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Of course, Robin regrets listening to Steve. It's getting rarer that that's the case-- he was already wise beyond his years before they started working together and the time since has only made him, unfortunately, more so. But, in a stunning turn of events, she's remembering why she never indulged him in the early college parties he begged her to let him drag her to, why she always made sure she was the one deciding where they went when they actually did manage to go out together. As thoughtful as Steve had become, he was still the overeager party boy of his youth somewhere under all that adulthood, and he was still an easy sell on anything that included a dance floor and a crowd. Even as silly as he looked when he was making all his friends dance to some stupid radio hit, Steve always managed to seem at ease at a party. Robin had no such luck.
And to let him convince her to go tonight to an event without him? She must be going insane. At the very least, Robin prefers to have people in her corner when she has to go to huge group events, plans of escape, and an awareness of how tipsy she has to be to finally let loose on the dancefloor. But no, tonight, Robin had allowed herself to be lulled into a false sense of security and reluctantly convinced to attend her high school reunion. Having not shared a graduating class, Steve's version of tonight had happened last year, and she remembered how excited he was to go see how everyone was doing, the way he returned home to their apartment with a grin, tie undone, and (lightly) cross-faded. The memory did make her smile, but she would be hard-pressed to believe she could recreate anything resembling it tonight. In contrast to her best friend, Robin had had a relatively shitty time at Hawkins High, the kind of floater who vaguely existed in a few social groups and sometimes attended events but mostly smoked under the bleachers and stayed after school to help the band director reorganize all the music for the next season. She actually wondered if anyone would even really notice her tonight, what with all of them planning to reconnect with old friends. Maybe, if she was lucky, someone would let Robin sneak out early and bum a cigarette in the parking lot, the way she might've at seventeen if dragged to a party like this.
She tugs on her tie awkwardly as she stands in line to get in, shifting from foot to foot as she lets the conversations of bubbly twenty-somethings wash over her. A girl she vaguely remembers being in student council is taking tickets at the front, and she smiles kindly at Robin before gesturing to a series of nametags to her right, already pre-filled out. Robin searches for a few painfully awkward minutes until she finally finds the one that reads Robin Buckley, Table 7, and mercifully escapes without anyone stopping her as more people file in behind her. She ducks inside the actual party, a rented ballroom at one of the local lodges that she's about seventy percent sure was where they held their prom, and hangs back to examine the scene at large.
At the front of the room, beyond the mostly empty dancefloor, is a large stereo set-up, a shifty-looking DJ who Robin thinks might actually let her steal a smoke hanging awkwardly behind it. At least there's that, she supposes. A series of balloons in school colors line the walls and a large banner welcomes back their class in slightly tasteless red paint. Well, she supposes, not everyone remembers as bloody a high school experience as she does, so maybe it feels more inviting and celebratory to everybody else. The room is filling and she's starting to get that feeling of seasickness on land that occurs whenever she finds herself in these sorts of situations. Robin thinks it might be best to go sit down, even if she'd truly rather scream than find out who she's been sat with. She maneuvers her way around the crowd, letting her eyes glance from table to table in search of lucky number seven. It's not in the back corner, but it is against a wall, and she gives an internal fist pump at the sight. Robin thinks she honestly might be able to get away with blending into the wood paneling of the wall for the night, then sneak back home to Steve and smack him for convincing her this was a good idea. The table isn't full yet, but there are mostly a series of vaguely familiar faces milling about, a few of whom are actually sitting at the table. Robin supposes those are some of her lucky seatmates.
One of the girls, wearing an admittedly beautiful blue dress, is Vickie. Robin feels rocketed back to high school, riding in Steve's car while he yells about Fast Times at Ridgemont High, and half-smiles at the memory. She hasn't spoken to the girl in literal years, but maybe the night won't be so bad if Vickie is here too. Maybe she even remembers Robin, awkwardly dancing around asking her out before she completely chickened out. And then disappeared to somehow start hanging out with Steve Harrington, Nancy Wheeler, and Eddie Munson, as well as a menagerie of children. ... Maybe it's better, Robin concedes, if Vickie has completely forgotten her. Regardless, she slips into one of the remaining seats, positioning herself as far from the collective of little blonde women in tight dresses and deep brown lipstick that has recently come into fashion, and just a seat away from Vickie. The girl turns and catches Robin's eye, tilting her head with a slight sparkle in her eye. Robin remembers why she had a crush on her, way back when, and breathes a little sigh of relief that she might have an ally for the night.
"Hey!" Vickie says, tilting her body toward Robin, "Ronnie, right?"
Robin deflates a little bit.
"Uh, Robin, actually. But, uh, close?" She tries, giving an awkward thumbs up.
Vickie looks briefly mortified. "Oh my god, I am so sorry. I'm kind of already a little drunk, if I'm honest-- I was super not looking forward to this," she says, laughing, and Robin grins in response.
"Oh, absolutely same. I only just barely let Steve talk me into this whole thing, and--"
"Steve... Harrington?"
Suddenly, the whole table is listening a little more closely to their little chat.
Robin feels herself wince and hopes she hides it well. "Mhm. He and I are roommates, actually."
The table doesn't exactly gasp, but she can tell the information is taken in with some amount of surprise. Vickie even gives her a considering look in response, head tilting.
"Are you two..." She doesn't say finally dating, but Robin can, uh... read between the lines, as it were. She's exceedingly used to people assuming that about her and Steve and it still makes her just as confused as it did in high school when it first started happening. It's not as risque for her to drop the "no, I'm into girls" line as it would've been a few years ago, but it still could go down like a lead balloon, especially at a table where Vickie doesn't even remember her name, no matter that she was (incredibly awkwardly) flirting with her in their senior year.
She hesitates. "Uh... well..."
"No," Robin hears behind her, and she feels two slender hands making their way onto her shoulders, "lucky me, right?"
Robin swears she could hear a pin drop with the awkward silence that falls as a result of Nancy's arrival. She turns her head to make eye contact with the girl and can't help but feel her jaw drop a little when she sees what she's wearing. Nancy is wearing a deep purple velvet dress, hair pulled off her shoulders. She no longer perms it as often, Robin knows from hanging out with her as much as she does, but there's still a gentle wave to it. Robin feels massively underdressed, somehow, even though she's in a literal suit, and she also feels a growing blush on her cheeks as Nancy smiles down at her, a spark of mischief in her eyes.
"Nancy Wheeler," one of the non-Vickies says, interest clear in her tone, "I wasn't sure we'd see you tonight. So nice of you to come with your... friend."
"Oh, sure," Nancy says, all saccharine sweet, "neither of us were sure we wanted to come, what with the whole thing being a little bit, well... lame, but Robin pulled this incredible suit out of her closet and I knew I just had to show her off."
Robin can feel her heart beating in her ears. She must be beet red at this point, she thinks, awkwardly averting her eyes down at the table. In all her wildest fantasies-- which, let's be honest, have (especially recently) been involving Nancy Wheeler-- she never once imagined Nancy pretending to date her at a huge social event. For one, Nancy is straight, and for another, it's absolutely insane of her to be choosing to out herself as queer to her entire senior class just to protect Robin. Robin swallows a knot in her throat and manages to tune back into the conversation. The other people at the table look just as surprised as she herself feels, and Nancy is still talking, chatting politely about her job as managing editor at the newspaper while her hands sink further and further down Robin's front, and then, she feels the drop of Nancy's chin to the top of her head. Nancy is finishing a sentence and Robin can see that they're about to get absolutely interrogated by one of the girls at the table, now that Nancy's little monologue is wrapping up. She must be able to see it too, because Nancy clears her throat as she finishes talking and begins to stand up.
Robin only has a minute to miss the warmth of her friend curled around her before Nancy is saying, "I don't want to be rude, ladies, but I absolutely have to make Robin dance with me, if you don't mind too much." She doesn't actually give them a chance to deny her, instead, she moves to Robin's side and wraps her fingers around her arm.
"C'mon, babe," she murmurs, and Robin knows it's for the benefit of their crowd, but she can't help but grin and duck her head shyly, following Nancy where she pulls her.
Nancy has, perhaps purposefully, chosen the moment Something to Talk About is beginning to flow from the speakers, Bonnie Raitt's twang clear and sharp. She tugs Robin closer and they add themselves to the swell of people who've migrated to the dance floor.
"So," Robin finally says, as Bonnie is leading into her first chorus, "that just happened."
Nancy is attempting to maintain a facade of innocence, but she's blushing to the tips of her ears. "I have no idea what you mean," she replies, and Robin quirks an eyebrow. "Sorry, did you, uh-- did you mind?" Nancy asks awkwardly, and Robin's step falters. She looks so nervous that she's done something wrong that Robin can't stand it.
"Nance," she says, tugging her closer, "you absolutely just saved my ass there."
Nancy grins.
"I guess I just... didn't expect it?" Robin adds, rushing to clarify, "Not that I, uh, didn't appreciate it, I absolutely did, but-- you gave me a bit of a surprise there, I guess."
Nancy tugs her bottom lip between her teeth, looking thoughtful. Robin resists the urge to want to lean in and tug it between her own teeth, but only barely.
"Well, they were all so rotten to you in high school, spreading all those rumors about you being a lesbian. A--and I know you are, but they were so snotty about it, like who could ever like a girl like that, I bet that's why she's gay, and it just wasn't fair. Like, they thought you weren't wonderful enough to get any girl you wanted? I don't know, it always bugged me, even before I really knew you, and then we became friends and I got so frustrated that last year when people would say that sort of stuff. And that year, they bounced between those kinds of comments and then really rotten ones about you and Steve, about how he had finally gotten that dyke to straighten out her act, and I think I hated that more? Before you even came out to me, uh, officially, I thought you two were dating too, but I never wanted you to feel like I thought that kind of stuff, y'know?" She's rambling now, and they've come to more or less a standstill, just swaying gently as Bonnie Raitt transforms into R.E.M's Losing My Religion. Robin feels all the breath knocked out of her. She knows Nancy cares about her, but it's different to hear her ranting about how upset she's gotten for years about the stupid shit kids have always said about Robin.
She doesn't manage to reply in the moment for which Nancy pauses, and the other girl continues on her diatribe. "And I was coming over to see you when I got here, because I know we hadn't talked about you coming, but I was so excited to see you, and then I heard them say that thing about Steve, and all I could think of was how they were going to say those same things, whether you told them some version of the truth or just let them believe you and Steve were together the way they always had, and I guess... I guess I just saw red. I wanted to do something to make them eat their words, to show them you weren't some pushover who would let Steve Harrington change your sexuality," and she says his name with such a distinct tone of disbelief that Robin has to giggle, then, "a-and that you weren't some unloveable freak either. I don't know, I just thought... I thought they might leave you alone a little more."
Robin's knees nearly buckle at the weight of her love for Nancy at this moment. She reaches across the small distance between them and tugs the other girl into a tight hug, smiling as she feels Nancy relax a bit at the contact.
"You, Nancy Wheeler," she says, muffled into her friend's updo, "are a marvel."
R.E.M continue to groan out their verses and Robin almost feels like she can't think straight, can't process what Nancy has just done for her in the way she really wants to. But she manages to pull one coherent thought (besides her appreciation and love for the other girl) out and backs up to look at Nancy seriously.
"But, uh... Nance... they're-- they're gonna think you're a lesbian. And I really do appreciate it, I promise I do, but I don't want you to ruin your reputation and everything for me. Those girls are going to spread that around like wildfire, and I just don't want you to feel like you have to deal with all that for-- just for me, I guess."
"Robin, with all the love in my heart: what reputation do I possibly have left to ruin? I know I used to be the kind of girl they all respected, to some degree, but, uh... it's been a really long time since any of them thought I was anything but a slut, a heartbreaker, or a crazy bitch."
Robin frowns in response, considering the thought. "I mean, that's bullshit, you know that, right? You're a wonderful woman and you're ten times better than anyone who says that shit about you."
Nancy smiles softly. "Thank you. And you better be thinking the same thing about yourself, Miss Buckley," she replies, and Robin scoffs. "I mean it!" Nancy adds, poking a determined finger at Robin's chest.
"I know you do."
"Well, good. Can I convince you to get a little drunk with me, now that I've made you dance with me? Those are the two requirements for your five-year reunion, I'm pretty sure."
Robin feels the remnants of the lingering despair she'd felt since she entered the building lifting as Nancy smiles at her, and she nods emphatically, grinning at the other girl as they slip from the dance floor.
Nancy orders some kind of drink with rum in it that Robin is honestly impressed by as it slides across the bar, and she grabs a beer, which would inevitably make Steve proud. Nancy wrinkles her nose as the bartender passes Robin her drink and she can only chuckle in response.
"You don't have to drink it, Wheeler," she says, taking a long pull, "but don't knock it."
Nancy gives her a considering look and then reaches out a grabby hand for the bottle. "C'mon," she says, a determined set to her jaw, "let me see how magical your disgusting bog water is."
Robin relents and hands it off, watching in some sort of awe as Nancy takes a sip, her lips wrapping delicately around the neck. She feels herself blushing, but she can't look away. "Christ," she mutters, hoping Nancy doesn't hear, but the other girl's eyes flit immediately to her, staying trained on Robin as she lets the bottle slip from her mouth with a satisfying pop. She definitely heard Robin. Fuck. As Nancy hands her back the beer, Robin takes it warily, trying to read what Nancy is thinking. It feels like a herculean task.
"Did I say how lovely you look in this suit, Robin?" Nancy asks, tilting her head in a way that is both incredibly cunning and unavoidably adorable. Robin takes a sip of her beer to try and gather some of her wits about her.
"I seem to remember it being the reason we came, actually," Robin replies, teasing, "you just had to show me off."
It earns her a grin, bright and blinding, and she feels herself smiling back at Nancy without even thinking.
"I absolutely did, yeah." Nancy begins to move them away from the bar, back toward their table, which has considerably thinned out since they last left. Only a few stragglers remain, and as Robin and Nancy head closer, they seem to find somewhere better to go too. Probably avoiding the queers, Robin thinks cynically, laughing to herself. It leaves only the two of them at the table, their drinks in hand and Nancy scooting one of the chairs closer to Robin so she can talk to her in a low voice.
Now, sitting there, surrounded by people but feeling utterly alone with Nancy, Robin gets her feet back under her. This feels like any other weeknight, pressed close to Nancy on a couch or in a diner booth or in the passenger seat of her car on the way home, joking about their shitty jobs and sharing the weirdest thing their parents have done recently. Nancy is just finishing telling Robin a story about how her mom called her the other day at eight o'clock at night, keeping Nancy on the phone for upwards of an hour while she ranted about something the neighbors were doing. Robin's head feels light and her smile feels permanent. She's still laughing at Nancy's impression of Karen Wheeler when Nancy leans closer, puts her hand on Robin's knee. It's not especially intimate, but it still makes Robin woozy, as most touches from Nancy happen to. Then, the other girl manages to spin Robin's brain even further out of wack.
"D'you know something, Robin?" Nancy asks, and her eyes are carefully avoiding Robin's face. "I lied a little, when I told you why I did what I did tonight."
Robin hums a confused note, tilting her head even though she knows Nancy can't see. She's afraid to speak actual words and interrupt Nancy's confession, whatever it may be.
"I... I do hate the way they talk about you, it's true, and it's always bugged me. But I think the idea of seeing it happen tonight made me so much angrier? Because now I know you so well-- I look at you and I think how could anyone hate her, how could you not look at her and be in awe, you know?"
And Robin does know, god, she knows exactly what Nancy means, because it's exactly the fucking thing she thinks every time someone says some rotten little comment about Nancy. But that's because she-- holy shit.
"Nancy," she says, proud of keeping her voice even, and she makes herself wait until the other girl finally looks up at her. This close, she can see the little flecks of green and gold in Nancy's blue eyes, can practically feel her breath on her face. It fucking terrifies her. Robin takes a deep, shivering breath, and closes the distance between them, finally capturing Nancy's bottom lip between her teeth the way she's been aching to all night. And Nancy is kissing her back, that hand that was sitting on her knee sneaking its way to Robin's thigh, where Nancy's fingers hold on with a death grip, like she's afraid Robin will slip away. When she finally has to breathe, Robin pulls back, leaning her forehead against Nancy's.
"I think I get why else you did it, Nance," she says, smiling, and Nancy grins back at her.
"Yeah," she says, chest heaving, "I think you do."