Work Text:
Robin couldn't help but to think this was a stupid idea.
A really stupid idea.
She tightened her grip on her backpack straps, her breath sending a cloud of thick fog into the creeping darkness as she sighed.
What if Nancy was busy? Or didn't want to see her? What if she had been making up an excuse to end her usually hours-long call with Robin a little early? What if, now, she's gonna be pissed off to see Robin on her doorstep, backpack laden with groceries she didn't ask for, offering to take care of her when she didn't even need to be taken care of?
But Nancy had sounded so pitiful, her normally soft voice cracking around the edges, raspy and gruff after she leaned away from the receiver for the tenth time to try and hide the hacking cough that she 'couldn't seem to shake'. And every sniffle, every sad tilt of her voice as she described the pitiful ways she was attempting to care for herself… They gnawed at Robin's soul until it seemed the only respectable option was to drag her motorcycle out of public parking and drive the two hours to Boston.
It's just Nancy… Robin tried to convince herself. What's the worst she could do?
She swallowed.
And she knocked.
It took a while, long enough that Robin worried that Nancy really had been fabricating a lie to get off the phone a little early. But, eventually, she heard the twinkle and slide of a metal chain lock, and the door, finally, swung open.
If Nancy had sounded pitiful, she looked near death. Her face was normally pale, but in the dull evening light, she looked nearly ashen… except for her nose, of course, which was almost blood-red with irritation. Her blue, bloodshot eyes widened, her face dropping from pale confusion into a mixture of horror and wonder.
"Surprise?" Robin smiled, or grimaced. The girl in front of her swallowed. A momentous task, it seemed.
"I…" Nancy's eyes looked watery, and Robin wasn't really sure if it was from her illness or from the gesture. She chose to believe it was from the gesture. Nancy continued, "You came all the way down here?"
"Well, yes, it's just… You sounded so bad, and I hate to be sick when I'm all on my own, so I figured, maybe, you were the same way… And even if not, I felt like I couldn't just take that risk without knowing for sure, y'know? And I really wasn't doing anything, so it's not like this is a bother. Unless it's a bother for you, which I totally understand, and I'll turn around right now if you want me to, no worries at all, but— Wait, is that my sweatshirt?"
Nancy's face had started to melt into some sort of soft smile around the start of Robin's awful, anxious ramble, but at those last five words, she snapped back to reality, her eyes widening almost imperceptibly. Her fingers curled and clutched the ends of her sleeves , as if afraid Robin was going to tear the sweatshirt right off her.
"No…" Nancy said, lifting her chin defiantly, "Of course not."
Robin blinked. Tightened her grip on her backpack straps. Slowly, she said, "Nancy… It says Hawkins High Marching Band. There's a ketchup stain on the shoulder from when Steve thought it would be funny to throw his last bite of a hot dog at my face."
Nancy tilted her head, her analytical stare only broken by a violent cough right into the puke-green elbow of Robin's sweatshirt. She straightened up, her lips twisting, "Are you going to come in? Or are you going to continue arguing that this sweatshirt I've had since ninth grade is actually yours?"
Robin hesitated for a moment, eyes roaming Nancy's face for any sign that she was lying. Then she shivered as a chill wind bit at her ears. She could resolve this later, she decided, when Nancy didn't have the option of slamming the door and leaving her out in the cold. Robin rushed through the open door into the welcome warmth of Nancy's apartment.
Nancy's apartment was nice, a lot nicer than what Robin could afford, though that wasn't really saying much. The front door spilled into her living room, the small room aglow with the light of a small TV and a couple of lamps positioned on both the nearby kitchen counter and the side table beside a moderately patchy leather couch. The hallway was dark, but Robin knew from when she had helped Nancy move in that there was a bedroom door at the end, where she and Nancy had collapsed and fallen asleep on the floor after unpacking everything but her bed linens.
Some books were strewn around, some open and some bookmarked, on pretty much every available surface, and Robin had the passing thought that if, for some reason, she and Nancy ever ended up living together, they would be drowned in literature. The thought warmed her a lot more than it probably should've.
Robin slung off her backpack, cradling it to her chest a moment, and Nancy coughed again. Hard. The momentum of it pushed her through the entryway, the front door slamming with a final gust of wind that sent a violent shiver through the girl.
"I'm sorry," Nancy shook her head, waving her hand like she was batting the germs away from Robin, "I am… so gross today."
"You're not gross," Robin assured her, then paused. "Um… Is it all right if I set some groceries in the kitchen?" She cursed herself internally. It was Nancy… Why was she being so formal?
Nancy's eyebrows knitted together, but she nodded, following Robin's quick shuffle to the kitchen, "Can I ask why you went grocery shopping before coming to visit? I promise I have food." She cleared her throat, swiping a box of tissues off the coffee table. She blew her nose, her face bright red. She even blew her nose politely and gracefully. Nothing about Nancy Wheeler was fair.
"I know…" Robin trailed off, throwing her backpack on Nancy's remarkably clean counter. Like, seriously, does she clean even when she's sick? That damn counter was shining. She began unpacking the bags she had stuffed in her backpack, "But… When I was little, my mom used to make this soup… It's— Well— It's kinda just chicken noodle soup— But I swear to god it will have you feeling better in hours!"
"You're going to cook for me?" Nancy leaned on the length of the counter that separated the living room from the kitchen, her smile as soft and warm as her blue eyes.
Robin felt her cheeks flush, dropping her backpack by the side of the counter. She cleared her throat, "Well… That was the plan… Yes…"
"How chivalrous…" Nancy's voice was quiet, almost not there. She bit her lip, and… Maybe it was just the slight gruffness of her voice, but Robin almost felt like…
She pushed the thought out of her mind.
"How much cough syrup have you taken…?" Robin asked instead, and Nancy smiled.
"Probably not enough…" She admitted, shrugging one of her shoulders. Robin watched as her— Nancy's— Hm… The sweatshirt slipped a bit, exposing the pale skin stretched over Nancy's collarbone. Robin averted her eyes quickly, placing the last bag onto the counter and scooting a veryexpensive-looking bottle out of her work area before she could knock it over.
"Well, I'm pretty sure you're not meant to take it with whiskey." Robin nodded her head to the crystal decanter. Nancy rolled her eyes.
"I hadn't had any. Yet. Make your soup, Buckley. If it heals me, I won't try my own remedies. I promise."
Robin laughed. She had known Nancy wasn't drunk. She knew her well enough, knew how she acted when she was drunk, to be able to easily figure that out. But the fact that she had at least tried to be…
It was reason enough to believe that Robin had been right all along.
That Nancy needed her.
"Go lie down, Nance…" Robin said before Nancy could offer to help, turning away when she saw her friend's eyebrows furrow with stubbornness, "Go on. It won't taste good if you're here coughing in it."
Robin heard Nancy scoff, which sent her into another coughing fit, before she pushed off the counter, retreating to the living room where, it seemed, The Princess Bride was playing on the tiny TV, the audio muted. Robin pulled the carrots and celery out of one of her paper bags, biting her lip.
"I didn't know you owned a copy of that… You said you'd never seen it before."
Nancy had settled onto the couch, and Robin could barely see her curly hair as she leaned against the armrest, "There are video rental places in Boston, y'know, not just Hawkins."
Robin felt herself smile, grabbing a big pot out of the cabinet, "I'm aware. I just mean… We watched this movie, what, three months ago? Before my semester started?"
"Something like that…" Nancy coughed again, then sniffled, and Robin watched the blanket spread on the back of the couch get pulled down. Her heart warmed as she watched Nancy squirm to wrap herself in the soft pink blanket.
The soup was simple. Which was probably the exact reason her mother had chosen it all those years ago, considering she was dealing with a whiny, sick child. So, thankfully, it wouldn't take very long to make. While Robin stirred the steaming broth, bouillon cubes dissolving and turning the air fragrant, she glanced back at Nancy.
The girl was still lying on the couch, curls scrunched on the armrest, the pink blanket wrapped all the way up her neck.
"Where did you even get sick?" Robin asked, getting to work chopping the vegetables.
She saw Nancy's head lift up, concerned and sleepy eyes peering over the back of the couch, "Please don't chop off a finger."
Robin rolled her eyes, giving Nancy a look that she hoped said I'm twenty years old. We literally went to hell together. I'll be fine.
Nancy lowered her head again, disappearing behind the couch, "Pretty sure I got it from Mike. He visited last week."
"Oh." Robin's carrot chunks were a little lopsided, some itty bitty, and some way too big, but she scooted them to the end of the cutting board anyway, getting to work on chopping the celery. "Will didn't mention that Mike was sick."
"He wasn't." Nancy sniffed, then grabbed another tissue, "I think he's a carrier."
Robin laughed as Nancy blew her nose again, Dumping the vegetables into the steaming broth. When she was done, Nancy’s blue eyes just barely popped up over the top of the couch, a little spark of lightness glittering in them, her nose still bright red.
The noodles and now the vegetables were cooking, which just left one thing…
"I'm gonna have to ask you to turn around." Robin gestured to where Nancy had laid her arm on the back of her couch, cheek smushed against the green sleeve of her sweatshirt, blue eyes sleepily blinking as she watched her friend cook. When she saw Robin staring at the sweatshirt again, she pulled her arm down, pulling the pink blanket up around her shoulders without a hint of subtlety.
Nancy narrowed her eyes, "Why?"
Robin's hand curled around a can that she had scooted to the side, hidden by her backpack. She shrugged, thoroughly enjoying it when Nancy raised an eyebrow at her, "No reason."
"Are you drugging me?" Nancy asked slowly, then her face pinched together a bit before she sneezed into her sleeve. Robin's sleeve. Whatever.
"No, but from the sounds of it, you probably need to be."
Nancy rolled her eyes but resolutely did not turn around again, instead pushing even further up onto the couch so she could crane her head at what Robin was hiding on the counter. Robin, knowing Nancy too well to think that she'd give it up, slid the can out of its hiding place.
She laughed as Nancy's nose scrunched, eyes widening.
"Is that a can of chicken?" Nancy asked, her voice cracking with her blatant disgust.
"Yes, ma'am, it is." Robin cracked the can open, "I told you to turn away."
"You really are trying to kill me."
Robin scoffed, dumping the juice from the can. She wouldn't lie, it looked disgusting. But, surprisingly, it was edible. And her mother had always shredded it so finely into the soup that it was barely noticeable. And maybe it was just nostalgia, but the soup really didn't taste the same without it.
"Pardon me, next time I'll put an icebox in my backpack and drop by a butcher shop before I come play nurse, Your Highness. At least I got fresh veggies."
Though Robin was turned away, she could still see out of the corner of her eye how Nancy fought off a little smile, disappearing behind the back of the couch again with another series of coughs. She took it as a victory.
A few minutes later, as the soup simmered on the stove, Robin walked back around the counter and leaned the bases of her palms against the back of the couch. Nancy was still lying there, curled up in her soft pink blanket, looking like the definition of pitiful with her pale skin and tired eyes. When she saw her, she squirmed into a half-sitting position, to which Robin promptly leaned forward and pushed her back down until her shoulders hit the armrest again. Her watery blue eyes blinked up at Robin, mouth twisted in a grimace. When Robin pressed the back of her hand into her forehead, her eyes fluttered. She really must be feeling awful because, usually, Nancy was not nearly this compliant.
"You're burning up," Robin said, forcing herself to pull her hand away and trying not to think about how much she was enjoying taking care of Nancy like this. "You said you took medicine?"
"I did."
"When?"
Nancy's mouth snapped shut, her jaw tightening in that way it did when she knew she was backed into a corner. After a moment of hesitation, she responded, "Today."
Robin raised her eyebrows with a smile, watching as Nancy huffed, refusing to meet her eyes.
"…This morning."
"Ah," Robin forced back a laugh, "Nance. It's six p.m."
"I'm aware. It didn't help."
"Oh my god, you have got to be the most impatient person I know, Nancy. You do know you have to take more than one dose?"
"I know that! I just… don't think I need it," She explained, punctuated perfectly by a painful-sounding cough. She sniffed, avoiding Robin's accusing eyes as she reached behind herself for another tissue.
"Forgive me, I forgot how tough and strong and macho you are. I'm sure the virus particles quivered in fear when they realized they had dared to infect Nancy Wheeler." The air had become fragrant from the soup, so Robin whirled around to pull a bowl and spoon from the dishrack. "You kinda have a masochistic streak, Wheeler, do you realize that?"
"I'm gonna pretend I didn't hear any of that," Nancy grumbled, muffled by her tissue.
Robin finally brought the soup over, setting a throw pillow on Nancy's legs to protect her from the hot bowl. As she leaned forward to place it on Nancy's lap, something in the back of her subconscious piped up. Something smelled… familiar. But she couldn't place it in the short time that it took to get Nancy settled, so she tried her best to push it from her mind as she sank into the cushion next to her friend, setting her elbow on the back of the couch.
"You didn't get yourself any," Nancy said it more like it was a statement than a question, her eyebrows furrowing at Robin's empty hands.
"I ate before I left my dorm," Robin explained, feeling her cheeks heat up slightly under Nancy's gaze, "I just wanted to make you something nice."
Nancy looked like she didn't know what to say for a moment, staring into the bowl of soup in her lap like it might tell her what to say. But then she pressed her lips together, her eyes softening as she looked back up at Robin. It was hard to keep her heart from melting right between her ribs when Nancy responded, "Thank you… That's really sweet…"
Robin's throat felt tight, and she was sure her face was bright red, but she managed to force herself to wave off the comment, "Don't thank me until you've tried it. It could be disgusting."
Nancy laughed softly, taking the hint and tucking into her soup dilligently, taking the tiniest little sip off of her spoon. All at once, she closed her eyes and groaned.
"Oh my god, Robin, how did you make something like this with canned chicken?" She exclaimed, getting a bigger spoonful.
Robin dug her fingers into her knees, her heart flopping restlessly in her chest. She was sure that if her heart felt any lighter, she would float away. She managed to force herself to respond, her voice stammering, "Glad you like it, Nance…"
Nancy was silent as she took another few bites, then patted her lips with a clean tissue, looking back over at Robin sheepishly, "Is it bad that I think this is the first meal I've had in months that didn't come out of the freezer or a takeout container?"
Robin rolled her eyes, "Well, I guess we know how you got sick so easily," She said, even though she knew good and damn well she had no room to talk. Though, to be fair, she didn't have a kitchen.
"I tried to make spaghetti the other day…" Nancy trailed off, eyes squinting as she took another bite of soup.
"And?"
"And… Now I have one less pot to wash."
Robin laughed, completely missing the proud little smile that flickered on Nancy's face behind her next spoonful of soup. She shook her head, biting her grin down as much as she could, "Well, I guess it's a good thing you have me, then."
There was something unreadable behind Nancy's eyes. There was a softness to them even as they became distant. Not melancholy, exactly, but something just adjacent to it.
"Yeah," Nancy agreed before Robin could spiral. Then she smiled, "Better watch out. I might just keep you." And, without another word, she turned to look back at the TV, calmly finishing the rest of her soup.
Something shuddered in Robin, giddiness and nerves swirling in a nauseating dance deep within her stomach, warmth rushing over her entire body. She knew that if she let go of her knees, her hands would be trembling.
Stop it… She commanded herself, Don't let it get to your head. She didn't mean it like that. You know she didn't mean it like that.
"I… Um…" Robin's voice shook, "I'll, uh, go get you some medicine…"
With that, she pushed herself up off the couch, trying her best to ignore how Nancy didn't even spare her a second glance.
Her heart was pounding when she pushed into Nancy's bathroom, so she took a moment to collect herself.
She had tried. She had tried so hard to be normal around Nancy. To act like every second she spent around her didn't feel volatile, dangerous. Everyone else was so far away and they needed each other, she knew that all too well. And these feelings? They threatened to upset the delicate balance that she and Nancy had precariously built. To ruin the quiet ecosystem that she depended on so greatly.
She breathed slowly, through her nose and out her mouth, until her heart finally relaxed into a normal rhythm. Until she was sure she could look up at the mirror and not find her face blood-red, her desperate desire written all over her face.
Robin opened her eyes, letting that warm feeling roll right off her shoulders, and opened the medicine cabinet.
Her heart stopped.
She heard a rustling from the livingroom, then Nancy's soft footsteps rushed around the corner, skidding to a stop in the hallway outside the bathroom.
"Robin, don't look in the—"
But the bottle was already in Robin's hand.
"Nancy…" Robin said, turning the bottle in her hand and watching as the last quarter inch or so of amber liquid sloshed around the slim, square, familiar bottle.
Familiar only because it had sat on Robin's dresser for months. Familiar because Robin had been the one to pick it out in the drugstore, laughing with Steve as they sprayed testers on each other. Familiar because, when her last bottle had mysteriously gone missing, it had taken Robin forever to find another store that carried it.
"I can explain…"
Robin flipped it over in her palm. Written on the front was the perfume's name, Charlie Blue, but also, just below the label…
R.B.
Written in black sharpie because, when she first started living in the dorm, her mother had her terrified that her roommate would start swiping her stuff if she didn't put her name on everything.
Well. Apparently it wasn't her roommate that she should've been worried about.
"You… Stole my perfume." Robin shook her head.
Nancy's face was pale, staring at the bottle in Robin's hand like it had betrayed her, "I… I can explain… You didn't… You didn't have much left and—"
"—You stole my perfume…" Robin paused for a moment, thinking, "And you stole my sweatshirt…"
Nancy's hands grasped at the bottom of the sweatshirt, her jaw tight, but she didn't say anything. She just stood there like a cornered animal, wide eyes blinking up at Robin.
Robin was so confused, staring at that bottle like it held the key to the answer that was hanging right on the tip of her tongue. Awkwardly, she forced herself to laugh, "Nancy… This bottle was, like, fifteen dollars. If you wanted some—"
"It's not—" Nancy pressed her fingers to her eyes, leaning against the hallway wall, "Okay, just… I know what this looks like and I'm not, like, a kleptomaniac or something, I promise…"
Robin looked between the perfume bottle and her sweatshirt again, raising an eyebrow in disbelief. Nancy's face flushed.
"It's just…" Her hands balled up in the fabric of the sweatshirt again, shutting her eyes tight, "You're so far away…"
Robin blinked, completely caught off guard, but Nancy wasn't done.
"And I can be strong. I can. But there's nights when…" Nancy dropped the sweatshirt, instead pressing her palms to her face, "There's nights when all I want is for you to be here. With me. You make me feel…" Nancy shook her head, her voice trembling, "Safe. You make me feel safe, and secure, and like nothing matters except that I'm in the same room as you. You make me feel better, just by being there. And so I've been…" She wrapped her arms around her waist, and Robin's heart nearly broke in half at the sight of her lip trembling, her eyes welling with tears, "When I visit… I've been taking a piece of you home with me. So I can have you here, too. I just felt so bad today… and I wasn't expecting you to be here…"
Robin was shocked into silence, her hand still clutched around the little bottle of cheap perfume. But when Nancy looked up at her, quiet and laid bare, her composure crumbled almost immediately. At the quiet click of the perfume bottle hitting the porcelain sink, Nancy seemed to rush to say one last thing, her voice sullen.
"If you don't feel the same, I get it. It's fine. And I'm sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable—"
"Nancy," Robin interrupted, her voice wavering with the emotion that was coursing through her, "That was the sweetest fucking thing anyone's ever said to me."
Nancy clapped her hands onto her face again, but this time it was to hide her smile, and Robin couldn't help but to laugh.
"And for the record…" She reached forward, fingers wrapping around Nancy's slim wrists, fingertips grazing the soft skin underneath the sleeves of her sweatshirt. Slowly, she pulled Nancy's hands away from her face, her entire body shivering at the torn-apart look that graced Nancy's pretty face, "I'd give you everything I have, if you asked. No thievery required."
Nancy ducked her head, forehead hitting Robin's shoulder with a sigh, and Robin encased her in her grasp. Standing there, arms wrapped around Nancy Wheeler in the dim light of her hallway, she was pretty sure she'd never been more giddy in her entire life. She buried her face in Nancy's hair, unable to stop a soft laugh from escaping when she smelled the unmistakable fruity, woodsy smell of her own perfume on the other girl.
"There is one thing I want to ask for…" Nancy said into her shoulder, her gravelly voice a little hesitant, "But… I really don't want to get you sick."
"Nancy," Robin breathed, pulling back a little so she could look into her eyes. So she could see how genuine Robin was when she said, "I cannot stress this enough. I don't give a damn."
Nancy grinned, her laugh light and ecstatic even as her voice cracked. She laced her hands behind Robin's neck and, with one fluid movement, pulled her closer until their lips finally met.
Nancy's lips were a little chapped, warmer than they probably would've been if she wasn't running a fever. But, god, standing there with her body aligned against Nancy Wheeler's, their noses pressing together in the short seconds they pulled apart for a breath, Robin was damn sure she couldn't have been happier.
And a few days later, curled up in Nancy's old Emerson sweatshirt (willfully given) and hacking up a lung on the phone as her girlfriend took her own turn to fuss over her, she held absolutely zero regrets.