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Nancy wanted to scream, tear out her hair, throw a tantrum and yell about how unfair it all was. Being in a professional work environment made that difficult though.
Instead, she smiled and clapped as she watched yet another of her colleagues collect on the rewards of her hard work. She sat in her seat for as long as she could stomach, and then broke away to hide in the bathroom until she felt like she could be in the office without feeling the urge to break something.
This marked the fifth time that one of her coworkers had gotten recognition for her research, her writing, or her investigating, and she was sick of it. After her stint at the paper in Hawkins, she had expected some disadvantages in her working life, but this was ridiculous. She had put more hours of work into that last story than anyone on the team, it had even become a running joke in the office that she spent more time here than at home! How could she have gone unrecognised again?
If only it was socially appropriate to send your boss into the hell dimension underneath your hometown, she thought fancifully. He certainly wouldn't underestimate her or her mettle ever again, but it would likely raise other issues.
So instead of doing what she wanted to do, what she felt like doing, she muscled it all down, dusted off her skirt, straightened her already perfectly laid blouse and looked at herself in the mirror.
"You deserve better," she told herself, firm and assured, "go out there and demand better."
She gritted her teeth, took a deep breath and left the bathroom, beelining for her manager's office across the floor. She caught a few comments from the piggish men in their cubicles about how 'it must be that time of the month' or about 'how sensitive women are these days'. These were the sorts of comments that had become commonplace really. Ordinarily, she'd have a quip or scathing remark to throw their way, but right now she was on a mission.
Seeing that Jerry was free, she walked straight in without knocking. By way of greeting, she planted her hands firmly on her hips. Robin would call it a power pose and point out how odd it was that polite and demure Nancy Wheeler had grown into who she had.
"Miss Wheeler, what can I do for you?" Jerry started, but it wasn't a genuine question. He wasn't even paying the courtesy of looking at her and was instead polishing a tacky golf ornament that he kept on his desk.
"I want it on the record that I should have received a share in that raise," that was generous really, she should have received the entire raise. Frank had spent the last three weeks making unhelpful comments and sleeping through group meetings, instead of organising them like he should have been. Nancy decided, though, that if she made that observation known to her boss, she'd be on the entire company's shit-list.
"Wheeler, Frank was head writer on that project, it was his story, he got the raise," he already had the glazed-over look in his eye that she recognised all too well. She'd seen it enough times when she'd tried to engage her father in any kind of conversation that involved her passions.
"That's just it though, sir, I did more work than anybody on this one. Ask around. I've worked more hours than anybody else in the department, I spent all my free time researching and I wrote almost the entire article–"
Jerry put up a condescending hand to stop her, "you chose to do those things, no one asked you to, darlin'." He said deliberately.
Nancy ground her teeth and lifted her chin – Lord knows she's put up with worse than a little misogyny. She poured all the false respect she had into her voice as she replied.
"All due respect, sir, but it never would have made it to print if it weren't for me."
"Fortunately, we'll never know," he said with a smugly patronising smile.
Nancy seethed. She opened her mouth to argue again, but he raised that damned hand again. This time he made a shooing motion. Like she was little better than a misbehaving child. Worse than that; like she was a creature he didn't care to even feign his respect for.
Without hesitation, and with all the surety she could muster, Nancy stood her ground and with a deep breath announced: "Jerry, I quit."
The moment the words were out of her mouth an overwhelming sense of relief washed over her. A heavy burden was lifted off of her shoulders and she felt like she could straighten her spine for the first time since she'd taken this god-forsaken job.
"Don't be stupid, Wheeler," Jerry warned, still with the tone of condescension, like it was his default when he spoke to her.
"Oh this is the smartest thing I could possibly do, right now, I deserve better than this." A smirk was fast-developing across her face, the apathy she had now that she wasn't worried about her job caused a little of her ruthlessness to slip through her crafted 'girl-next-door' veneer, "this paper will drown without me."
"Hah!" Her boss chortled, "you won't last a week out there in this business."
"I've faced down serial killers and won, Jerry. I'll be just fine."
Taking more than a little satisfaction in the astounded look on her ex-boss's face, she turned on her heel and walked out. Without slowing, she hooked her bag over her shoulder as she passed her desk and then walked out the front door. Not so much as a glance back before she stepped out into the crisp Chicago air.
Walking away from the building, Nancy felt like she could finally breathe properly. She'd spent her entire tenure there shaping herself into the boxes they wanted her in, squeezing herself into categories that made the men around her comfortable. When she thought about it, she'd done that her whole life.
She always made herself smaller to be more acceptable to those around her. People struggled to handle her competence and drive – it tended to make them feel inadequate – and so they found ways to limit her to make her more palatable. And when she'd gotten used to people reacting to her that way, to them wrestling down those parts of her personality, she'd started doing it preemptively.
Walking out of that no-name paper had been a wake up call. An opportunity to reset. Remove the mask.
She felt powerful.
So when she got home, jobless and pretty much penniless, she was smiling.
"What are you doing here, Nancy Drew?" Eddie asked from his spot on the sofa, guitar in hand, when she walked through the door.
"I just quit my job," Nancy replied. She was a little breathless, likely owed to the four flights of stairs up to their place, but it was also partly because she felt a bit giddy saying it outloud.
"Alright, Wheeler," he praised, setting down his prized guitar and holding up an appreciative fist for her to bump. She grinned and did so proudly. If she could count on anyone to be delighted about her joblessness, she could count on him. He'd been encouraging her to quit for almost as long as she'd worked there. Eddie wasn't one to suffer fools and so the very first time Nancy had come home seething about the blatant unfairness she was experiencing, that had been his immediate suggestion.
To begin with she had found it infuriating. The fact that Eddie thought she could be content in giving up so easily and letting them win was insulting. She was too good for that; too smart, too stubborn.
Nancy refused to give in so easily. She was determined that once she proved herself useful, if she did what they asked, went above and beyond, they'd have to take her seriously. She thought she'd finally be given the lead on the important stories. She was a talented, hard-hitting, investigative journalist. She was wasted on boring puff pieces that only existed to fill in the gaps on the pages. She was naïve enough to think that her boss would see that in time. Clearly she had been wrong.
As she flopped down onto the sofa beside her best friend, she resented him a little. Things were so much easier for him – since they'd left Hawkins and the people who called him 'murderer' and 'Satanist' behind, at least. While he'd certainly understand some prejudices and unreasonable roadblocks in his day to day, his life would never be complicated by sexism. When he was good at things, that was taken at face value; he was allowed to be good at them. When he felt something, he didn't have to reign himself in or risk accusations of 'hysteria'. He didn't have to worry about saying or doing the wrong thing, and having that mistake reflect on every woman in the field.
She loved Eddie dearly, but he would never truly understand. So when he gave his advice, it was sometimes a bit too flippant, a bit too blasé.
But even when he couldn't help, he'd always be there with Nance to celebrate her wins. So she leaned against his side and smiled when he squeezed her tight and told her (not for the first time) that she was the baddest badass in the history of badassery.
"Alright, alright," Nancy grinned, pushing him away playfully. Eddie had a very physical way of showing his support and affection, sometimes it was a little stifling. She gave him a warm smile anyway, "do you know what their shifts are today?" She asked, gesturing towards the ceiling. Robin and Steve lived in the flat above them which conveniently concentrated all of Nancy's favourite people (bar a few) into one apartment block.
Eddie smirked and leaned back, picking up his guitar in one fluid motion, "Robin has today off if that's what you're asking," he said, playing a guitar riff that was vaguely familiar.
She rolled her eyes and stuck out her tongue at him as she stood to head upstairs. She ignored it when he affectionately flipped the bird in her direction.
When she knocked on their door, it took a second for there to be a response. Nancy understood why when Robin came to the door dressed in coveralls that were more paint than fabric.
"Hey Robin-a-Roo, busy day?" She chuckled, a little sarcastically.
"You don't even know the half of it, Nance," Robin sighed with false weariness as she turned to walk back into the apartment with a broad grin. She left the door open for Nancy to follow her.
Nancy smiled with amused shock when she reached Robin's room.
Every surface was covered in sheets of tarp, save for one wall which was smattered with splats vibrant colour.
There were open cans of paint in every colour you could imagine lined up on the floor (also protected with plastic), and there were various paint brushes and tools strewn about. When she looked at Robin again though, she saw that clearly she had leaned in favour of using her bare hands for this endeavour.
"Voilà!" Robin announced, waving her arms dramatically at the wall. Her face was adorned with a broad and bright grin that reached her eyes. Nancy's chest flowered with warmth.
"Cool," she said with a smile of her own, "there's almost as much paint on the wall as there is on you."
"Oh, excuse me for getting excited at the prospect of flinging colours around," Robin rolled her eyes good-naturedly and turned to admire her messy work.
Nancy laughed again and looked at the set up Robin had going.
She grinned, "looks like fun."
Robin beamed and turned to face Nancy again, "it's a great stress reliever. Wanna join?" She wiggled her eyebrows in challenge.
"Oh I wouldn't want to ruin it," she replied, suddenly feeling sheepish and vulnerable.
Robin's voice dropped a little, and she smirked, teasing, "ruin my completely random, zero skill required, messy, impulsive, paint splashing?"
Nancy frowned, "Impulsive? Didn't you get the landlord's permission?" She asked.
"There wasn't time! I had to go to the hardware store to get the tarps and paint and then I was deciding which wall to do it on and covering everything else with plastic and tape!" She spoke while waving her arms around dramatically, clearly just trying to make Nancy laugh. It worked.
"Don't worry I'll paint over it when I move out," she promised and wiggled her fingers ominously as she asked, "so are you getting your hands dirty or what?"
This time it was Nancy who rolled her eyes, "Fine, but I don't really have any clothes I'd be okay with getting paint on."
"Just borrow mine," Robin offered without hesitation, already dipping a hand into a truly alarming shade of bright green and admiring the way it dripped from her long fingers.
She grinned at Robin's ease at offering up her clothes for her to essentially ruin. The trust that Nancy would know the right clothes to pick, the inherent intimacy of sharing clothes, shocked her a little.
An indescribable warmth spread through her chest as she rifled through the drawers. She grabbed a grubby old work shirt that she knew Robin only kept for messy projects like this, since it was embroidered with a company logo. And she recognised a pair of dungarees she'd seen Robin wear before – she had a habit of drawing on the knees and wiping dirt and dyes and all sorts all over them, so she assumed a little paint would be fine – and took them to the bathroom to change.
When she came back into Robin's room, Nancy lingered at the door. Robin had put on some music (apparently not minding her tape deck getting a little colourful) and was jumping around dancing to David Bowie. With her eyes closed, she didn't see Nancy return and so was unencumbered by embarrassment or shyness.
Robin smiled bright, she occasionally flicked out her arms towards the paint wall, leaving a splatter of neon green from the arc of her hands as she danced. It was pure joy. Nancy couldn't keep herself from joining.
As the chorus hit, she jumped into Robin's room, dancing like no one was watching and she started singing along. Well, shouting would be more accurate.
At first her friend looked caught. Like she didn't mean for anyone to see her goofing around dancing to one of her favourite songs, so Nancy made sure to act even goofier. Even out the playing field.
Robin's face then transformed into something akin to awe. Like she couldn't believe that Nancy was there. Finally, her expression turned into one of sheer happiness as she started dancing again and joining Nancy in her shout-singing of the chorus.
As the song faded out they found themselves theatrically falling to the ground out of breath, the plastic rustled beneath them. Any of Nancy's lingering annoyance for the people at her old job had been drowned out by the utter joy that coursed through her now.
She sighed as she finally regained her wind, "I needed that," she smiled as she sat up to look at the wall again, "so what do you want me to do?"
Robin mumbled something as she sat up herself, but it was garbled by the sound of the effort she took. When Nancy turned to look at her Robin looked confused, "what do you mean? Just do what you want, man. Go with your feels, let the music move you."
The last words were said in a floaty sing-song that made Nancy giggle, as she watched Robin rock back and forth, out of time to the new song that had started playing, "sometimes I forget your parents were hippies, and then you go and say something like that."
Robin chuckled as she got to her feet, offering Nancy a hand, "seriously, Nance, just do what feels right, there's not a pattern follow or a quota to meet, just–" She bent over abruptly, dunking her hands in a paint can and threw her arms out at the wall again, "dip and fling."
Nancy's smile felt like it'd rip her face in half. "Dip and fling," she tried to say seriously and failed.
She did exactly that, though: dipped her hands into a lovely shade of bright sky blue, and swung her arms out, watching the paint drops flick from her fingers in an arc and hit the plaster with a satisfying splat. She threw her arms about in every direction she could think of until the paint on her hands ran out and then she stood back, admiring her handiwork. It was messy and dripping down towards the ground already. It was perfect. Nancy looked over to Robin for her approval but she was already looking right at her with a huge grin, bouncing in place.
"Atta girl, Nance," she said, quieter than Nancy had expected her to speak. There was a strain behind it, like she was holding back. Nancy didn't really know how to respond, so she flicked the tiniest bit of remaining paint at Robin's chest playfully and then bent to get the next colour to decorate the wall.
For the next few hours they remained there, in a bubble, goofing around, listening to music, making a mess. The world may as well have disappeared for all they knew. In their little room, with Robin's ratty old speakers blasting Blondie and Bowie and Bonnie Tyler, Nancy felt freer than she had in months.
Only when they started to get hungry did they realise how much time had passed and by then, Robin's bedroom wall looked positively psychedelic.
"Wow," Nancy chuckled when she stood back and took a proper look at the project. She hadn't really expected it to look as beautiful as it did, a little worried that the paints would congeal and dull into brown. Instead it made up a maelstrom of brightly coloured nonsense. Something like glee bubbled in the pit of her stomach.
"Right?!" Robin exclaimed, bouncing on the balls of her feet and wriggling her fingers in that cute way she did when something excited her. Nancy found herself hiding a private smile behind her curls before Robin could see her blush. Get a grip, Nancy.
They went off to clean themselves up in the bathroom, rinsing off what they could from their hands and arms. Robin hand shrugged off the top half of her coveralls and tied it around her waist. It was unbearably attractive. Nancy endeavoured not to stare by staring diligently at her own hands as she scrubbed them.
"So," Robin said, breaking the silence, "how are you now?" Robin asked and Nancy snapped her head back up in surprise at the question.
"What do you mean?" Nancy asked, acting as casual as she could manage.
Now Robin seemed to shrink a little, like she was embarrassed, "I mean – um – well, about the paper, I guess."
"Oh," she sighed, biting her lip and Robin looked abruptly away, she tried to lighten her tone "did Eddie somehow tell you when I wasn't looking?"
"No, no, he didn't," Robin assured her quickly, "I just assumed. Since, you're here… in the middle of the day. And I know you've been really unhappy there and you've been thinking about talking to your boss which I can't imagine going well since he's, like, a rich, old, white man. Not that I think you'd have said anything to get fired! It's just that that is what men are like, you know?"
Nancy found herself laughing at her companion's rambling and put a hand on her shoulder to keep her from rambling herself in circles, "I know. But I feel great, Robin."
She seemed to release the tension from her shoulders then, and relaxed under Nancy's hand. Robin was smiling but wouldn't look her in the eye, a sort of bashfulness overtaking her. It was painfully cute.
All Nancy could think about at that moment was how effortlessly Robin had re-routed her day to include her and help her forget the terrible day she'd had up until then. How easily she had brightened her mood, lifted her out of her anger and upset, by knowing exactly what would cheer her up.
"Thank you," Nancy said, and without her brain's permission her throat knotted which doused the words in emotion. She felt her lip quiver and took a breath to contain herself.
Before she could process what was happening, Robin had engulfed her in a hug. Her arms wrapped tightly around her shoulders, face buried somewhere near Nancy's collarbone. One hand brushed up and down her back while the other held her close, and both movements were immensely soothing. She felt safe, cared for. Tears began to fall.
"I'm sorry," Nancy apologised, looping an arm around Robin's waist while the other was trapped against her chest.
"You don't need to apologise."
"I'm just so angry, you know?" She gasped in a soggy breath, "I work so hard and do so much and it's never even noticed."
"I know," Robin whispered.
"It's not fair."
"It's not, you deserve better."
Nancy pulled away, not even enough to break their hold on each other, to look at Robin when she admitted, "That's what I said when I quit."
Robin's eyes lit up, "you quit?" She surged forwards again and held Nancy so tightly, her ribs complained.
"Nance, I'm so proud of you," she was whispering into Nancy's hair again but this time, it was cheerful.
Nancy's smile was watery but genuine when she tightened her arms around the person that made her feel so much better.
…~...
She avoided visiting home as much as she could these days. She'd left Hawkins for a reason, so of course coming back was always slightly sour.
She'd outgrown this town years ago and being back was suffocating. There were a few moments of reprieve; when she got a moment alone with her mum and she gushed about how proud she was of all Nancy had accomplished, when she could get away to see Robin or the Byers-Hoppers (Steve and Eddie had stayed back in Chicago for the holidays, Wayne insisted he come up to them). Mostly though, it was horrible.
She only had to get through two more days. Two days and then she'll be free – she'll hightail it over to the Buckleys', grab Robin and haul ass straight back home.
Until then though, she had to sit through conversations with her family members. The questions she could handle, the small talk was mind-numbing but bearable, but when they started proffering their opinions on things? She hated it. Not so much from the more distant family members, random cousins and uncles that felt the need to put in their two cents – that much was expected and easily ignored. When it came from her dad though, the man she was supposed to look up to, the man whose thoughts had meant so much to her once upon a time (and still did if she was honest with herself), it was a much harsher blow.
She'd just finished recounting the story of how she'd left her job a few months ago and gotten a much better one for another paper. She had thought that her dad would be proud of her, would praise her for knowing her own value and succeeding because of it. Instead he'd hardly looked away from the television, and when he did, he regarded her with derision.
"What's the matter?" Nancy asked, her excited smile from recounting the tale beginning to drop.
"I don't understand why you bother working at all, Nancy. You ought to get married and settle down. You need to be tamed."
She felt like he'd slapped her across the face. He may as well have. She didn't think there was anything he could say that would have hurt worse than that. Ted turned towards the TV again without a second thought, probably already forgetting what he'd said to his daughter. Nancy felt the threat of tears prick her sinuses so she stood and made for her old bedroom before anyone could see her cry.
Despite her fury, she tried hard not to slam the door behind her, instead taking out her frustrations on the drawers. She gripped the wood until her knuckles turned white, her breathing turned erratic as she wrestled her instinct to shout and fight and make him understand.
She wished she was home again. Not for the first time that day, and likely not for the last.
She wanted to be back in Chicago with Eddie and Steve and Robin. The people who understood her, supported her, bolstered even her most outlandish ideas. She missed Eddie's look of awe at everything she did – it was disastrously nourishing to her ego but she loved that he thought she was "the coolest cat since sliced bread". His words.
Nancy missed talking things through with Steve, she loved his level-headedness and balance. It usually meant that whatever scheme she had cooked up somehow ended up much more effective. He'd occasionally try and talk her down, but he knew her well by now. Knew her stubborn nature.
And she missed Robin. Just Robin. The way she'd always be there. Always cheering her on, always holding her hand when she needed it.
Right now she just wanted her friends.
Unfortunately, whatever higher power was up there felt differently and instead sent Mike.
He lightly knocked and then let himself into the room, seemingly completely unaware of how upset she was.
"Nancy, can you drive me to Will's later?" It was clear that he didn't expect any answer other than a happy 'yes'. He had barely stepped into the room and was already turning to go, knowing he'd not need to fight his case.
Nancy gritted her teeth against the instinct to snap at her brother. After all, he hadn't done anything wrong; she was angry at Ted, not at him.
"Sure," she answered through gritted teeth, giving him a false smile that would fool no one.
Mike looked to take it at face value for a moment, considering whether he should ask her or not. He wavered on the threshold and eventually decided. He looked at her again, this time actually paying attention.
"What's got you all bent out of shape?" He asked. It wasn't unkind, just sort of… thoughtless. It annoyed her all over again.
"Nothing," her voice came out tight and strained, "dad's just– god, he thinks I need to be 'tamed'!" She didn't mean to say it, it wasn't Mike's problem, she knew he wouldn't understand, but she felt like she was going to explode if she didn't let some of her rage free. Like letting steam out of an over-boiling pot.
Mike looked nonplussed and simply stood there as she recounted her father's words and ranted a little. She gestured wildly in her fury and paced the floor. When she was done, she looked to her brother, hoping for sympathy, maybe even understanding.
She was disappointed.
"I mean, he's not wrong. When you have a house and a family, you won't have time to work. That's what girls do, right?" Mike looked like that was the most sensible thing in the world. Like it was fair. Expected. Nancy wanted to throw him out of her window.
"No, Mike, we don't," she spat, "we tend to be living, breathing creatures with brains and ambitions of our own."
Mike looked shocked, he didn't expect her to react so bitterly. He must have noticed his error because he quickly added, "well, that's just what mom did, I guess you can do whatever you want though."
It should have been enough to placate her, really. Mike was young, a product of his sheltered, privileged upbringing. He didn't know better unless someone taught him better. But Nancy was so tired of teaching people things. Sometimes she wished they'd just know.
So she turned away, silently fuming. She gazed out the window, briefly fantasising about an escape plan.
"Can you still give me a ride?" Mike asked, voice small and cautious. This time unsure of what the answer would be.
She put effort into making her voice softer this time, "Yes, Mike, be ready in thirty."
"It can be later if you want, I don't mind," he didn't sound sure, he was clearly still tiptoeing.
"Don't be silly," Nancy rolled her eyes with a sigh, "you'd rather be at Will's than listening to Aunt Carol sing White Christmas badly."
That managed to share a smile between them, tension dropped as they complained together about their very annoying relatives.
When her brother left to pack his overnight bag, Nancy was left to her own devices. A dangerous thing for a woman of her brains, capability and desperation to escape.
In the end she didn't need a grand plan. She was an adult. With her own home and her own car. She could just leave. So she gathered together her things haphazardly and while no one was looking, snuck outside to sling her bags into the back seat.
As she looked back at the house, hoping that Mike would be ready to go, she caught sight of her mum gliding across the window with Holly on her hip. Suddenly she couldn't allow herself to just leave without saying goodbye to them.
Ducking back inside, she managed to dodge beckons for her attention by pretending to need something in the kitchen, but she knew that would hardly work for long. So when she found her rearranging a couple of decorations absently, Holly had since gone off to do her own thing, she grabbed her mum by her wrists and dragged her along.
"Nancy, sweetie," Karen chuckled, trusting her daughter and going along without a fuss. Safely tucked away, she turned to her but clearly hadn't schooled her features well enough.
"You look… thunderous, Nance, are you okay?" She swept a hand down the side of Nancy's face, taming a stray curl and then moving to hold her chin gently.
"I can't be here after what dad said. I can't." Nancy admitted, "I'm leaving, but I needed to say goodbye."
Her mum's face softened in sympathy and she pulled her into a comforting, motherly hug, "it's okay, I understand."
There was no heat in her mother's voice. No strain of upset, no anger, no disappointment. Just love and compassion.
It made sense, really; if anyone was going to understand how it felt to be on the receiving end of her father's soul-crushing remarks and almost neglectful disinterest, it'd be Karen Wheeler.
Nancy squeezed her a little tighter.
"Okay, Wonder Woman," Karen huffed out a small laugh, "best get going before the crowd thins and they notice you leaving, eh?"
Nancy nodded with a sad smile, "thank you," she said. The words were small and broken, her heart broke a little bit too.
Her mother rubbed her back soothingly, "can I see you again before you head home? Or are you leaving tonight?"
"I'm just going to Robin's for now," she assured her. She pulled out of the hug but kept their hands gripped together, "I'll come see you before we go home."
"No no, I'll come see you, we can go for coffee or something." Something in the way her mum said it made Nancy want to cry. Like she was just as desperate to get out, even if only for a few hours.
"Sounds perfect," Nancy smiled knowingly, and before she lost her resolve she took a deep breath, "you know, you and Holly are always welcome in Chicago. Eddie can stay at Robin and Steve's and we'll have the apartment to ourselves."
Tears welled in her mother's eyes, and her lip quivered but she was smiling and nodding gently, "that would be lovely, Nance." She surged forward and wrapped her daughter in a bear hug, "I'm so proud of you. You are a wonderful, wonderful woman."
Nancy pulled back and beamed at her mother, "I got it from my mom," her voice was warm and thick with affection. She hoped it came across in those simple words, just how much she meant it.
Karen's eyes were still welled up but she was stoically fighting them back, determined not to cry. Nancy had seen that look in the mirror.
"I love you, mom," Nancy said, with one last squeeze of her mother's hand.
"Love you more, honey," she smiled through glistening eyes, "now go go go!"
Nancy did just so. She found Holly over by the unsupervised plate of cookies, kissed her goodbye and slipped out in the middle of a loud argument about who sang 'White Christmas' originally. Mike was waiting by the car with a bag slung on his shoulders.
As she pulled up to the Buckleys' house that evening, having dropped Mike off, she'd had plenty of time to consider what she was doing and work herself into knots.
It was unfair of her to spring this on Robin, for her to invite herself over until they decided to go home. It was the holidays, the Buckleys were probably busy with family things. Family that didn't include her.
Nancy was seconds away from driving off without even knocking the door when she caught movement from the corner of her eye.
"What are you doing here, Nance?" Robin asked, running up to the car and flinging the door open a broad smile lighting up her beautifully freckled features. She yanked Nancy out of the driver's seat to pull her into a bone crunching hug.
When she could breathe again, Nancy answered without answering, "I'm so sorry to just turn up like this."
Robin waved her off dramatically with a scoff, "you're always welcome, Nance, my parents love you." The thought made Nancy grin.
"So are you staying the night? Or is this a flying visit? Because if you're staying that'd be super helpful because we've got an odd number so games are a little harder. You can be on my team? I bet my dad will try to steal you though. For your brain." She said the last part with a strange seriousness that was rarely found on her face. Nancy laughed.
"I was hoping to stay the night?" She admitted, "I promise I'll be in your team," she added to sweeten the deal. Robin made a not-so-subtle fist pump and then leaned into the car to grab Nancy's bags. She headed into the house without another word, so Nancy assumed that it was okay. That she was welcome. She trailed up the path behind her friend.
When she stepped inside, she was sweetly assaulted by the smell of gingerbread and wintery herbs. The warmth that spread from the hearth in the living room bled into her bones and warmed her soul. There were carols playing delicately from the radio in the kitchen. Robin had disappeared into her bedroom down the hall, deposited Nancy's bags and returned, stopping through said kitchen, to pick up a bounty of cookies that she offered up.
Nancy took one with a smile. It was such a stark contrast to the chaos of Christmas at her parents'. No overbearing relatives telling her that she looked tired and hadn't done her hair right. No screaming cousins trying to hang off of her arms the moment she appeared. It was peaceful.
Only now, in the lull, did Nancy realise that Robin was wearing the sweater she'd given her for Christmas. It was mostly blue, slightly faded in places, with grey sleeves that frayed at the cuffs and in embroidered lettering across the chest, it read 'I'm a bottomless sea'. She'd found it in a thrift store back in Chicago and immediately imagined Robin wearing it.
Nancy was suddenly overwhelmed by how happy she was to be there.
"Are you sure it's okay with your parents that I'm here?" She asked, worried that she'd disrupt the atmosphere like a hostile species introduced to a thriving ecosystem.
"Let's go ask, Nancy-pants," Robin said through a cheekful of gingerbread. Nancy rolled her eyes at the moniker but followed her as she made off towards the living room.
Robin placed the cookies onto the coffee table and spoke along as she signed to her mother on the couch, "Nancy's here, can she stay the night?"
Mrs Buckley seemed to bolt upright at that and Nancy flinched, preparing to be kicked out. But as she turned and their eyes met, it was clear her worry was for nothing. Mrs Buckley beamed at her with a familiar smile that she'd obviously passed onto her daughter.
Nancy had only been learning sign language for a few months but she had a grasp on the basics. So when Mrs Buckley signed enthusiastically – "Of course! Have you had dinner already?" – Nancy was already bringing up her hands to respond when Robin started to translate.
Nancy felt something flutter in her chest at Robin's surprised, perhaps even impressed, expression.
It was senseless, really; she was sure that she signed like a five-year-old. Robin had no reason to be impressed. Still, though, she felt a blush begin to burn her cheeks.
To Nancy's horror, Mrs Buckley was looking directly at her. A knowing, sly smile encroached on her usually soft, amiable features; she looked downright devious.
This time when Nancy's stomach flipped, she knew it was a concoction made up of embarrassment, nerves and general inner turmoil. She shot a (hopefully subtle) panicked glance at Robin's mother who responded in kind with a subtle wink.
Dear God, I'm screwed, she thought, disastrously aware of her own inability to mask her fast-growing crush. And now said crush's mother was also aware. Fantastic.
She signed an incoherent excuse and all but sprinted to the bathroom to escape the scrutiny of Mrs Buckley's gaze. She pointlessly hoped that the reaction wasn't too transparent. But Robin wasn't a fool. For all the nonsense she rattled out in a day, there was twice as much going on in her mind that was useful. Nancy hoped in vain that the revelation of her feelings were shrouded in the layers of nonsense.
She splashed some cold water on her face and laughed a little hysterically.
She came here to escape the crushing weight of being misunderstood, of being a disappointment, and the claustrophobic press of expectation from her family. Now, here with the Buckleys, she was having a hard time being seen. Ironic, really.
There was a light tap on the door, loud enough to be heard, quiet enough not to startle. Robin's voice came through the door.
"Nance, are you okay?" She sounded worried. Nancy didn't want that.
"I'm fine, Robin-a-Roo," she said with wavering cheer as she unlocked the door, giving Robin a reassuring smile as she came in and closed the door behind her, "it's just weird being home."
Robin just nodded, looking down at her fingers where they fidgeted with the rings there. Nancy fought the urge to take those restless hands into hers.
She was nervous, fidgeting in that way she did when she had pent up feelings that needed to be let out. Robin shifted foot to foot, rhythmically swaying in time with a heartbeat. Nancy grinned and started moving along with her, the monotony peaceful and calming.
After a moment, Robin's eyes lifted up to Nancy's, determined and she spoke a little hurriedly – like she didn't want to not say it – "Why'd you come here, Nance?"
A little taken aback, it took Nancy a moment to realise what she'd been asked. She just blinked, calibrating and considering.
The truth was, the only time she felt relaxed was around Robin. The only time she felt completely herself was existing in the warm glow of Robin's presence. There was nothing she needed to do, nothing she had to explain or justify, she could just be. Any time spent in Robin's company was soothing, she came out of it feeling better, not worse.
That was more than she could say for anyone else in her life.
Mostly, her mother was kind, supportive. But there were times she'd make a needless comment about how skinny she was, or she'd sideways glance at something Nancy had said.
Then there was Steve. Sure, she and Steve were close. She trusted him with her life. But he knew her before. There was still a part of him that thought she might be happy living the small-town life. A part of him that still saw delicate and dainty little Nancy, whether he knew it consciously or not. She could see it, though.
And of course, Eddie was her best friend, her confidant, but he couldn't get it. They were fundamentally different: he followed his heart while she followed her head; he was happy to say a firm "fuck you" to society and live on the outside forever, she was determined to force society into submission until it accepted her, moulded around her. She sometimes felt like he was telling her to give up. Not outright, but it felt that way.
The kids still had a lot to learn. There was a lot they didn't understand just by virtue of their youth. And Nancy would never want to burden them with her own worries.
Robin never let her feel like a burden. She always understood her goals and ambitions. She always reminded her of exactly how much she was capable of. Never put her down, or questioned her expertise.
"You get me," Nancy over-simplified, "and I'm happier with you than I am with anyone else."
That seemed to cause some sort of a crisis. Robin suddenly stopped rocking, her fingers stopped fidgeting. Nancy ducked to look her in the eyes, trying to decipher the reaction, and was surprised to find a glint of pride, and a whole lot of happiness bundled into the blue of her eyes.
"I don't have to be 'Nancy', you know?" She tried to explain, but she knew it was an asinine attempt, "I can stop being 'me' for a bit…"
Robin's mouth hung open slightly, toying with a sentence that Nancy could already tell would be rushed and chaotic and jumbled. It made her smile.
Just as Nancy was about to break the silence herself, Robin took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Her voice still sounded strained when she spoke, though. Like she was fighting something back.
"I feel the same about you," the rasp in her voice was more pronounced than usual.
"Really?"
Robin nodded gently, starting to rock again, "you never tell me to slow down when I talk too fast. You let me go off on pointless tangents and talk about random things I find cool. You've never told me to stop moving around – actually you copy me sometimes, I love it." Her smile was back, but she couldn't look Nancy in her eyes still. Instead her gaze darted around the small room, settling on anything but Nancy's face.
"You've never made me feel like I'm too much or too loud or too annoying," Robin admitted, Nancy felt her own breath catch and her ribs constrict, "I can be myself when you're here. I kind of want you around all the time."
"You do?" Nancy asked, sounding a little broken.
Robin nodded again with a private smile. It was unsure and quiet. At that, Nancy knew that she needed to be honest.
With a sudden rush of clarity, bravery and affection, she couldn't hold it in anymore.
"I want to be around you all the time," Nancy confessed breathlessly – even to her own ears it sounded more like a plea than a statement.
Only then did Robin's eyes meet hers. There was a hint of something like hope or nerves or excitement in them. Perhaps all three were swimming around in the glassy blue at once; Robin always had kept her feelings in shallow waters. The smallest ripple or break in the surface tension and all came spilling out of her in a crashing cascade of consciousness.
Right now, she was keeping an awful lot at bay – Nancy could see the strain of it in the curve of her raised shoulders, the way that she was curled in on herself.
Nancy took a step forward, something bold taking her over. She reached out to rest her hands on Robin's, hoping that the tremble in them wasn't too noticeable.
She didn't think too much about how automatically she had pulled their clasped hands up to her lips, kissing Robin's knuckles gently. Nancy's entire being thrummed with anticipation at the shiver Robin was unable to suppress at the contact.
The bathroom suddenly felt very, very small. Too small to contain the unspoken words, the inescapable tension, the feelings that were building up to a fever pitch. Nancy felt the pressure of it all squeezing the air from her lungs until she could only draw ragged breaths.
She'd been circling her feelings for Robin for months, only able to keep her distance this long with conscious and continuous effort. The moment her concentration had slipped, her brain had been sucked into the whirlpool that was her obsession with Robin Buckley. Now that she'd gotten this far, she wasn't sure she'd ever be able to pull away again.
They drifted closer still. Nancy's hands had found their way to Robin's waist now, holding on to her belt loops and pulling her ever closer. She struggled to keep her eyes from honing in on Robin's full lips. Their height difference made that hard; they were directly at eye level, and so she got a front row seat to her tongue darting quickly across her bottom lip.
Nancy was hopelessly staring now.
Just barely registering that Robin's hands were shaking, Nancy could feel them slide up her shoulders and settle at the base of her skull. Leaving trails of goosebumps behind with the touch. She fought a shiver. Her entire body pulsed with energy.
She slowly, deliberately pulled herself to her full height and rolled up onto her tiptoes. The distance between them was negligible now, but Nancy kept it there for the moment. Instead of pulling them together completely, she moved her grip, balling her fists into Robin's sweater. The sweater Nancy had gotten for her.
It matched Robin's eyes almost perfectly.
In a broken whisper, Nancy confessed, "I would really like to kiss you."
The words tore a half panicked laugh out of Robin's throat. Nancy almost laughed too, at the look of irritation on her companion's face, like she was inwardly cursing herself.
"Sorry about that," Robin said once she'd gathered herself, and then made an over-serious, sobered face, "I think you deserve to have everything you want, Nancy Wheeler."
A grin broke across her face as she watched Robin's head bob up and down, like that was an absolute. Like it was obvious and unquestionable. Something joyous bubbled in her gut.
Finally – finally – she used her grip on Robin's clothes to pull her down to swallow up the last little bit of distance between them.
When their lips met, Nancy's mind exploded with light and colour and vibrance. Robin's mouth was warm and soft and inviting and so Nancy pushed further up into the kiss, all but begging for more.
Robin seemed happy to oblige, and while keeping one hand curling into Nancy's hair, she wound one arm around her waist, hoisting her up a little more. Nancy thanked her with a whimper that escaped without her permission.
A whimper that descended into an all-out moan when Robin's tongue grazed her top lip. Nancy couldn't be more enthusiastic in opening her mouth to deepen the kiss. The hands that were holding tightly at Robin's chest loosened and found their way up to her shoulders instead, wrapping around them to pull her closer.
Nancy was very aware that she'd need to come up for air soon but by-and-by thought that this would not be a bad way to go: suffocating with Robin's lips on hers, arms strong and desperate and needy wrapped around her.
All good things, though…
When they parted, they were both breathless and hazy, foreheads pressed together still. Neither wanted to separate from the other completely. So they panted and grinned and blinked away the daze, sharing their space, their air and their stability.
Robin managed to speak first, of course, "I'm so glad that that's what you wanted."
Nancy giggled airily, her brain was still a little mushy, "'want'," she corrected, "present continuous."
"Ugh, you nerd," Robin chastised before swooping down to catch their lips into another blistering kiss.
Nancy tightened her arms, still slung around the taller girl's neck to pull them closer but moved to part them again. They remained in each other's space, breathing the same air.
"We should go back out before your parents notice we've been gone," Nancy reasoned.
Robin whined in a way that Nancy shouldn't have found attractive, "but they'll be all annoying until we tell them what's going on."
It made her smile. The fear from earlier forgotten, "let's just go tell them then, your mom already knows about my embarrassingly huge crush on you."
"She does?" Robin seemed genuinely shocked. And then her features softened into something teasing, "I can't believe you have a crush on me, that's so weird."
"I know, right?" She laughed, placing one last chaste peck on Robin's lips and pulling away.
"Wait, just so I'm clear: you have a crush on me?" Robin's voice was a little shrill.
"That's probably understating things," Nancy said while she fixed her hair in the mirror and then spun to face Robin again, "I'm pretty sure you're my favourite person on the planet."
The little "oh," sound that Robin choked out was unbearably cute, and so Nancy felt the need to hold her face in her hands.
"Are you okay?" She asked delicately.
Robin's eyes were watery, moments from spilling over, but she kept her eyes on Nancy's. Gentle and loving and awed.
"Hell yeah, Hot Wheels," she replied softly and Nancy's answering giggle was a bit watery too.