Archive of Our Own ^beta

It’s been suspiciously quiet around Hawkins for a while.

Nancy leans back in her chair, frowning at the papers in front of her. They’re patrol reports from the past few days, all of them showing near enough the same thing, which is… nothing. No creature sightings, no widening gates, no vines creeping somewhere they shouldn’t be. 

The gate sites are silent. Eddie and Dustin’s patrol from last night confirms this.

It should be a comfort. It should be a good thing that upside down activity has quietened down. Nearly a year on, other people’s lives have all but returned to normal, aided by propaganda from the government: No, residents of Hawkins, don’t mind the glowing red fissures in the ground, they’re just a side effect of the earthquake.

For those in the know, it’s anything but. Vecna isn’t dead—confirmed by both El and Will—and the gates are just… dormant. Not inactive; waiting. It sets her teeth on edge.

She flicks back through the patrol log, checking for the last report of activity. They’d started in late April when a demobat had burst out of one of the fissures and been dealt with during the process of helping the Hendersons move. Dustin had written her the first—unofficial—report, detailing the experience: when (April 27th, late evening); where (near the Hendersons’ house); how many creatures (one, a demobat); who was there (Steve, Robin, Dustin); and what happened (Steve had heard something, and they’d gone to investigate it when they’d been divebombed by the bat. Steve had had his nail bat from his trunk, and had promptly, in Dustin’s words, ‘beaten the everliving shit out of it’.

They’d met the following day, where Dustin had shown everyone the report, and Hopper had offered the idea of actual patrols, filling out reports afterwards, so they could keep an eye on any activity related to the upside down. Nancy had offered to keep a log of all the patrols for better tracking, and they’d agreed. (Well. They hadn’t disagreed. Mike had mumbled something about her needing a hobby, and she’d pretended that was approval. If nobody ever asks to see the report statistics, well, their loss.) 

Scheduling had been difficult to begin with—Steve and Robin had managed to reclaim their jobs at Family Video (Robin had mentioned something about nobody wanting to work, and money being money), and Hopper was trying to sort his paperwork regarding his death and subsequent resurrection, and the Byers (and Argyle) had had to return to California for a couple of weeks to wrap up any loose ends—but they’d made it work in the end, and every day since there’s been a duo on evening patrol.

The latest report containing an incident is dated November 14th, just over two months ago. Hopper and Jonathan had been on patrol when a vine had slowly started snaking out of the fissures. It had inched forward, barely leaving the glow, before it had suddenly snapped back, disappearing from sight. Like it was checking, Jonathan had written, and there hasn’t been anything since then.

Nancy taps her pen against her teeth, rereading the notes. If it had been checking for something, surely there’d have been something since? 

She lets out a frustrated huff. She’s read them so many times that she knows she’s not going to find something she’s missed. Whatever she’s expecting to find, she isn’t going to find it sitting alone in her room. Joyce and Murray are on patrol together tonight, and Joyce is always extra thorough in her notes; maybe there’ll be something there.

Her door opens out of nowhere, startling the living daylight out of her, and Mike barges into her room.

“Mike!” Nancy hisses, clutching her chest. “Haven’t you heard of knocking?”

He doesn’t reply, staring at her with a strange expression, and— Oh, god, someone’s been hurt, haven’t they? There’s been a demogorgon attack, or someone’s gone missing, or someone’s dead, or—

“We’re watching a horror tonight,” he blurts out, interrupting her stream of anxiety. She blinks at him, confused, and he tips his head to the side. “At Robin and Steve’s?”

“Oh,” she says lamely. It’s unclear whether we includes her or not. She’d found out last month that Mike had a separate movie night with Robin, Lucas and Max where they watched horror films, since their main group movie nights excluded anything scary. He had said she’d be welcome to come sometime, but he also lets her know whenever he’s leaving the house, so…

As if he can read her thoughts, he huffs, rolling his eyes. “You’re invited. I’m inviting you. If you want.” He pauses, squinting at her. “Unless— You don’t want to—?”

“No, no!” she interrupts quickly. “I’d love to come.” She sets the patrol log in her desk drawer, just in case their mom comes into her room for anything while they’re gone. 

Mike’s eyes have lit up, even though he tries to keep his expression carefully casual. “Cool,” he says, and shrugs for good measure. She has to bite her lip to hide her smile. “If you’re driving us, we can leave in an hour.”

She nods, turning her head to eye her wardrobe. “Sure. Shoo, then, so I can get changed.”

He wrinkles his nose. “What’s wrong with the outfit you’re wearing?”

“I just…” She shrugs, feeling oddly self-conscious. “I want to look nice around my friends, is that so bad?”

He stares at her for a moment, his expression unreadable, before he shakes his head and slopes out of her room, making a comment under his breath that sounds suspiciously like “girls”.

Figuring out what to wear proves harder than expected. She’s been going through her wardrobe for over half an hour, panicking more and more the closer the clock ticks to 9pm. Nothing looks right. Too girly, or too prissy, or too much like she’s trying too hard.

Reasonably, she knows they won’t care what she wears, but she cares. Max and Lucas might be too wrapped up in bickering with Mike to really pay attention beyond acknowledging that she’s present at all, but Robin’s— Robin’s her friend, her actual, genuine friend, not in the kind of guardian role they have over the younger teens, and—

She bites her lip. It’s stupid, really, but— Robin always looks so nice, no matter what she wears. She has a way of styling her clothes in such a manner that it looks effortless but good. Robin had even looked pretty in her Scoops Ahoy uniform, which privately Nancy had always thought looked ridiculous on anyone else. She wants to show Robin that she can style her clothes well, too. It’s what girls do, right? Dress up to impress each other, compliment each other’s outfits… she misses that, and that’s why she’s fretting. 

It doesn’t have to be this hard. Just… grab some clothes, and put them on. It’s different when it had been school, or when they’re preparing to patrol and need clothing that allows them to easily get around. 

You’re being ridiculous, she tells herself firmly, staring at the clothes now scattered about her room. You’ll be sitting in the dark, anyway.

Determined not to waste any more time, she grabs a navy sweater, tugging it on over the t-shirt she’s currently wearing, and changes into a nicer pair of jeans. She lets her hair hang loose, putting on her ballet shoes necklace. 

She studies herself in the mirror, deciding, then tucks the ballet shoes beneath her sweater. She doesn’t wear it much anymore—it feels childish even to consider it most days—but it does still provide her a small sense of comfort, even now. She looks back at her reflection, pushing her hair from her face, then letting it frame her face again, the friendship bracelet Robin had given her for Christmas sitting on her wrist.

Distantly, she hears a distant shout of “Nancy!” and looks at the clock to see it’s almost nine.

“Coming!” she shouts, grabbing her car keys. Mike’s out the front door as soon as she reaches the bottom of the stairs, and with a promise of calling their mom if they’re going to be late, Nancy heads out after him.

Mike’s already tugging his door handle when she gets to the car. He all but falls into the car once she unlocks it, reaching for the radio as soon as she starts the car up.

She lightly smacks his hand away, adjusting the volume, and Mike squints at her as her tape starts playing. 

“Since when do you listen to Metallica?”  

“I’ll have you know they have good songs,” she says defensively.

Mike looks at her doubtfully. “I know that. Why do you know that?”

“You’re not the only one who hangs out with Eddie, you know.” She nudges him. “He made me a mixtape after finding out Jonathan’s recommendations had been all The Smiths and The Clash and Talking Heads. Apparently, Robin and Steve aren’t to be trusted with music recommendations, either, and he wanted to get in there first.”

That seems to placate him. “Dustin said he heard Eddie listening to Duran Duran the other day.”

“That doesn’t sound like him.” It does, however, sound like Steve, which is interesting. It hasn’t escaped her notice that Steve and Eddie have been spending a lot of time together lately, nor how Eddie stares after Steve longingly whenever he leaves. 

“I know!” Mike throws his hands up. “I told him there was no way and he insisted that he has working ears and made some smartass comment about denial and Egyptian rivers.”

“Sounds like Dustin.” 

He hums in answer. They fall into a comfortable silence, the music filling the quiet. Nancy glances at him out of the corner of her eye to see him nodding his head along to the music, staring out of the window. He’s started dressing more and more like Eddie these days, she’s noticed, growing his hair out longer and donning darker clothing. He’s bought himself a leather jacket with his Christmas money and he’s wearing it tonight, his hair tied back in a loose bun. 

It’s hard to believe he’ll be sixteen in a few months. Her heart contorts at the thought, and she tightens her grip on the steering wheel. When did her baby brother start growing up?

Mike sits up straighter, craning his neck, and she realises they’ve almost reached the Harrington house.

As she pulls up, she can feel Mike’s impatience radiating off him. The moment she parks, he’s out of the car like a rocket, not even waiting for her to stop the engine.

“C’mon, Nance,” he whines, watching as she double checks she has everything and then checks her hair in the mirror.

“Alright, alright, I’m coming.” Her hair will have to do. She gets out of the car, just about managing to lock it before Mike starts steering her towards the house.

“Steve’s out for the evening,” Mike tells her, approaching the door. “He’s at Eddie’s ‘cause he can’t handle his horror.”

“Eddie’s not a horror fan? Seems up his street.”

Mike snorts. “I think Eddie’s, unfortunately, a Steve fan.”

Nancy laughs quietly. “That may be true.”

She reaches out a hand to knock on the door, but before she can do so Mike blocks her path, eyeing her.

“You’re going to, like… be cool, right?” His tone is suspicious, as if he’s expecting her to distinctly be uncool. “You’re not going to be embarrassing?”

Nancy rolls her eyes, stepping past him to knock on the door. “Yes, Mike, I can be cool.”

She’s oddly nervous, though she’s not sure why. It’s not like she hasn’t been to a movie night before. Maybe it’s because she hasn’t been to this specific movie arrangement.

She checks her outfit again, fiddling with her necklace under her sweater for comfort, waiting. They’ve only been waiting a minute or so, but time seems to endlessly stretch out ahead of her. Maybe she’s made a mistake, agreeing to this. Maybe they’re only expecting Mike and they’ll be on edge with her here. Maybe Mike only invited her because he felt sorry for her. Maybe—

The door opens and her mouth dries.

Maybe she can’t be cool.

Robin stands in front of them, haloed by the light of the hallway. Her hair is tied up into a small updo, revealing the back of her neck, and she’s wearing a dark green sweater a couple of sizes too big. Nancy’s eyes keep travelling, taking in Robin’s dark jeans, the rings adorning her fingers, and her doodled-on red converse. Effortlessly cool, as always.

Her hair looks good. She’s not sure she’s ever seen Robin put it up before. It lets her earrings show, two in her earlobes and— when did she get her helix pierced? Why does she suddenly feel so tongue-tied?

Robin’s eyes are on her, she realises abruptly, and Robin seems to swallow hard before slightly shaking her head, her face breaking into a wide smile.

“Nance! Didn’t think I’d be seeing you tonight.” There’s a warmth in her voice that makes Nancy shiver. Robin turns to Mike, wiggling her fingers at him, and clears her throat. “Hey, Mike. Love the hair.”

Mike flushes slightly, hunching his shoulders. “Um, thanks, Robin. I, uh, I like your hair, too.”

“You both here for the movie?” Robin cringes, wrinkling her nose. “I mean, obviously Mike’s here for the movie, duh, but are you staying too, Nance? God, that came out way too judgemental, I’d—we’d—love to have you, but of course, you don’t have to stay—”

Nancy’s smile grows as Robin rambles. Mike rolls his eyes, a slight smile on his lips, and walks into the house behind her. 

“Robin,” Nancy says gently, interrupting her. “I’d love to stay, if that’s alright?”

Robin nods. “Of course, yeah, you’re welcome anytime.” She ushers her inside, closing and locking the door, then spins on her heel and starts striding towards the kitchen. 

Nancy follows after her, trying hard not to stare at the nape of her neck. There’s a splash of freckles there, usually hidden by her hair, and she can’t take her eyes off them. It’s as though she’s always finding more freckles on her. She’d love to take the time to map them all out, see if she can form constellations. Find out just how many there are.

Vickie probably knew, her brain whispers, and she blinks at her own thought. Vickie and Robin broke up months ago, all the way back in the fall.

Maybe Vickie did know, though. Maybe they’d lie in bed and Vickie would trail her lips along Robin’s freckles. Maybe Robin has freckles in places she’ll never see, that only Vickie and whoever else is lucky enough to touch her will know about.

She’s too warm, suddenly. Robin’s saying something about Max and Lucas being in the den and popcorn, and then she catches sight of Nancy and her expression turns concerned.

“You okay, Nance? You’re looking a little hot.” Robin startles, stammering, “I mean warm! You’re looking warm.”

“Yeah,” Nancy says quickly, feeling her face heat up even more. She pulls her sweater off, folding it over her arm. “Sweater’s too thick, you know how it is.”

She tries to laugh, but it comes out nervous. Mike, next to Robin, makes a pained expression.

“Right, right,” Robin says, nodding again, turning back to the popcorn she’s making on the stove. 

Nancy cringes, burying her face in her hands. What is wrong with her tonight? 

Mike, in comparison, seems to be making himself right at home. He’s kicked his shoes off, revealing odd socks, and he’s busying himself going through the fridge, filling his arms with cans of soda.

She’s about to tell him off—he didn’t even ask—when Robin says, “Grab me a Dr Pepper, please?”

“Already have,” Mike replies, and glances at Nancy. “Nance, what would you like?”

“Oh, uh…” She pauses, eyeing the drinks. Mike’s holding four cans so far: one Coke, one New Coke, and two Dr Peppers. “I don’t mind having water, it’s no bother.”

“Please, we keep the soda stocked for these gremlins.” Robin waves a hand at her dismissively. “Have whatever you want.”

Mike looks at her expectantly.

“Uh, dealer’s choice?”

“Sure.” Mike grabs another can of Dr Pepper, and Robin nods in approval.

“Good choice,” Robin says, smiling, and something in Nancy’s chest flutters.

“Thanks,” she manages to get out, and Mike furrows his brow.

“It wasn’t even your choice,” he says. She turns pink, but Robin just laughs, not unkindly.

Mike rolls his eyes at Nancy, muttering something she doesn’t catch, and carefully starts for the stairs.

“Be careful!” Nancy calls at his retreating back, getting a quiet grumble in response.

“You can head down too, if you like,” Robin says, opening a cupboard above her and grabbing two large bowls. “I won’t be long.”

“I’d rather keep you company.” Nancy leans back against the counter, watching Robin as she moves the pan off the stove, uncovering it, and starts tipping it into two bowls. The smell of buttery popcorn fills the air, making her mouth water.

While Robin’s setting the pan down, she steals a piece of popcorn from the nearest bowl, finding it pleasantly warm on her tongue.

“Thief,” Robin says, not even turning her head. Nancy splutters and only then does Robin turn, grinning at her. “I’ve told you before, my ears are little geniuses.”

Before Nancy can say anything else, Robin picks up the two bowls, brushing against her as she does, and heads towards the den. Nancy shivers and quickly follows after her.

Down in the den, Mike, Lucas and Max are crammed onto one sofa, bickering. Lucas is in the middle, loudly defending his can of New Coke as Max and Mike sandwich him, both complaining and fake-retching.

“Leave Lucas’ bad taste alone, it’s Alien time,” Robin says, stepping over their legs and passing Mike the bowl of popcorn. 

Nancy’s pretty sure she hears Lucas mutter something about Robin liking Dr Pepper, but Robin ignores it, digging through a collection of tapes neatly organised next to the TV. Nancy spies a couple of familiar titles—Halloween, Star Wars, Carrie and Grease—before Robin makes a triumphant noise, pulling Alien out.

“I can’t believe none of you have seen it before,” she comments, slotting the tape into the player. “Who raised you?”

“Loving parents,” Lucas teases, causing Robin to mime getting shot, clutching her heart and dropping to the floor.

“And yet they raised a New Coke enjoyer,” Mike snipes, and Robin raises a hand up to him for him to high five, and even though he has to lean down to reach her he does.

“Erica’s seen Alien,” Max adds, “so your point is moot.”

“Your point is moot,” Lucas repeats in a high voice. “Who says moot?”

“I do!”

“You’re going around mooting all over the place?”

“I’ll moot you in a minute.”

“Is every horror night like this?” Nancy asks Robin, who’s pushing herself upwards onto the second couch with some difficulty.

“Pretty much,” Robin replies, then raises her voice, “Hey! Alien time, shut up.”

“Yeah, Max, stop mooting,” Mike says, and Max grabs her crutch that’s leaning against the arm of the sofa and jabs him.

“Ellen Ripley is, like, an icon,” Robin says, as if nothing had happened. “Paved the way for women everywhere.”

“You just think she’s hot,” Mike says, and Nancy’s head whips to look at him, then at Robin. She’s expecting Robin to look worried, or scared, but she’s just squinting at Mike.

“When did I come out to you?”

“You didn’t, but— Am I not meant to know?” He shakes his head, raising an eyebrow. “No offence, Robin, but you’re hardly going to be the only heterosexual in your group. Jonathan and Argyle are literally dating.” He snorts. “I’m not Dustin.”

“And thank god for that.” Robin leans over, ruffling Mike’s hair. He swats at her hand, combing his hair back with his finger, but Nancy spies the shine in his eyes, the pleased smile he’s trying to keep contained.

It dawns on her, suddenly, that Mike is trying to get Robin’s approval. She’s seen it before, mainly when they were younger and he was desperate for her attention, wanting his big sister to validate him. It’s not quite the same, but the slight flush to his face, the way she can tell he’s secretly pleased— she finds herself trying to hide her own smile.

Mike’s happy here. She knows that he has good friends, and she knows he secretly looks up to her own little party of Eddie, Steve, Robin, Jonathan and Argyle, but she’s never really paid attention to see how he acts around them.

Mike likes Robin. She’s overwhelmed with an odd sense of relief, though she’s not sure why she’s relieved. Maybe it’s the knowledge that Mike can be wholly himself around people without fear of rejection. Maybe she’s just happy to see someone else appreciate him, too.

“Alright, I’m starting the film,” Robin announces, aiming the remote. “Sigourney Weaver is calling me.”

“You wish she was calling you,” Max says, and immediately gets hit in the face with a piece of popcorn Robin fires at her.

“Only calls Robin’s getting are at Family Video,” Mike adds, grinning, and Robin fires a piece at him, too. He’s prepared, though, and catches it in his mouth, looking smug. In answer, she throws a handful at him, and he yelps as they pelt him. Two pieces hit Lucas, who goes Hey! and causes Max to throw a handful of popcorn at Robin in his honour. 

It’s Robin’s turn to yelp, trying to use a cushion as a shield, and somehow this devolves into all three of the other couch occupants taking it in turns to lob popcorn at her, all of them laughing.

“Alright!” Nancy interrupts, laughing, before the situation can evolve into a full-scale food fight. Max is unsubtly eyeing up her unopened can and she does not want to see where that leads. “Are we watching the movie or are we picking on Robin?”

“We can do both,” Max points out, but she settles back against the couch anyway.

“Thanks,” Robin whispers, gingerly putting the cushion down, and Nancy bites back another laugh at the pieces of popcorn caught in her hair.

“C’mere.” She reaches over, carefully untangling them from her hair. She regrets it only slightly when she realises she’s pulled some of Robin’s hair free from her hair tie, giving her more of a dishevelled look, and there’s a brief second where Nancy freezes, unable to place exactly why she’s gone still, before her brain finally seems to restart and let her be a normal person again.

Jesus. She really needs to get out of her house more if she can’t even be normal around her friends anymore.

The film starts, and as Mike stretches over to hit the light switch, Robin leans closer to her. For one absurd moment, she thinks Robin’s going to kiss her, her heart rate beginning to pick up, but she’s just leaning towards her ear.

“You can hold my hand if you get scared,” Robin whispers, a teasing grin on her face.

“I’ve been given strict instructions not to embarrass Mike,” Nancy murmurs, silently thanking god that the main light’s off so Robin can’t see her tinting pink. “He said Steve’s bad enough.”

“He had his face in her lap,” Mike says loudly, looking disgusted.

“No shame in being scared, Mike,” Robin says, right as Nancy hisses “Stop eavesdropping.”

A single piece of popcorn hits Nancy’s nose. Mike suddenly becomes extremely interested in the opening credits.

Nancy’s contemplating whether or not it would be childish to dump the bowl of popcorn on his head when Robin shifts in her seat, her leg resting against Nancy’s, and Nancy decides that enacting revenge can wait.

As the film plays, Nancy finds herself engrossed in it. Robin’s watching the screen intently, shifting to get more comfortable, and Nancy shifts, too.

She barely notices that she’s edging closer and closer to Robin. It’s not exactly cold with the heating on, but Nancy always runs cold no matter the weather, and she left her sweater upstairs, and Robin’s radiating warmth.

They’re pressed thigh-to-thigh when Robin tilts her head to look at her, making Nancy suddenly very aware of how close they are. Embarrassed, she straightens up, but Robin just smiles at her and grabs a throw blanket that she hadn’t noticed.

“You’re not subtle about stealing my heat, Nance,” Robin whispers.

“Stop being a human radiator and I’ll stop doing it,” Nancy whispers back, smiling at her.

“Favouritism,” Max calls. “This is blatant favouritism. Where’s our blanket?”

“It’s not even cold!” Robin protests, but tosses a second blanket in the trio’s direction.

Mike loudly shushes them, eyes locked on the screen, and they fall back into quiet. Nancy pulls the blanket around herself, snuggling into it, relaxing against Robin’s side and letting the film pull her back in.

For a horror film, it’s actually not too scary. Mike jumps when the alien bursts out of someone’s chest, only to try and pretend it was a silent sneeze, and that alone makes it less scary. 

That is, until there’s a jumpscare where the alien shows up behind another character unexpectedly, and she jumps out of her skin. She clutches at Robin’s shoulder automatically, and Robin wordlessly takes her hand, letting her lock their fingers in a death grip. 

“Okay?” Robin whispers, glancing at her, and Nancy nods, her heart still racing. There’s a light squeeze of her hand, Robin’s rings cool against her fingers, and Nancy gives her a grateful smile, tucking herself closer to her. She glances over at the trio on the other couch to see them squashed up together, staring at the screen. Mike’s gripping Lucas’ hand tightly, his face all but pressed into his shoulder, and Max is gripping Lucas’ other hand just as tightly.

Nancy grins at the sight of them clinging to one another, only to immediately realise that she’s clutching Robin’s hand with an equally tight ferocity. She quickly shifts her gaze, turning her attention back to the movie.

The film continues, and the alien keeps whittling down the crew’s number. The characters react to yet another loss, struggling to arm themselves, and Nancy’s throat tightens. The room is dark, just like the ship in the movie, too dark, too many shadows. She blinks, and the alien isn’t an alien, it’s a demogorgon, and it’s here, it’s coming. It’s coming back, back to this house, she shouldn’t have come here, she shouldn’t have come when Barb died here, the demogorgon was here, and now it’s coming back and the bodies are piling up and it’s lurking in the shadows, biding its time, waiting to get Mike, or Robin, or, or—

“Hey.” She jumps, pulled from her thoughts, to find Robin looking at her, gentle concern on her face. She blinks, and she’s clutching her ballet necklace in between her fingers, her other hand digging her fingernails into the tender flesh of Robin’s hand.

“Sorry,” she whispers, loosening her grip and wincing when she sees the tiny half-moons left behind. Robin shakes her head.

“It’s okay,” she murmurs. “Are you alright?”

She gets why they do horror night separate from the group’s movie night, now. It’s not real, but it’s too real. Too close to home. She lets out a shallow breath, then gives Robin a slight smile. 

“I’m alright.” She squeezes Robin’s hand for good measure. Robin nods, satisfied, and turns her attention back to the screen. 

Nancy turns her head back, too, but keeps her eyes on her. Her face is partially lit by the screen, illuminating her in the low grey light. 

This is Robin’s house, she reminds herself, watching the rise and fall of Robin’s chest, breathing with her. Robin and Steve’s house, as safe as it always is, with the gates lying dormant and no sign of democreatures in months. Robin is relaxed, breathing steadily, and that’s enough for her breathing to slowly return to normal, too.

Nancy tears her gaze away, blinking back at the screen. It pulls her in again, and she finds herself sighing in relief when Ripley gets her cat to safety. It’s just Ripley and her cat now, the last survivors and it seems safe, but… 

She glances at Robin, who is still watching contentedly, which is proof enough that it’s not quite the end. Robin gets wriggly towards the end of films, anticipating the ending, and she hasn’t moved a muscle yet. Idly, she wonders whether Robin’s aware of this tell herself, or whether it’s something that’s gone unnoticed. Steve will have noticed, for sure. Maybe he thinks it’s endearing, too.

Ripley, on-screen, strips down to her underwear, and Nancy blinks, temporarily distracted, because— Well.

Robin snorts, and she startles, thinking she’s caught, only to turn and see her looking at the other three. She follows her gaze to see all three of them gawking at the screen, still with their hands locked together. Max’s mouth is hanging open as she stares unabashedly at the screen, and Mike’s paused with a piece of popcorn halfway to his mouth. Lucas’s eyes are wide, fixed on Ripley, and Nancy has to hold in her own laugh.

“Animals, the lot of them,” Robin whispers to her, trying—and failing—to keep a straight face. “No respect.”

Then she turns her head to look at Nancy properly and snorts again. Nancy blushes, knowing this time she’s clocked her.

“Nancy Wheeler.” Robin shakes her head, grinning. “For shame.”

“You were the one that said she looks hot!” she whispers back.

“I did not, I said she paved the way for women everywhere. Mike said I think she’s hot.” Robin leans in closer to her, whispering closer to her ear. Her breath ghosts her cheek as Robin continues, “She does look hot, though. Sigourney Weaver was my lesbian awakening. This film specifically, too, but not this scene.”

“No?”

“Nah, something about seeing a competent woman running around and taking no shit got to me well before this.” Robin pauses, and Nancy very slightly turns her head to see Robin grinning. “Then this scene happened and little twelve-year-old me nearly had an aneurysm.”

Nancy laughs softly, pulling the blanket closer. “That your type, then? Competent women who take no shit?”

Robin looks back at her, raising an eyebrow. “Asking for a friend?”

She opens her mouth to respond, lips already forming a teasing smile, but she’s interrupted by the alien being revealed to be on board the shuttle and subsequently her soul leaving her body as jumps. As if synced, Max, Lucas and Mike all jump, too. A quick glance at Robin, who didn’t even twitch, reveals her trying to fight back a smile.

As Ripley fights to survive, the trio start shouting at the TV, sounding genuinely stressed as they call for Ripley to win. Nancy can’t even laugh, her eyes not leaving the screen as she watches the film, realising too late that she is incredibly attached to this fictional woman and her cat.

Lucas is gasping, Mike is insisting that Robin would’ve warned them if Ripley died— Right, Robin? You’d have said if she dies? Robin? —and Robin’s sitting there giggling to herself, looking extremely pleased at their various degrees of stress.

Ripley finally, finally gets rid of the alien, and Robin bursts out laughing as the younger three start yelling even louder at her. Mike punts a cushion at her head, and then a second one that Max throws smacks her in the face, and all Nancy’s registering is Robin’s muffled giggling. It’s so joyful, carefree in a way that Robin usually isn’t, and she wants to hear it all the time.

“This is Ripley, last survivor of the Nostromo, signing off.” On-screen, Ripley looks at her cat and smiles. “Come on, cat.”  

The credits roll, Robin still snickering to herself, and Nancy abruptly realises that she’s still squeezing the life out of Robin’s hand. She instantly relaxes her grip, flushing red, but Robin just smiles at her, flushed with laughter. Her hair’s all ruffled, even more dishevelled than earlier, and for just a moment Nancy can’t tear her gaze away.

She’s in her element here, Nancy thinks. It’s so rare that she sees Robin get to sit back and actually enjoy herself, particularly when Steve isn’t around. Seeing Robin work at Family Video isn’t the same; yes, she gets to talk about movies, but it’s times like this, here and now, where Robin really shines.

She’s startled back to herself by the light being flicked on. Lucas is helping Max up, gathering her crutches, and Mike is nodding eagerly at whatever Robin’s saying to him, his eyes practically sparkling. Robin looks just as absorbed in their conversation, practically beaming at him, and Nancy—

Nancy feels fond. 

The conversations carry out of the room as the four of them head upstairs—they’ve moved on to talking about cats, something about Mews and demodogs and a particularly bad pun from Lucas about Steve needing to name a cat Farrah Paw cett which results in loud groaning—and it dawns on Nancy just how late it is.

“Mike?” Mike turns to her, mid-conversation. She looks at him regretfully. “We should be getting home.”

“Aw, what?” Mike stops halfway up the stairs, looking crestfallen. He glances back at Robin, looking so sorely disappointed that Nancy feels her heart twist.

Robin looks back at him, then turns to her. “You can stay the night, if you’d like. Max and Lucas are.”

Mike whips around to look back at her, looking hopeful all over again. And really— it’s not often that she gets to see Mike looking hopeful, or relaxed, or happy, so it’s not even close to a hard decision.

Just in case, she says, “It won’t be an inconvenience?”, and Robin makes a pffft noise, pointing out that they have, like, a billion bedrooms.

As they emerge from the den, Lucas, to Nancy’s surprise, hoists Max up, causing her to squeal and turn bright red, Mike collecting her crutches and looking entirely unfazed.

“Don’t drop her, she has a good lawyer,” Robin calls over her shoulder, already up the top of the stairs. “I’m not being held responsible.”

“Yeah, Max is the one being held,” Mike says, resulting in a snort from Robin, a loud groan from Max and a very offended look from Lucas, who mouths hypocrite.

Nancy hangs back as the rest of them head upstairs, punching her mom’s number into the phone in the hallway. Their phone call is brief—just Nancy telling her that she and Mike are staying over Robin’s and that they’ll be back tomorrow, and her mom saying to give Robin her love—and then she goes up after them. 

They’re all crowded in one of the bedrooms, Robin tossing pillows and blankets onto a king-sized bed while the other three bicker. Or, rather, Mike and Max bicker, and Lucas watches with amusement.

“It’s an instinctive response to Mike’s presence!” Max is saying, gesturing at him. “My body automatically goes into defensive measures, I can’t sleep next to him.”

“Yeah, well, you snore so loudly I don’t want to sleep next to you, for fear of my eardrums bursting,” Mike retorts, and gets immediately jabbed by a crutch he’d made the mistake of leaving within her reach.

”What’s happening here?” Nancy asks, amused.

Robin lets out a long-suffering sigh. “Apparently, warfare.”

Nancy turns to the argument—which has now moved onto Mike having foul-smelling feet, and Lucas being a kicker, so face-to-feet is out of the question—and then back to Robin, who is patiently making up the bed as they argue.

It gets decided eventually, with Lucas deciding to take the middle, Mike by the wall and Max on his other side, and the two boys slope off to get changed. 

“Feel free to grab whatever from my wardrobe,” Robin says, glancing back at Nancy. “I promise I’ll walk into the room backwards with my eyes closed.”

Nancy bites her lip to hide a smile. “How chivalrous.”

“You know me, knight in shining armour.” Max snorts, and Robin, who had started plaiting her hair, stops, looking mock-offended. “Something to say, Mayfield? You don’t think I could be a knight?”

“I think you’re the damsel in distress,” Max says, grinning. “If anyone’s the knight, it’s Nancy.”

“I’ll allow that only because it’s Nancy.”

Nancy laughs. “My lady,” she says, mock-curtsying as she leaves the room. 

Robin’s bedroom isn’t too far, just at the end of the hallway; it shares a wall with Steve’s. Secretly, it’s one of her favourites out of all the rooms she’s been in. It always smells faintly of lavender and something else she can’t identify, something distinctly Robin. It’s also filled with things. The walls are almost completely covered, ugly plaid wallpaper hidden by posters, photos and drawings she’s pretty sure are from Will and El. Every space is filled by something, whether it’s books that she knows are annotated with Robin’s thoughts, various tapes of music and language, or trinkets.

It’s cluttered, but not in a messy way. Everything has its space; it feels lived-in, much nicer than the sparse room it had been before Robin had come to live with Steve. 

Nancy heads to the closet, tracing her finger down one of the photo strips tacked to the door. It’s one of the two of them with Steve and Eddie, crammed into the both, all laughing throughout as they try to pose without knocking each other out. In the last one, they’re all blurry, Eddie half out of the frame. 

(Steve had tried to move around to squish Robin’s cheeks together and had instead knocked everyone about, causing Nancy to fall into Robin’s lap, Robin to bang her head into Steve’s, and Steve to fall and push Eddie almost out of sight. They’d all laughed so hard they’d cried, and then the next morning Steve had cried for real when he’d realised Robin had a resulting bruise on her forehead. It’s still a memory that makes her laugh to think about.)

Robin’s closet somehow contains just as much of Steve’s clothes as her own, a few items of Eddie’s, and a jacket Nancy could swear was originally Jonathan’s, but it doesn’t take her too long to find appropriate clothing to change into, settling on an oversized t-shirt—which is oversized on Robin, so dwarfs her completely—and pajama bottoms. 

She’s just brushing her teeth in the bathroom when Robin pads past her, yawning.

“Tired?” Nancy calls, smiling, and Robin startles, spinning to face her.

“Some of us are old, Nance,” she jokes, running a hand through her hair. “Also, I may have just assaulted your brother with a pillow, and I would apologise but honestly it was a really, really great shot, like, square in the face, so I’m actually not sorry at all. I’m very impressed with myself.”

“One, you are quite literally younger than me,” Nancy points out. She leaves the bathroom, knocking the light off behind her. “Two, I imagine he deserved it.”

“You’re meant to defend my honour!” Mike yells distantly.

“Quit eavesdropping!” she shouts back, and then grabs Robin’s wrist and pulls her into her room before it can break into another round of bickering.

Nancy sinks down onto the bed, watching as Robin pulls her sweater off, exposing a white vest top underneath. She’s not wearing a bra, she realises, and quickly rolls to the side so Robin can get changed in peace.

Moments later, the light turns off and Robin clambers into bed beside her, wobbling awkwardly as she steps over her.

“You could’ve asked me to move,” Nancy says, amused, Robin burrowing under the duvet as she finally finds space.

“You prefer the edge of the bed,” Robin says sleepily. She stretches out, Nancy just about being able to make out her outline in the dark. They’ve always slept this way, Robin by the wall, Nancy on the edge, but she’d assumed it was always coincidental— she hadn’t realised Robin had picked up on her fear of being unable to get up in time.

Her face heats up. Robin keeps seeing her. Most people don’t even seem to look past the image she tries so hard to project, but Robin always looks, and Robin always sees her. She sees her in ways Nancy’s never realised were visible.

She… likes it, she thinks. The intimacy of being known, and knowing someone. Does she know Robin? She thinks she knows Robin. She knows that Robin twists her rings around her fingers when she’s nervous, that she breaks eye contact when she isn’t being entirely truthful, that she yelps when she’s startled. She knows that she loves orange juice but hates apple juice, that she can pick up languages amazingly quickly, that she can sing but won’t around other people for fear of her voice cracking. She knows that Robin has frequent nightmares, that she’s terrified of losing Steve more than anyone, that she cried and cried and cried after finding out both Eddie and Max were in comas last year.

Are there any parts of Robin she doesn’t know? There must be. Parts that Steve knows, but that’s only natural. Parts that… parts that Vickie knows, maybe.

The thought makes her feel a little ill, but she likes Vickie, so she’s not sure why. Maybe it’s the principle. Like, after a break-up, you retain the smallest amount of ill will towards your friend’s ex, even if they’re on good terms, right?

(Though that didn’t happen with Jonathan and Steve. That’s different, though. This is different, definitely. It’s just… girl things.)

Robin rolls over to face her, yawning again, and the faint smell of mint from her toothpaste mixes with the scent of lavender. Apparently unaware of being the conductor of the train of thought steaming through Nancy’s brain, she says, “Ripley would beat the shit out of a demogorgon.”

It’s so out of nowhere that Nancy barks out a laugh. Barks, like she’s some kind of sea lion. Or a goose trying very hard to be a sea lion. Or a clown with a sore throat. Fuck, wait, it’s clown noses that honk, not clowns. A clown with a blocked nose… doing an impression of a sea lion. Better.

Maybe she needs to go to the hospital. Maybe there’s an incredibly rare subset of people who become complete idiots after watching scary films and she’s one of them. Maybe she’s the first and they’ll name a disease after her. Acute Wheeleriosis. It’s incurable. And terminal. Incredibly terminal. She might die in this very bed.

She needs to say something. Something eloquent, like how well Ripley would fare in the upside down, so Robin knows she’s listening and paying attention.

“Yerp.”

WHAT IS WRONG WITH HER.

“I mean,” she says quickly, even as her cheeks start burning, “Ripley already figured out the— the fire thing, you know? So she’d be set against a demogorgon.”

“Huh,” Robin says. Her eyes have closed. “Yeah, that too.”

“What were you thinking?”

“She’s a lot like you.”

“Yeah?” Robin makes a soft mmm sound in answer, so she tries again. “How?”

“Hair,” Robin mumbles, snuggling under the duvet. She sounds like she’s seconds from falling asleep. “‘S the same hair. Badass. Good with weapons.” She lets out a sleepy sigh, sinking further into her pillows. “Pretty.”

Nancy’s heart flutters in her chest. “You think I’m pretty?” she whispers, and Robin doesn’t respond. “Robin?”

She gets only the sound of slow breathing in response. Robin’s out like a light.

Nancy rolls back onto her back, her cheeks warm. It doesn’t mean anything, she knows—if anything, it’s a pretty standard compliment to pay a friend—but she just…

Listen, her worldview’s shifted a bit since she figured out she’s a lesbian. Sometimes a pretty girl calls you pretty and you get flustered, even if you’re friends. Like, she knows she’s pretty, not in a vain way but in a way of just acknowledging it; Steve had always called her beautiful, and Jonathan had always said she was gorgeous.

Robin’s simply pretty lands far more effectively, even if she knows it’s platonic. She’s heard Robin call Steve pretty more times than she can count. 

She’s overthinking it. Robin’s pretty, and it’s a compliment for Robin to think she’s pretty, and she’s tired and sleepy and her brain is all soupy and Vickie knows about freckles Nancy’s never going to see.

Acute Wheeleriosis. She’s coining it. 

Nancy jolts awake to movement. There’s something on the bed, something coming for them, some creature crawling towards them. 

She barely suppresses her scream, kicking out with all her strength, her mind already racing. A minute to drag Robin from the room, another minute to get the others up, another minute to get to the door—

“Owww,” comes a sad, distantly-human wail.

Nancy focuses, still bleary-eyed with sleep. “Steve?”

“Nance?” Steve’s voice is confused, thick with sleep. He stops, patting the bed as if trying to figure out where he is, then squints at her. “Whaddaya doin’ in Rob’s room?”

“What are you doing in Robin’s room?” she hisses, letting out a deep breath, trying to slow her rapidly beating heart.

He rubs his eyes. “Tired,” he says, as if that answers everything. “Move over?”

Nancy moves over, temporarily mourning the loss of contact with Robin, only for Robin to be gently shifted over by Steve, who then collapses on her other side. Robin, thankfully, doesn’t wake, just adjusts to tug them both closer into her space. It’s a good thing she’s sleeping on her back, as Steve curls into her side as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“Night,” Steve mumbles, eyes already closed.

Nancy, still baffled, barely gets out her response of “Goodnight, Steve,” before soft snores start up from his direction.

Her racing heartbeat finally begins to calm. She shuffles closer to Robin, resting her cheek on her collarbone, and Robin sleepily wraps an arm around her side, tipping her head to rest atop Nancy’s.

She’s too tired to think much beyond that it feels nice, and Robin smells good. She drifts back off and is out within minutes.

When Nancy next wakes, it’s to whispering.

She cracks one eye open, finding Robin’s arm draped over her, Steve nestled into Robin, the both of them still fast asleep.

In the doorway, Mike, Lucas and Max stand, Max wobbly on her crutches and the two boys on either side of her, engaged in a heated, whispered discussion. They haven’t seemed to notice she’s awake yet.

“We can’t wake Nancy,” Mike hisses, and for a moment she’s touched, until he continues with, “She can’t cook to save her life.”

“Steve makes the best pancakes,” Lucas offers.

“Robin said not to wake anyone but her, but she’s stuck under that cuddle pile,” Max complains. 

“I think it’s sweet,” Lucas says, and Max pretends to retch.

“Sweet isn’t getting us fed,” Mike adds, groaning. “I’m starving.”

“You’re always starving.”

“I’m a growing boy!”

“For god’s sake.” Max shuffles forward, Lucas helping keep her steady, and she carefully reaches her crutch out to poke Robin’s leg. Nancy quickly closes her eyes again, careful to keep her breathing steady. She can feel Max poke Robin’s leg again, and again, and again.

Robin lets out a quiet groan, stretching out, then another groan. It’s quiet for a second, and then there’s another poke, and this time Nancy feels Robin push herself upwards.

“Whassamatter?” Robin mumbles, yawning. Her voice is raspier than usual, as it often is in the mornings, and Nancy loves the way it sounds. Her voice is so distinct, so Robin.  

It’s quiet again, some wordless communication occurring between Robin and the kids, and then Robin says, “Oh, breakfast.”

Nancy’s careful to slow her breathing as Robin slowly eases herself up. She’s being so careful to avoid disturbing both her and Steve, and Nancy doesn’t want her to think she’s woken her.

When Robin gets up, though, she peeks at her, catching a glimpse as she stretches. Her midriff is exposed as she does, lightly freckled, and she quickly averts her eyes. She prays that she isn’t flushing. Robin would find it incredibly funny that she’s looking.

Max is flushing, barely noticeable. She’s also staring at Robin’s midriff, and Nancy sees Lucas give her a discreet nudge, causing her to blink and quickly look away, turning a darker shade of red. Lucas looks amused, which means this isn’t a new occurrence. 

She gets it. It’s hard not to notice that Robin’s attractive, with her freckled skin and rough voice and assortment of jewellery she always wears. It’s perfectly natural to get a little awestruck sometimes. Maybe she’ll make a joke with Max about it when they’re alone, laugh about the shared experience.

She hears Robin shoo the three of them out so she can get dressed and quickly squeezes her eyes shut again. She can hear Robin rifling around the room, muttering to herself as she does, and finally, the door opens and closes again.

Nancy cracks her eyes open, seeing that Robin has left the room. She curls up in the space she’s left, breathing in the faint scent left behind and stretching out. It’s oddly peaceful, being in Robin’s space. 

Well. It is until Steve rolls over and collides with her, knocking their heads together.

Steve groans, massaging his head, and then pats the space next to him. A frown appears on his face, his hand feeling around the pillow, and then he blearily opens his eyes, squinting first at the pillows and then at Nancy. He stares at her for just a moment, and then rockets into a half-sitting position, pulling the duvet up to cover his bare chest. 

“You’re not Robin,” he says accusingly, looking thoroughly scandalised. It’s such a bizarre sight—Steve Harrington hiding his non-existent tits behind a blanket, as if he, one, didn’t strut around shirtless every summer and two, hadn’t been seen completely naked by her multiple times when they’d been dating—that she snorts.

“Well spotted,” she says, sitting up. “She’s making breakfast, I think.”

“Ah.” He relaxes, pushing his hair from his face. “Did you enjoy last night?”

She freezes, widening her eyes at him. What is he implying? What does he think happened last night? He did walk in on her and Robin sharing a bed, but it wasn’t like that— and he’d know that, surely? Robin doesn’t like her like that, for one, and for two, nothing would happen with the kids in the house, and for three, nothing would happen with Steve being able to collapse into bed with them at any time, and for four, she doesn’t even— she and Robin aren’t—

“Nance?” Steve tilts his head, giving her a strange look. “Did you not like the movie?”

Ohhhhh. The movie. The movie night that they had, that Steve knew occurred. That makes sense. She almost snorts again at how bizarre a conclusion she’d jumped to.

“It was good,” she says quickly, her voice coming out a little strangled. She clears her throat and continues, “We watched Alien. ”

Steve nods. “One of Robin’s favourites,” he says, then lets out a long sigh. “Alright. I’m gonna go give her a hand with the shitheads.”

“I’ll be down in a minute,” she promises, watching him wriggle out of the bed and steal one of Robin’s t-shirts from her wardrobe, pulling it over his head as he leaves the room.

She gives herself five minutes before dragging herself up, rifling through Robin’s clothes once again. She’ll make sure to wash and return them, it’s just for the day.

Downstairs, she finds Mike, Max and Lucas scarfing down breakfast at the table. Robin’s buttering toast, chatting to Steve, who’s lounging against the kitchen counters.

“Morning, Nance,” Robin calls, waving the buttery knife at her. “Breakfast?”

“Watch that thing.” Steve moves Robin’s arm down back towards the toast. Briefly, Nancy imagines the feel of Steve’s warm fingers on Robin’s skin, imagines them as Vickie’s fingers, and something inside her burns.

Surely she’s not jealous of Robin? She doesn’t even like Steve. She doesn’t even like Steve!

She opens the fridge, pouring herself a glass of orange juice to distract herself. Then, because Robin likes orange juice, she pours a second glass, handing it to Robin and immediately averting her eyes when Robin’s face lights up.

Horror films, apparently, make her weird.

She sits at the table, next to Mike, and almost immediately a plate appears in front of her. She murmurs a quiet thanks to Robin, glad to have something to occupy herself with. Moments later, Steve and Robin join them at the table, and Steve launches into some story about a particularly eventful shift at the video store.

Nancy’s eyes keep drifting to him and Robin, not taking in a word. Robin’s laughing, even though she knows Robin knows the story, and she can’t— she can’t pinpoint what’s happening. She can’t be jealous of Steve. She’d never dream of trying to take his spot as Robin’s best friend, no matter how much she likes being around Robin.

She can’t stop thinking about Robin’s freckles. 

Freckles that Steve knows and she doesn’t.

Freckles that Vickie knows and she doesn’t.

She’s spearing her food just a bit too hard. She drinks her orange juice instead, imagining pushing everything down, down, down, locking it up in her chest where it can’t escape.

As soon as her plates are cleared—hers and the other three’s—Nancy clears her throat.

“We should probably head home,” she says, as regretfully as she can muster. She deliberately doesn’t look at Mike, not wanting to see his disappointment. “Max, Lucas, I can give you a lift.”

They nod, Lucas automatically getting up to get Max’s crutches, and Nancy turns to Robin.

“Thanks for the breakfast. And the movie night, it was fun.”

“Sure,” Robin says, giving her a smile. “Come again, they pick on me less when you’re here.”

Nancy nods, all but shepherding the kids—not that they’re kids anymore—towards the hallway, grabbing her shoes and impatiently waiting for them to do the same.

“Nance?” Robin calls, and Nancy turns back to the doorway.

“Robin?”

“Hang out with me more? It’s been too long.”

She flushes. “I’d love to.”

Robin nods, smiling shyly, and Nancy nearly chokes on fondness for her. She all but jumps out the front door, ushering the other three in.

She drops both Lucas and Max off at Lucas’ house at their request, and then instead of driving literally just a few seconds more she turns the car around.

Mike turns to look at her, but she keeps her eyes on the road, driving in silence. Finally, she reaches the quarry, parking the car but still not speaking.

“Um,” Mike says, glancing out the window. “Nancy?”

“Do I like Steve?” she says in a rush. Mike blinks, then shoots her a weird look, mixed with disgust and confusion.

“You like Steve?” he repeats, sounding horrified. “What happened to your crush on Robin?”

“I know I’m a—” She stops short, whipping her head around to him so fast that she almost gets whiplash. “What?”

“You don’t like Steve,” Mike says, deliberately speaking slowly. “You like Robin, don’t you?”

“I don’t like Robin,” she splutters, and then it all hits her, every puzzle piece slotting into place. “Oh, my god.”

“... You didn’t know?” He sounds incredulous. “You keep giving her gross googly eyes whenever you look at her, and you get all giggly around her, and you keep blushing. Aren’t you, like, trying to be a reporter?”

Nancy stares at him.

“Oh, my god!” Mike throws his hands up in the air. “Nancy. You are not this dense.”

“But—” She stops again. “How long?”

“You tell me!”

“Oh, god. Oh, so long.” She closes her eyes. “Oh, no. No, no, no. Mike, I can’t do this. I can’t have a crush on Robin.”

He pauses. “What? Why not?”

“Just— I can’t.”

“But why?”

“It won’t work!” she cries, opening her eyes. “It’s too— it’s too close. It’s too realistic.”

Mike is looking at her like she’s lost her mind. “Too realistic?”

Her mind’s racing, though. There are too many variables, too many things to go wrong. For one, Robin doesn’t even like her like that. She wouldn’t want to date her.

Actually, Robin only broke up with Vickie last September. She probably doesn’t want to date anyone right now. Especially not her best friend’s ex.

And they’re going to college soon. Why would Robin want to be tied to her like that? Once things are finished—finally, truly finished—she’s going to go on to college, to Boston, and Robin’s going to go wherever she wants, and she’s going to travel the world with Steve at her side. She’ll move on to bigger and better things. She’ll probably get a girlfriend then. Someone far cooler than she could ever be. 

Someone who will know all her freckles.

Nancy groans, letting her head fall forward to hit the steering wheel.

“Nancy?” Mike pokes her. “If you’re going to drive into the quarry, can I get out of the car first?”

“You cannot let anyone else know,” she says, turning to him. She manages to resist the urge to grab him by the shoulders. “This— this teeny tiny maybe-kind-of-crush can not develop into a real crush. I’ll stomp on the butterflies if I have to.” She feels a bit faint. “Acute Wheeleriosis might be contagious. Do you feel ill?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” He’s wide-eyed now, looking alarmed. “Oh, you’re freaking out, aren’t you? You’re actually freaking out.” He unbuckles his seat belt, turning to face her, and grabs her arms. “Nancy. Breathe with me. In… out. In… out.”

She does so, following along, and Mike nods.

“This is not the end of the world,” he says firmly. “It isn’t a big deal. It isn’t even a little deal.”

“She’ll hate me.”

“She’s Robin.” He squeezes her arms. “If she hates you, I’ll just have to fight her.”

“You’d lose that fight,” she says weakly, and he nods, trying to hide a smile.

“I know. So she can’t hate you, because I really don’t want to have to fight her.” She lets out a little laugh, and he does smile then, relaxing. “Also Robin’s, like, actually fun. If you date her I get to see her way more.”

“Robin and I aren’t going to date,” she says, but she’s smiling, too, despite the tension in her chest. “I’ll just… figure myself out. Take some time to work through things.”

“Whatever you need to do.” Mike leans back, looking relieved. “I, um, support you, and stuff. You know that, right?”

“Of course I do.” She looks at him for a moment, hesitant, and then pulls him into a hug. “I love you, Mike.”

“I love you too,” he says gruffly, but his cheeks are pink.

She starts the car, her nerves, at the least, having calmed. She’ll have another spiral later, she already knows, but Mike’s right; it’s not the end of the world.

That’s a whole other problem for later.

When they finally get home, their mom pops out of her bedroom as Nancy heads up to her own room.

“Good night?” she asks, and Nancy pauses, halfway up the stairs.

“The best,” she replies, completely sincere. She catches Mike’s eye and they share a smile, just for them.