squeals. "Ask if I can come with, ask if I can-”
Nancy sends her a look, but Tony says on the other line just loud enough for her to hear, “Tell Miss Buckley she’s welcome to accompany you, but she will be supervised by yours truly.”
“Fine,” Nancy says, then seems to catch herself. “Um. Thank you, Mr. Stark.”
“No problem, kid. Be here at two. Hey, Legolas, I can hear you up there- no, stop kicking and get out of the vents you freaky acrobat-”
“Holy shit,” Robin says, excitement ringing clear in her voice. “Holy shit, Nance, Tony Stark totally just invited us to his stupid Tower!”
“Avengers Tower,” Nancy corrects automatically, equally as wide-eyed.
“We did not just talk to Tony Stark, aka Iron Man, aka Pepper fucking Potts’ ex-boyfriend,” Robin says, bewildered.
Nancy laughs, startled. She has the nicest laugh. It washes over Robin, coating her in a blanket of warmth. "You know, Ro," she says, eyes sparkling. "I think we did."
And just like that, New York City feels a whole lot bigger.